lay curled on her side, half out the doorway. From where he stood, he could only see her up to the waist. Her right hand was clutching the back of her thigh where the bullet had torn through just below the faded denim of her cut-off jeans. Her hand was all shiny and red. She squirmed as she held the wound.
“I’ll drag her in for you,” Quentin said. The bottle was empty. He had an excited look in his eyes.
“Go ahead.” Toby aimed the pistol at him.
“It’s cool,” he said. He set the bottle on the floor, then strolled sideways into the foyer. “I’ll help you with Bax, too. The fuckin’ pussy.”
“Just get Brenda in here.”
“You got it, pal.” He stepped past Brenda, crouched and grabbed her by the ankles. When he pulled her legs straight, she cried out and rolled onto her back. He dragged her the rest of the way into the house.
“Stop there and shut the door,” Toby said.
Quentin didn’t lower Brenda’s feet to the floor, he dropped them. The heels of her sneakers bounced. Brenda yelped, then rolled onto her side and curled up and clamped her hand to the bullet’s entry wound near the back of her thigh.
Quentin grinned down at her.
This guy’s okay, Toby thought. Or trying to fake me out.
Turning toward Toby, Quentin brushed his hands against the sides of his trunks. “What’s next?” he asked.
“Maybe I’ll put a bullet through your face.”
“I got a better idea.”
“Bet you do.”
“Let’s strip Brenda. Know what I mean?”
Toby laughed.
“I mean it. Get her naked, you can have all kinds of fun with her. I’ll hold her for you.”
Fran, still on her knees, was sobbing and whimpering.
“Shut up,” Toby told her.
She hunched over and buried her face in her hands.
“Okay, Quen,” Toby said. “Mind if I call you Quen?”
“Call me anything you want.”
“Get the T-shirt off her.”
“All right!”
“And tie it around her leg. Real tight. Make the bleeding stop. I’m gonna keep her around for a while and I don’t want her crapping out.”
“My pleasure,” Quen said. He sank to his knees and tugged the T-shirt up Brenda’s torso. When he had it rucked above her bikini top, he said, “Raise your arms.”
She did as told and Quen got to work again. The T-shirt turned inside-out. It took on the shape of her face and then it hid her arms and then it was off.
“Want me to take off the rest?” Quen asked.
“Want me to shoot you?”
“Not much.”
“Just do the bandage like I said.”
Quen spread the shirt on the floor, rolled it lengthwise, then wrapped it around Brenda’s thigh. He looked back at Toby. “I can’t tie it. It’s too short.”
“Hold it a minute.” He looked around for something that would serve to fix the makeshift bandage in place.
Maybe a lamp cord…
His own leather belt would be perfect. He unbuckled it and stripped it out of its loops.
His loose, baggy shorts, weighted by heavily loaded pockets, dropped around his ankles.
With a laugh, he stepped out of them.
Quen said, “Cool,” and caught the tossed belt. He wrapped it twice around Brenda’s shirt-wrapped thigh, then fit the end of the strap into the buckle. As he pulled it tight, she jerked rigid and gritted her teeth. He fastened the buckle.
“Good job,” Toby said.
“Now what?”
“You get a treat.”
Worry flickered in Quen’s eyes.
“Take off your trunks,” Toby said.
He looked as if he didn’t know whether to be delighted or terrified. With a trembling smile, he pulled down his swimming trunks and stepped out of them. Toby saw that he was partly aroused.
Can’t fake that.
“She’s all yours,” he said.
Quen’s face lit up. He looked down at Brenda.
“Not her. You gotta be kidding me. She’s mine, you dumb shit.”
“Oh. Okay.” Quen managed a feeble smile. “Sure.”
“You get Fatso.”
Fran let out a whine.
“That okay with you, Quen?”
“Sure.”
“Better a lard-ass than no ass at all, right?”
“You bet.” He stepped toward Fran.
“Leave her alone,” Brenda said from the floor, her voice shaky.
Toby grinned at her. “She’ll love it.” He turned to Fran. “Won’t you, Porky?”
Still on her knees, she sobbed into her hands.
“You’re gonna love it, right?” Toby asked.
“No,” she gasped. “Please.”
“Hopin’ it’d be me, huh? I know. I saw how you been looking at me. Only one problem, I don’t fuck fat ugly cows like you. That’s how come I’m givin’ the job to Quen.”
“Leave her…alone.”
“I am leaving her alone. Think I’d touch her? No way.” He nodded to Quen. “She’s all yours.”