Blind Date A Book 2020 – Book #14
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Chapter 1
Death… when it darkens a door, those inside are never prepared to face the end. At those times, when someone is taken for no other reason than to quench another’s hunger, it becomes a sordid event to be feared. And when the Devil is involved, it is indeed, a Death Most Wicked.
***
Right out of high school, Davey Lewis had snagged himself a cushy job working night guard duty at The Chateau gated community. He thought it was cushy at that time. It turned out he got snookered. It was nothing but a rent-a-cop job. It was too late now, but he figured he should’ve gone for the mall cop gig instead. At least with that job he would have gotten free lunch and discounts at The Gap.
But since Davey was stuck with the night guard job until he paid off a few bills, he took his father’s advice and worked hard so that maybe he’d get a raise. He took pride in his job for a while, but eventually, Davey had grown to hate the rich snobs who lived there. He protected their homes, but did they care? No. Minimum wage and he couldn’t even get a smile of appreciation from most of those stuffed shirts.
At The Chateau, Davey had one responsibility ─ keep the riffraff of the outside world away from the sleeping millionaires. It was not the worst job to have but after midnight, time dragged. Truth be told, he was glad that most of those bastards were asleep by nine p.m. because that allowed Davey a few tasty perks. The tastiest was the horny Mrs. Cooper in the first cul-de-sac.
Every Thursday night at eleven sharp she’d call, begging Davey to check out a suspicious knocking she heard near her home. He’d investigate, looking for a burglar who didn’t exist. Ten minutes in, he’d end up in the bushes under her bedroom window, and she’d flash her lady parts until he crawled through the window and banged the bitch. But even that got boring, and he was beginning to not be able to stand the way she screamed when she got off. He didn’t think it was much of a perk anymore. Now he was back to feeling like he couldn’t wait for the end of his shift.
Like tonight, standing outside his post, Davy gazed up at the sky and thought, Holy Moly, look at that rainstorm coming. Damn, I wish I was anywhere but here. Not only was the sky all crapped up but the acrid odor of an impending storm in the air was making his nostrils itch.
He hated when it rained. The little gatehouse became humid during even the lightest of rains. Shoot, the paperwork got so wet that the ink smeared. He wanted to call headquarters and say he was sick and needed to go home, but he already knew what they’d say. He was no dummy to corporate rules, nope, he knew they would just tell him to suck it up and wait for his relief. So that was exactly what he was going to do.
As he sat in the gatehouse, twiddling his thumbs, knowing he’d be miserable in a couple of hours, he thought about something a man who came by to visit that Patrick dude had mentioned. A few months back, the guy had mentioned he had a much better job for him. The man had bragged he could get Davey all the discounts he wanted.
Yeah, tomorrow I’m gonna check into that offer. This job is for suckers.
But for this shift, he’d have to wait until six a.m. when he could hand the mess over to the day guard and go home to a nice warm bed. In the meantime, he had to find something to keep himself awake. He guessed it was time to fire up his Gameboy and snatch himself some fun until his relief arrived.
Lewis was engaged in a heated battle on his Gameboy when a flaming red Ferrari roared up to his station at the gate. He immediately recognized it as belonging to Buzz King, a resident. Deep in his game, he didn’t bother giving the driver a glance of acknowledgment.
It’s only that asshole Buzz King, he thought. The jerk will just shoot me one of his condescending snooty looks. I ain’t losing my game over him.
***
Buzz King, former Rookie of the Year and current resident of The Chateau, glanced expectantly at the side of the guard’s face. He mumbled a few choice words under his breath as the guard buzzed him in without checking his credentials.
Damn lazy prick, Buzz thought.
“It’s after midnight, mister. You can kiss this gig goodbye once I chew your boss a new one tomorrow,” Buzz snarled as he rocketed through the gate, not waiting for, or even wanting a response. He was quite happy to leave Davey in the dust.
His anger was forgotten by the first turn in the road. He had a quick temper but hated to waste it on a nobody like that guard.
Before long, his sprawling mansion came into view. Like most former athletes, his home represented many things to him. It was a visual throwback to the days when they called Buzz the golden boy of football. Of course, that was back when he had been anointed Rookie of the Year by Sports Illustrated magazine, and his team owner had given him a hefty bonus after the announcement.
Yeah, I was the guy men envied, and women chased after.
