Through A Glass, Darkly (The Assassins of Youth MC #1)(29)
I soon found out one of them.
“Woman.”
I twirled around to face the odious man. I hadn’t seen him since he’d beaten me with the rolling pin. I folded my hands before my lap and lowered my head. “Sir.”
He was so repulsive, with his oily hair that always showered dandruff onto his shoulders, his bald eagle’s nose, his stupid bolo tie. “I’ve heard rumblings that you may not approve of my decision regarding Vonda and Orson Ream.”
“My approval should have nothing to do with your decision,” I said ambiguously.
“I also got wind of some sightings of your truck over at the High Dive in town.” He meandered around the office as though about to whip a riding crop from his belt. I turned like a decorative Christmas tree to keep my face to him at all times. “It occurred to me you may be enamored of my new business partner, that outsider biker, Gideon Fortunati.”
I bluffed. “Who? That biker you met with weeks ago?”
“Don’t play games, woman. I know all and see all. The amount of guilt we experience is related to how intentional the hurt we cause.”
“But I have meant to cause no—”
“Shut up!” He turned on me, taking two stomping steps toward me. We were now nearly face-to-face, and I wished more than anything Gideon’s truck would pull up. Of course, it occurred to me Allred had invited me here a half hour before Gideon was due to arrive, simply in order to torment me. “You feel no guilt because you’re a lowdown sinner from the outside, a slut who hankers after the rebel prick of Gideon Fortunati! I’ll give you a rebel prick, you thankless slut! Down on your f*cking knees!”
Steeling my heart—and my innards—for what was about to happen, I kneeled. I tried one last time. “Prophet, I have not spent more than two seconds thinking about that bike—”
“Bullshit! I call bullshit on your f*cking lying, slutty games! Here!” Of course, he was shoving his limp, smelly hambone in my face. I made a nominal effort to turn my head this way and that, but he just grasped the back of my skull and smashed my face into his stinky pubic hairs. “Suck me the way you wished you could suck Mr. Fortunati. I know you want his big, fat, studly penis in your mouth, so suck! That’s it! The pain you’ll feel as a result of your sin is just the result of the bad choices you’ve made. Ah, yes, my slut, suck me better. Better, I said! The pain you feel isn’t God’s retribution—it’s the pain from your bad choices!”
As if I’d decided to smoke some marijuana, or had had the nerve to watch an R-rated movie.
I sucked because I had to, moving my head back and forth mechanically. He shouted at me to put more gusto into it, so I moved my head faster. A burning bile was stuck in the pit of my throat, and that was practically all I could think of, being accustomed to having to perform this unpleasant task. If I vomited all over his meat whistle, he’d probably beat me with my own laptop.
“Come on! Show me how much you love it! Show me how much you love sucking the penis of that big, bad biker!”
But it was impossible to pretend, to fantasize with that half-limp sausage in my mouth, and I was flooded with gratitude when the distant rumblings of a truck pierced my consciousness.
Allred didn’t stop, then, though. He kept yelling about Gideon’s delicious penis to the point where I wondered who really wanted to suck it. Only when the truck’s engine was killed just outside did Allred admit defeat. Shoving with his palm against my forehead, I went spinning back on my bottom.
“Worthless slut! I hope your daughter does a better job than you!”
He stormed to hit the switch for the roll-up dock door. I sat on my bottom in shock. It had never occurred to me that Allred would use my daughter in such a way. I tried not to think about Orson doing it—that was bad enough. But I had only known Allred to use and abuse his own wives, not the wives of others. That was his particular, skewed moral compass at work, I’d always told myself.
I was still sitting there when Gideon’s wonderful voice wafted over. “No problem at all taking over from the driver in Mesquite. I left my associates outside the gates here. Everything went smooth as silk.”
“Well, that’s great, just great, Mr. Fortunati. I only want to deal with you, as you know. I asked Mr. Pipkin to accompany us—why, here he is now.”
But Gideon Fortunati had a curious soul, and he peeked around the corner into the office. The concern that flashed across his face stunned me into wakefulness, and I started getting to my feet.
“What the f*ck is this?” he barked.
“What?” said Allred, out of sight around the corner. “Oh, I asked Mahalia to join us to catalog the products we’re going to be warehousing here. She’s got a great mind for—” Allred’s stupid fake smile was wiped off his face when he watched Gideon stride forward and help me to my feet.
“What happened?” Gideon asked. “Did you fall?”
“Yes, that’s it,” I whispered. “I fell.”
He brushed off my shoulders in a way that was too intimate for two business partners such as we were supposed to be. “You didn’t fall.”
“No,” I whispered, and looked meaningfully at Allred.
“As I was saying.” Allred strode in chuckling. “Mahalia here has all the warehousing software at her fingertips, so now that Parley’s here, let’s move along and make sure everything’s up to par.”