Concrete Jungle - Snake In The Grass

Where's she going? I sit and wonder. Man, does she ever smell good. The train shakes me, and I fall into the person next to me. I wonder if she would talk to me if I tried to talk to her? No. Probably not. Bitches like her never speak to me. I can't let her get Billy boy to talk. He knows better than to say anything, but what if? I wouldn't want to kill her. But I will if I have to. Same with the little distraction back at my place. She will be the shiny thing I wave at Detective Eastdale. Watch the right hand, not the left, Detective. Oh my fuck. Her perfume. It's mesmerizing. It throws me off track. Think Ducas. Think. How can I stop her? I still have quite a way until my stop. I'm on my way to the hospital to 'check-up' on Billy boy. I have to make sure that he is still complying with all that he should be.

***

This little fucker better keep his damn yap shut, or else. He hasn't spoken a word all these years. That better not change. This place is so easy to break into at night. The so-called security guard always goes out for a smoke around 10 pm after he does resident checks. He leaves a stick in the shipping door and goes around to the side; that's my cue to dash in. I have an orderly uniform and mask, so it's easy to blend in. Most people who work here don't work while they're here. They use their time to their advantage, not to the patient's benefit. They nap and chat, neglect and abuse. I stole the keys a long time ago, made copies and put them back. I can slip into Billy's life anytime I want. He knows it, too.

***

I have to make this look good. I can't look like a fool. Nylah just went into the store. I'm going to talk to her when she comes out. She doesn't know that I've been watching her. I watched her on "our" walk to the store. I was watching her even before she left her house.

"Hey, beautiful?" I ask.

"Can I help you?" she asks.

"I'm having a Hallowe'en party at my condo in a couple of weeks. You know the one across the park there, with the lit-up rooftop terrace? I'm pretty much inviting the whole neighbourhood. See that billboard over there? That's my party. Please tell me you'll come? You can bring anyone you like. The more, the merrier."

"Ummm... I don't normally make it a habit of going to random guys' parties that just come up to me on the street. As a matter of fact, I rarely speak to them either. Have a good day. I hope you have a wonderful party." she says while trying to step around me.

Not so fast there, little lady. You will be my guest.

"Come on! It's not like it's a private party or anything. I bought a fucking billboard, for Christ's sake. Everyone knows about it in the neighbourhood. It's going to be like a community party. It's not just me trying to get you alone. It's me trying to welcome you to the neighbourhood. I've seen you around recently but not much before that, so I figured you're new here. I'm Ducas." I say as I put my hand out in front of me. She still seems wary but shakes my hand. It's then I know she's going to be my guest.

***

I sit there and watch her. My hands shake—my heart races. The sheer fact she doesn't know I'm watching turns me on. It was exciting to "meet" her on the subway today. I sit in the dark. I can see the foggy haze of flickering lights from the rooftop patio above my unit. I'm in the penthouse, so the rooftop patio is right above me. I take a long, dirty drag of my cigarette. Every pull of it lights up my dark livingroom a reddish-orange tinge. Perfect for the moment. I can see my reflection on my window every time I take a drag. I take a longer one. I peer into my own eyes. What a gorgeous motherfucker I am. I refocus my gaze once again, back to her. She doesn't know it yet, but we're going to be friends. Good friends. I take another drag, and then I crush it in the ashtray. I need to keep her close.

My phone lights up from across the room, on the kitchen table. I stand up. I catch a glimpse of the name before I get to it. Tits and blonde hair illuminate on the screen before me. Mallory. Another good time. Not much else, though. I know what she wants. Drugs. That -- and dick. They all want drugs and dick. I hit answer and immediately pop a boner. I'd rather fuck her sister, though. At least Mystica has some brains in her head. I wonder what her brains are like to receive? She's too much of a challenge, though—too much work for right now.

"Hey, baby, what's up? Miss me already?" I say while grabbing my pecker.

"You know it, daddy," she says. I hear the desperation in her voice.

"You know where I'm at, baby doll. See you soon. Wear that little thing daddy likes, okay?"

"I will, daddy."

I hit the end call button. Ironically, in about twenty minutes, I'd be hittin' end again. I've hit it plenty. Nothing new. I like new, but it's good for now, I guess.

I pour myself a double shot of cognac and toss it back. I pull a small, clear baggie from my pocket and pour out some of the most delicate powder known to man. As white as my ass and twice as fine. I slice a few lines out for myself. One up one nostril and likewise for the other. No nostril jealousy on this face. I make my bitches jealous, not my nostrils. I turn on the shower and take off my khakis. The only thing I'm wearing. The steam rolls out of my bathroom door as I head for it. It's going to be a long night, indeed. I'll be your daddy bitch; keep your daddy issues to yourself, though.

I step out of the shower. I feel the fluffy mat beneath my feet. It tickles my toes. I head to my bedroom and swing open my closet door. I hear the muffled scream of my guest. The thumping of her tied up body can be felt on the floor. She was trying to speak. Probably something along the lines of, 'You don't have to do this. I won't tell anyone. Please let me go. Why are you doing this?' They always want to know why. Why? I can't be bothered with why. I have places to be. I drop my tie, and it lands on her forehead. I pick it up. I ignore her, and shut the closet door in her face and walk away.

These stupid, fucking pigs won't know what hit them. Everyone will get what's coming to them if they poke the bear. They need to let sleeping dogs lie. The world makes it so easy. Especially these days. All these victims are just waiting for me. They all sit there waiting for daddy, like baby ducks. Whores make it so easy for guys like me. You'll only find what I want you to find. You'll only see what I want you to see. I'll be ahead of you every step of the way.

