crime and punishment.
A connection of eyes was all that was needed for a goodbye between the two men. It meant their minds were in sync, and two heads are always better than one.
Chapter Three
Maury did everything he could to tune out the voice of his wife, …which was impossible the way she screeched. What was I thinking when I got married? A smile slowly spread over his face as he thought about what it would feel like to choke the life out of his wife. That would shut her up. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought about killing a woman. All they did was cause a man trouble. Worthless creatures didn’t deserve to live. They were good for two things: fucking and degrading. Just look at that bitch Rum. The poor guy couldn’t even get a hooker because of her. She tried to kill him, and he couldn’t get a date from a worthless hooker. Oh, the irony. It wasn’t fair. The more he thought about it, the more the resentment grew. Soon the nagging thoughts would become shouts to avenge he couldn’t ignore.
Maury was a misogynistic prick. Of course, in his pea-sized brain, he forgot he’d tried to kill Rum, and his ass deserved to have his car pushed in the creek—with him in it. He’d beat up the wrong hooker—a girl with brains and balls.
“Mauuuury,” Earlene walked up behind him and smacked his shoulder, causing coffee to splash over on the table.
“Now look what you’ve done!” she dramatically pointed to the mess, which was nothing more than a few drops of coffee. Never mind the mess was her fault. Earlene wasn’t happy, and in her way of thinking, it was all Maury’s fault. She should have married the guy who owned the neighborhood dry-cleaner, but no, she had to marry this worthless bag of bones. He had a shitty car, she lived in a shitty house, and Maury had the social standing of a coconut. She could have been a business owner and had prestige. What started as seeds of resentment, she had turned into a full-grown weeping willow. Everything was always about Earlene, and the world should sympathize with her, or so she thought. She’d be horrified if she knew what most people thought about her whining. Wah-wah-wah or here’s the world’s smallest violin, were usually what hid behind their smiling faces that looked for a way to get away from the woman who never did anything but whine.
Maury decided he needed to go for a ride before his fantasy of choking the bitch turned into headline news. He walked out to his car as fast as he could to get away from the screeching shrew who was now out on the porch screaming something about something he was tuning out. He laughed when he thought about Charlie Brown’s teacher. She made more sense than Earlene did. Bitches, they’re all bitches…or whores like Rum.
Calix sat in his SUV. The air was thick with a need for revenge. He was a man who was quiet by nature, and when still waters run deep, there’s always a deadly current beneath them. It’s the quiet ones ya gotta watch out for. He often wondered how many geeks and nerds were underestimated—girls like Rum. Rum was a reader, and readers were smart. It was the reason he insisted Jr., his little brother, went to private school. Calix was the father Jr. didn’t have.
He watched Maury standing at his door, fighting with his wife. He laughed, your wife doesn’t just wear the pants in the family, she has you by the balls and mops the floor with ‘em. A predator always spotted a weakness. Didn’t take much stalking for Calix to see Maury’s, it was as loud as Earlene’s voice. Earlene’s voice was filled with shrill accusations of her husband’s unworthiness. She was right. Maury was a sorry sonofabitch. He was trash, and the only way to deal with trash was to take it out. Of course, Calix’s version was different than most. He didn’t take his trash to the corner; he took it to the dump. Granted, there were various ways to dump a body, but he had to give the Colombians props for being creative in the way they dealt with their failed business endeavors. Russians, Colombians, Sinaloans, ruthless mother fuckers. The hint of a smile showed in his eyes.
Calix’s jaw twitched—never a good sign. Rum had told him at one time she thought it was sexy. He wondered