Back in those days he had a rocket arm and could run like no other quarterback in the league. He even made it to the Super Bowl his first season, but like the man said on ESPN recently when Buzz’s name came up during his morning show, those days were long gone. Two concussions and he was done. No team wanted an injury-prone quarterback. All he had now, were memories and a few trinkets in addition to the house.
And thank God he still had it. At the time, he hadn’t realized that using that money to buy the estate would end up being so important. Fool that he was at the time, Buzz had looked at the mansion as a potential playpen for the models he planned on snagging instead of a wise investment. Now, it was his biggest asset.
As he rolled up his street, Buzz again cursed the money he had squandered on gambling over the years. He had picked up the habit when he was playing ball. He had to admit that the worst part of his gambling was that he loved betting on himself, mostly because he was a sure bet at the time. It was a secret that only he and a favored bookie knew about. He loved winning on the field and in his bank account. He felt he was a god who could do no wrong.
But after his forced retirement, he no longer had sure bets. Once he was no longer playing, gambling became a love/hate thing for him. It wasn’t long before he began to joke that it was like meth, try it once just for fun, and you’re hooked. Everything revolved around gambling now. He found himself betting on everything, even when his gut said no. It had become a curse that was so exhilarating that he couldn’t live without it.
Buzz knew… just knew… a single bet could put him on easy street, and his gut told him that bet was right around the corner. His bones agreed. Or did they? He was beginning not to trust himself anymore and feared he’d never get his life out of the crapper. One wrong wager and he’d have to auction off the house. And once the house was gone? Well, he wouldn’t be living in a box. Not right away, anyway, but his savings was nil so he’d be forced to sell his Super Bowl rings. He didn’t want to think about what would have to happen after that.
There was one obstacle standing in the way of him and his buddy, Caleb, pulling off the biggest deal of their lives… Mr. Ivanovitch and his demands. If they weren’t able to shake the old guy off their backs, they were both screwed no matter what they did. Buzz hoped that Caleb had come up with a good excuse for Mr. Ivanovitch that would buy them some more time, but he hadn’t heard from Caleb for a few days. He had already decided that if he didn’t hear from him by tomorrow at the latest, he’d have to call Caleb’s old lady and see if she could get a message to him. He couldn’t wait much longer than that because he knew that Royce dude didn’t mess around and he had already warned them once.
As Buzz rounded the bend, he glanced at the silhouette of his house. He didn’t see signs of any intruders tonight. However, Caleb had warned him many times that Mr. Ivanovitch might decide to send someone after him just to prove he was the one in control over them. Since Buzz wasn’t stupid, he knew that vigilance was critical to his survival.
Satisfied he had no unexpected guests, Buzz drove up the driveway and into the garage. Fatigue hit him as he parked the car. He decided to squeeze a soak in his hot tub in before crawling into bed. Standing over a craps table for eight hours was grueling. Having lost his mojo was even more tiring.
***
After Buzz parked in the garage, he reset the alarm system there, entered the mansion, and reset the second one. He figured a man couldn’t have enough security when he had dangerous characters in his world.
Walking into the kitchen, he opened the fridge to grab a chilled beer. As Buzz popped the cap on the beer, the howling wind outside rattled the sliding glass door. He walked over and checked the lock. He was about to turn back when a smudge of black dirt on the tiles caught his eye. He bent to touch it. The soil felt fresh, it was in the shape of a footprint. He looked up and saw there were more dirty footprints and they led across the floor.
Goddamn Patrick. How many times have I told him not to drag shit into the house? Damn slob. Buzz griped to himself.
It was a good thing his roommate had left for a two-week vacation before he got home or he’d have to beat the little twerp’s ass. Furious, Buzz made a mental note to jack Patrick up when he got back in town. Grabbing a broom, he swept the dirt into the dustpan, muttering a stream of obscenities under his breath.
***
Later on…
With the light turned low, Buzz slid into the swirling waters of the hot tub. He leaned back with his head resting on a folded towel wedged against one edge. Closing his eyes, he let the jet streams soothe his aches and pains. It wasn’t long before he dozed off.
A scraping noise, like a chair being dragged, jerked Buzz awake. He sat up and waited. No more noise, no one jumped out. It must have been a dream, he thought.
Buzz toyed with the idea of grabbing another beer and settling back in the hot tub to continue his soak. And he would have, but it occurred to him that he better be honest with himself for once. His gut was telling him that something was about to go down.
