Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 48018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
The light from the bare bulb catches the blade as it swings out on a short but potentially brutal arc. The blade is clean, quality steel. It hasn’t been used on anything besides flesh, I think. I am at a distance, but the pure shine on the thing makes me think there are no marks on it that would indicate baser uses.
VanDinn has clearly faced Bobby before, but I am getting the impression he’s not had to tangle with Angelo. Bobby must have done the initial abduction and beating, perhaps alone. He must have been the one who set up the tea party. I wonder if that was on Angelo’s orders, or if Bobby is becoming more creative in his sadism, developing in Angelo’s shadow.
“Take his pants down, Bobby,” Angelo says.
“Fine!” VanDinn shrieks the word, rocking back in his chair as if to try to escape, and relenting on something he must have previously stood very steadfastly against. “I will do what you asked me to do. It is going to bring ruin to us all, but I will do it.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Bobby snaps the cap off the top of the soda bottle. “I thought we were going to have a tea party!”
Tea party definitely doesn’t mean anything positive and sweet here. I have an awful feeling that each and every little plate on the table was intended to hold a treat, not from Angelo’s box of freshly baked cupcakes, but from VanDinn’s own body.
“If Mr VanDinn agrees to give us what we have requested, then I’m afraid we will have to have a different affair.” Angelo picks up one of the cupcakes and offers it to VanDinn, who is smart enough to know that refusing a softening offering from Vitali is a bad idea. He takes a bite, and I see a look of surprise on his face as he is treated to a truly delicious piece of baking. I can only imagine how it tastes after however long he has spent here, tied up, bloodied, in a mad, dark Wonderland.
“That is good,” VanDinn says. “That is very good.”
“The woman who makes these is a true artist,” Angelo agrees, taking one for himself.
I realize that now all I really have to report is that Angelo found a bound man and gave him a cupcake. This would not hold up in a court of law. Even attempting to repeat this story in front of a jury, especially under cross-examination by a talented lawyer, would make Angelo seem honestly kind of cool or at least eccentric and perhaps even kind. This man plays all the angles all the time. He is intelligent in ways I know I am yet to begin to appreciate.
Bobby utters a curse, puts the soda down on the table between Angelo and VanDinn, turns on his heel, and gets back into the driver’s seat of the car.
He seems to have forgotten I’m here, or maybe I’m just so completely irrelevant to him he doesn’t care.
“Shut the fucking rear door,” he snaps over his shoulder.
I suppose he hasn’t forgotten me. Or maybe the open door reminded him. Either way, I do as he asks and shut the door. That leaves me in a confined space with a very agitated and denied Bobby Vitali.
“I haven’t gotten to kill anyone in fucking months,” he curses. “VanDinn is scum. He deserves to fucking die. Fucking trafficking piece of shit.”
It is a very weird sensation to realize that I am fully on board with Bobby on this particular matter. There is nothing VanDinn will not transport. Nothing at all.
“And we didn’t get any cupcakes,” I add.
There’s a pause in which I am sure Bobby is going to tell me to shut the fuck up, but he shoots me a dark look in the rear-view mirror and slams the steering wheel with his palm.
“And we didn’t get any cupcakes,” he agrees.
I am certain he wants to wind down the passenger side window, yell to Angelo to get in, and get out of here, but he doesn’t dare talk to Angelo that way. The two of us are stuck in the car together, like a couple of puppies waiting with the AC on while their owner brunches with a friend.
“I’m hungry,” he declares.
I am also hungry, now he mentions it.
“We should go and get some burgers or something, swing by and pick Angelo up in a bit.”
I say it somewhat as a joke, but Bobby perks up. He does put the passenger window down and calls out to Angelo.
“Hey. Angelo. Kid and I are going to get some burgers. We’ll be back.”
“You are not,” Angelo says, with a faint and brief but very viewable expression of have you lost your mind, boy, on his face.
“We’re hungry! At least give us the rest of the cupcakes. Fuck.”