Lowering his gun, Dean laughed and said, “I was just going to smash your hands and then let you free.” Looking at his hammer, he continued, “It doesn’t look like you can be trusted though.”
At that moment, the leader bit his bottom lip, pulled the hammer behind his head and delivered an almighty blow across the side of Frank’s face. It was quick, brutal and sank into his temple with a wet squelch, pushing his left eye forwards.
The men behind Frank let go of him as if he were diseased, allowing his heavy body to fall face first onto the pavement. It was clear he was dead, but this didn’t stop Dean. Looking at the man with the racket he said, “Don’t disobey my orders again.” He then swung at Frank’s head like he was trying to crack a rock, maintaining eye contact with the redheaded looter for the entire time. “I swear, Boris Becker, if you do, I will pull every fucking fingernail from your girly hands.” He then swung again, and again, and again. Every swing threw up blood and pulp, adding more to the crusty layer on his suit. On every upswing, he paused at the pinnacle, looked at the man with the racket and then drove his hammer down harder than before.
Within minutes, all that was left of Frank’s head was a pulped mess of bone, hair and brain matter. Dean had done more damage to him than the truck had to Tommy. Spinning around, Chris vomited all over the bedroom floor, the thick fruit salad he’d eaten for breakfast clogging his throat and making him bray like a donkey as he fought to breathe.
Michael watched his dad in silence, his pale face washed out from the recent panic attack.
When Chris recovered, the floor was a mess, the back of his nose was burned by stomach acid, and he was sweating like a racehorse. Looking at his son, he saw that his eyes were still wide and glassy, like marbles. The shock had paralyzed him. Stroking his son’s fine blonde hair and wiping his tear-sodden cheeks, Chris wanted to comfort him but felt like he had to look out of the window again to see what the looters would do next.
The twitching curtain must have given him away because when Chris looked outside, he made eye contact with the huge black man in the sheepskin jacket. Pulling back from the window, he sat with his back pressed against the cold radiator, and for the first time in his life, he held his hands together in prayer. As he listened to the conversation outside, his heart beat like it was trying to escape his chest.
“What is it, George?” Dean asked.
The big man had a booming voice, and he replied calmly, “Nothing, I was just looking in the houses to see if there was anyone else here.”
The silence was prolonged, and scenarios started flashing through Chris’ mind that all resulted in him and his son being captured. He wanted to look, to see if they were communicating non-verbally, but he knew that if he did, then they’d see him.
Just before he went to another window, Dean finally broke the silence and addressed the cul-de-sac once more. “Well, if there are people here, we’ll find them, and if they try to hide from us, it will be ten times worse for them than it was for ‘He-Man’ and his family.”
Chris pulled his son into his arms again and pressed his lips against his small head. When he closed his eyes, he saw a pulped mess of blood and blonde hair outside in the street and squeezed Michael tighter.
Continuing, Dean addressed the cul-de-sac again. “I wear a suit because the men in suits have been fucking me for years.” His voice broke as he growled, “Well, ‘one percent’, now it’s my fucking turn, and I will be as ruthless as you have.”
Chris started to cry again and hated himself for not leaving sooner as he thought about the conversation he’d had with his boss six-months previously.
Severance
The force with which Dick sucked barbecue sauce from his fingers made it look like the skin and flesh would come off with the marinade. Imagining him on his knees in a public toilet, Chris smirked and said, “You seem to have quite a talent, Dick.”
Maxine, Dick’s secretary, raised an eyebrow and a half smile at Chris’ comment as she walked past him after placing an envelope on Dick’s desk.
The combination of the feeding frenzy and Maxine’s wiggling bottom robbed Dick of conscious thought, of which there was little to begin with. Looking up at Chris, he said, “Huh?” his mouth slack.
Wondering whether a sharp jab to his potato nose would help bring him into the present moment, Chris shook his head and said, “It doesn’t matter.”
Looking at his white-haired underling, Dick then glanced at the letter placed on his desk and quickly looked back up at Chris. The internal memo was obviously from the board and was obviously something Dick clearly didn’t want to draw attention to. Chris sighed, thinking his boss was about as conspicuous as a hippo hiding up a tree.
Calling after his secretary, Dick said, “Thanks, Maxine love. Thanks, honey.” It was Dick’s way of being overly friendly with women. He’d do it to anyone female—the girls in the bakery, the post woman, even his employees’ wives directly in front of his employees. Chris had once spent an evening at a dinner party watching Diane giggling at all of Dick’s pathetic jokes. He didn’t really care; the only downside for him was that they hadn’t run off together afterwards. Chris had seen this kind of behavior before with fat men like Dick; they’d behave in a way that pushed the boundaries, playing on the fact that they were unattractive to the opposite sex. He posed no threat, so he thought he could say whatever he liked. Chris could see that the deluded man genuinely thought all his smarmy comments were making the women feel good, but the fact was, most of them looked like they wanted to run a mile when he verbally pinned them down. They looked like they’d crawl free of their own skin to be away from him.
Stood in the lavish office, the smell of mahogany and cheap meat throwing off a contradictory aroma, Chris watched the fat man tilt his head sideways and continue to stare at his secretary with rapist’s eyes. He chewed furiously as if this would suppress his urges—as if his mastication were masturbation.
Once she was out of the room, he heaved a heavy sigh and took another bite from one of the ribs on the tray in front of him. “What a woman, eh?”
Chris thought about Maxine. She was pretty, there was no doubt about that, but she was stupid, and Chris had spent too much of his life around pretty, yet stupid women. He shrugged.
Dick sneered and said, “I’d just like to bend her over this desk right here.” He then thrust himself forwards, his wheeled chair aiding his pelvic smash.
Well and truly put off eating for the rest of the day, if not the entire week, Chris shivered as the sharp air-conditioning bit into him. Having noticed Maxine’s pert nipples as she left the room, he suddenly realized why it was so cold in here. Keen to be out of the office as soon as possible, Chris said, “So what’s up, Dick? You said you wanted to see me.”
Stroking some barbecue sauce from his newly cultivated goatee, and using the same napkin to dab his sweating neck, Dick looked at his lap, his chin disappearing into rolls of fat. He then released a hissing belch that sounded like it burned on the way out. When he looked back at Chris, barbecue sauce still clinging to the corners of his mouth, he said, “I’m sorry to say this, but we’re going to have to let you go.”
Burnt out from working fourteen-hour days for the last six months, Chris’ already jangly nerves started to wobble. When combined with the frosty air, he began to shiver, his stomach clenching like a fist. Scowling with such force that it hurt, he said, “You’re letting me go?”
Lifting his pudgy hands, Dick replied, “I’m sorry, Chris, I truly am.” Taking another bite of his ribs, he spoke with his mouth full, a piece of pork falling onto the leather desk. “These rogue countries leaving the Euro Zone have totally fucked us. Spain, Italy, and Greece are bankrupt economies now, and we’re too interconnected with the world for it not to have an impact. Germany has gone into recession, and the smaller countries are descending into total anarchy. The civil unrest is barbaric, and we need to do what we can to prevent that from happening here.”