He began to think again about Caleb and his disappearance. Either Caleb had been able to finagle a deal with Mr. Ivanovitch and had gone sailing with him to seal the deal, or Caleb was dead, and one of Mr. Ivanovitch’s goons would be coming soon to hunt him down. If the second thing happened, well, he’d have to kill himself because he sure as hell wasn’t going to let them put any of that red shit on him. Either way, he needed to be ready with a clear head and steady hands, so he better get his ass moving.
No longer interested in soaking, Buzz climbed out of the tub and dried himself. As he did, he noticed the taste of stale beer on his tongue. Another pet peeve of his, the level of irritation was right up there with crap left on his kitchen floor. Now he’d have to brush his teeth before curling up between the sheets.
Buzz padded his way into his master bathroom. As he flipped the light switch, he knew something wasn’t right.
But what?
He scanned the room. There was a slight smudge of mud on the floor in front of the vanity. Opening the medicine cabinet, he thought, the bastard has been snooping again.
But for what? His friends and business associates all knew he gave up the pills a long time ago, and he kept what little money he had in his safe. The only jewelry he owned, he wore, except for his Super Bowl ring which he kept in a safe deposit box at the bank.
Okay, that’s it, he decided. First thing in the morning, I’m calling around and getting myself a new roommate. I’ll find a chick who cooks. Yeah, one with a sweet tight ass, too.
Buzz picked up his toothbrush and toothpaste. While he squirted toothpaste on the brush, he scrutinized his face in the mirror.
Jesus, another a wrinkle? Christ, both eyes have bags under them. I better get Stephanie to squeeze me in. She’ll fix me up with a couple pricks of Botox.
He put the toothbrush in his mouth. The toothpaste had a strange, offensive texture to it. With the brush tucked in his cheek, Buzz picked up the toothpaste tube. Wait a minute. This shit is red, but the description says white paste. What the hell?
Buzz threw the toothbrush in the sink and spit into the porcelain bowl. He rummaged through the cabinet until he found a bottle of mouth disinfectant. Frantic, he screwed it open and gargled a mouthful. Swishing it around, he tried to get it into every crevice, but he still didn’t feel clean. He spit it out, took another swig and repeated.
Damn, Patrick. He’s trying to poison me. But why? Did one of those Russian guys from last month hire him? They were sure as hell pissed when they lost. But who wouldn’t be with a hundred Gs on the line?
And then he felt it… a twitching, squiggly sensation under his eyelid. Buzz leaned closer to the mirror to inspect the twitch. He could see the black hairs of a tiny black, squirming thing peeking out. He fumbled through the vanity drawers, grasping for anything that could grab hold of it. His fingers latched onto a pair of needle nose tweezers.
Jesus, let them do the job.
Buzz pried his eyelid open and jammed the needle nose tweezers around the thing’s tail. He yanked hard, sweat rolling down his forehead, blinding him. He wrenched and twisted until the thing released its pincers.
He held the tweezers up to the light to inspect it. The hideous mutation squirmed and snapped at him.
Buzz threw the monstrosity in the toilet and flushed, watching it swirl around the drain.
Then a weird sensation on his tongue grabbed his attention. He opened his mouth wide and tried to examine his teeth and tongue.
Oh shit, oh shit ─
Buzz felt a crawling tickle. Something was caught in the membranes of his throat. Jamming two fingers down his throat, he forced himself to vomit. He puked until his insides felt like they might come up through his chest.
Grabbing the edges of the vanity with both hands, Buzz tried his best to keep himself from spewing any more of himself into the sink.
But when he looked down, several of his teeth stared back at him from the sink basin.
What the ─?
The hair on the back of his neck stood up.
Was he being watched? His eyes jerked up to the mirror. Something in the shadows behind him caught his eye.
Is that Patrick behind me, cowering in the shadows?
It was too late for Buzz. His head exploded.
***
Blood, pus, and bone fragments embedded themselves into the mirror as the former Rookie of the Year’s body dropped to the Italian marble tiles.
Patrick hovered in the doorway. He watched as what remained of Buzz King dissolved into a bloody blob.
When it was over, he made a phone call.
“Sir, I took care of James. How soon will be my father be released? I will. Thank you, sir.”
Patrick walked to the sink and snapped a few pictures on his cell phone. When he finished, he turned to leave.
He didn’t make it far before he had to make a dash to the commode, barely getting there in time. Falling to his knees, he puked into the porcelain bowl.
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