I fall back into my expensive, plush, oak-cedar chair. I'm getting one of those headaches again. Thoughts of my past take me away.

***

"Bobby, come on. We're going to get caught!" yells Ducas.

I push my feet through the gravel and grass as fast as I can. I'm not looking back. I catch up to Ducas.

"I think we're good. No one saw us." I say, catching my breath.

"Happy 16th birthday, Bobby!" he shouts.

"Best present ever. Getting the fuck out of that shithole!" I say.

Today me and my best friend, Ducas Pope, ran away from hell. Our group home. The Shady Acres Society for Orphaned Children. I've been here since I killed my father five years ago. They don't know that, though. My little brother Billy is in a mental institute. He's a fucking nut.

"You remember the plan, right, fuckface?" I ask Ducas.

"Of course, dickwad! What do you think I am? Stupid?"

"No, I was just checkin'." I lie.

He's stupid. As stupid as they come. Dumb as a fucking doorknob. Which is why he's perfect for my plan. It's why I chose him. He and I have one project, and I have another. We stop running but walk fast. The sun just came up not too long ago, and we still have some road to cover before we reach our destination—Shady Financial on First. Today I give myself a birthday present. I can't remember the last one I received.

I've been planning this for years. Ducas here, thinks we've been planning this for months. A bank robbery. The perfect plan. Well, that's the first part of it, anyway. The part he knows. He'll find out about the other part, eventually. For now, he's on a 'need to know' basis.

"We have to hurry, Bobby. My brother said he left us the mini-motorbike just up here, past mile marker eight. Behind the big willow tree. I hope no fucking crackhead took it. He said he buried it in branches when he left from his last visit with me."

We slow our roll as we approach the mile marker eight sign. There's the willow tree. Where's the bike? Ducas goes running up ahead of me.

"Here it is! I've found it!" he screams.

"Shut the fuck up, idiot, you're going to get us caught."

"The key is right here where he said he left it. We've got to give him some money out of this, or he'll say something."

I'm not too fond of threats.

"Don't worry about him; I'll take care of him. Just get on." I motion my hand to the seat behind me.

He hops on, and I start up the bike. First Street isn't too far from here.

"There's enough gas, right? He has the car waiting where he said it would be, right Ducas?"

"Yes. My brother is good like that. It'll be there. Just go."

I speed off down the road. I can see the lights of the bank at the end stretch of the road we're on. I inhale a deep breath, for what's about to go down needs a deep breath. I'm about to rob a bank on my birthday. We're almost there. It should be opening soon.

As we get to the crossroads of the bank, I pull behind a pillar.

"Okay. As soon as I go in, you run to where the car is, around the corner. Have the trunk open and ready."

He agrees and starts on his way. I look at the glass doors. Everything I want is on the other side of these glass doors. It's on the other side of fear. I take one final deep breath as I see the lady walk towards the door to open them for the day. It's time. Don't back out now, pussy.

I walk up to the door, my motorcycle helmet on still—knapsack in hand. There's a lineup of people starting to come in. The manager has the vault open, getting money out for the day—my birthday money. I jump up on the counter and pull out my gun. I kick everything off the counter.

"Get the fuck on the floor, and don't you even think about pushing that alarm, cunt. Hands up! You. Over to the manager, fill up this bag. Now!" I holler.

She looks like she's about to piss herself. If I weren't so preoccupied, it'd be turning me on. Who am I kidding? It still is.

I toss her the bag and keep the gun pointed at her head while she walks over to the vault where the fat, round bank manager is standing.

"Fill it. Now! No dye packs, or I'll come back and find you and your family and kill them all while you watch. I'll fucking enjoy it, so don't tempt me." I say as I smile.

The blubbering man knows I mean it. He starts to fill up the bag faster now. Everyone else is still on the floor. I wave the gun around some more for effect. Fatboy better be in the car. He better not fuck this up.

"None of that small shit, either, Big bills. Mix them up, too. I don't want a bunch with the same sequence."

He hands me the overflowing knapsack, and I immediately wallop him in the back of his head with the gun. I hit her, too. I point the gun at the security guard. He's older than dirt and isn't going to do much. I can tell that by the piss on the front of his uniform. I push through the glass doors and hop on the waiting, still turned on motorbike. I can hear the alarm now as I speed off, and I know that cops are on the way. I make a sharp left and bolt off fast down the street. I quickly make another left to a hidden spot, off the side of the main highway.

There he is in the car. I quickly brake and hop off the tiny bike. We throw it in the trunk and jump in the car. Now we've got to drive the car out of here quickly. They're looking for one guy on a motorbike, not two guys in a shitty brown vehicle. We just can't let the cops see us. There are hats in the backseat, waiting for us.

I jump in the driver's seat, and he gets in the passenger seat. I throw on the hat and start the car. I can hear sirens in the distance. We need to get to my family's old barn a few miles from here. I pull back out onto the highway and attempt to get the car straight. Just in time, as we pass two cop cars. They're going so fast they don't even look at us. I'm driving the speed limit and not trying to stand out. I see the barn out in the distance. Almost there. It won't be long now.

I turn right down the long dirt road of the home I used to live at with my family. The farmhouse, still abandoned. No one wants to live there after the murder. I pull the car right into the barn. I get out and run to shut the giant red doors.

"Help me, idiot!" I yell.

He gets out and runs to help me.

"Let me see it! How much do you think we got, Bobby? Huh? Think we're rich?" he asks while dancing.

He tries to grab the bag from my hands. I punch him hard in the shoulder; and he falls to the ground.

"Don't touch it until I say, alright? I want to make sure we're in the clear." I say. I peek out of a crack in the barn door. "We need to stay here until nightfall."