"No" Rick leaned forward and smiled. He looked like a Great White Shark; his teeth were white and long, his eyes dull and emotionless, like a predator's. "You replaced the star of our film with a baby. You let her con you into giving you money and you let the bitch go."
"I gave those two fuckheads orders to bring that bitch back when she led them to the homeless chick and the baby!" Al protested, his voice rising. He was getting pissed now.
"Bullshit," Tim muttered in a low voice.
"You fucking me?" Al turned on Tim, feeling himself grow hot with anger and agitated from the cocaine he had snorted a few minutes ago. "Yau back-stabbing fuck, you fucking with me?"
"Who instructed Mr. Murray to release the star of our film?" Rick Shectman grinned casually at Al.
"his goddamn sonofabitch-" Al pointed at Tim.
"You made the call to Sam," Tim said, trying to look casual. He looked nervous, and Al knew immediately that the fat fuck had squealed the minute Sam began sniffing for holes in the story he'd told him. "You told him we'd gotten hold of that homeless chick and the kid-"
"And I told Sam that there was the potential for more money and-" Al protested.
'And Sam told me he never received a phone call from you," Rick replied.'Bad move, Mr. Pressman'
Al turned to Rick. He was instantly sober. "Now wait. TbUs-"
Tim interrupted. 'You said that it was a go. I thought you'd talked to Sam and the plans were changed. You told me to take Lisa and drive her to her bank and make her find the chick and the kid. And I did'
"And I also told you to bring that cunt back!" Al yelled.
1 bat's not what you told me," Tim said quickly.
"Bullshit!" Al felt hot with anger. Tim Murray was lying to save his own fat ass. He'd been called on the carpet by Sam and Rick, and now he was backpedaling to save himself. He knew he had fucked up by letting Lisa escape, and he was doing everything he could to shift the blame to Al.
Rick hopped off the skid casually. He looked at Ani- mal.'1 don't know" He shrugged. He looked at Tim and Al.'I don't know what to make of this shit, personally. All I know is, my client is fucking pissed. You know how much business I get from this guy?"
Al opened his mouth to respond, then dosed it. He had no idea how much money Rick made from this faceless client, whoever the fuck he was. Probably just another closet pervert like the rest of them, but what did he care? Closet perverts usually had money falling out of their assholes.'ihat's all that mattered to Al.
'You know what matters the most in all this?" Rick was addressing Tim and Al. He took a step forward. Tim automatically retreated back, his face showing the slightest registration of fear. Al forced himself to stand his ground. Let that fat-ass fuck Tim Murray cower with his tail between his legs. He was the one that fucked things up.
'You deaf?' Rick asked, taking another step toward them, leaning forward as if he were straining to listen to them. "What the fuck did I just say?"
"You asked if we know what matters most," Al said.
"Bravo!" Rick Shectman clapped his hands, applauding. Al Pressman does have acute listening skills! Let's put them to the test. What did Sam tell you three weeks ago when he gave you the job?"
"Shit," Al said. He felt his limbs grow tingly. He knew where this was leading.
"Wrong answer," Rick said, and then he hit Al so hard and so fast that Al didn't even see it coming. He caught a brief flash of the fury in Rick's face, felt the sudden whoosh and saw the flash, and then he felt a freight train crash into his face and he knew no more.
It was the pounding headache that brought Al Pressman back to consciousness.
The cool air prickled gooseflesh on Al's bare skin. He groaned. His head felt like a sledgehammer had split it open. He was almost afraid to open his eyes.
He was lying on something cool. Concrete? Steel? It was hard to tell.
The cool air against his skin told him he had been stripped of his clothes.
He opened his eyes. A wave of pain broke out across his forehead and eyeballs.
"I think our star is waking up." Rick's voice.
Fuck. Al struggled to open his eyes. Fuck no, luck no, luckno-
He got his eyes open and tried to sit up, but the rope binding his arms to his sides prevented him from doing so.
At first he couldn't see much; his vision was blurred and doubled. He blinked and the first thing that swam into his vision was Rick Shectman, leaning forward, grin ning at him. "Well, well! You're awake! Good, good! Now maybe we can proceed further, yes?"
A wave of nausea washed over Al and he felt the urge to vomit. He could hardly breathe; his nose was clogged with mucus and dried blood; it felt broken, too.
Rick turned to his right. Tim?"
Tim stepped forward and headed to Al's feet. He wouldn't look at Al. Tim reached down and picked up Al's feet by the ankles. Al saw that his legs were bound, too.
"What. " Al croaked.
"Save your voice and your energy," Rick purred. He leaned over Al's head as he gripped him under the armpits. Rick and Tim hoisted Al up and carried him to the other side of the print shop and laid him down on a sheet of black plastic.
"What…" Al started again, realization setting in. "No… what… what's going.. "
Then Al saw Animal.
While Al had lain unconscious, Jeff had slipped into the role of Animal. He had shed his casual attire and now stood in the corner, completely naked except for his black bondage mask.
And the tremendous strap-on dildo that he had fastened around his waist at the groin.
With the seven-inch steel blade affixed to the plastic phallus.
Al sucked in air and began screaming, wiggling like a fish out of water as he tried to escape. His throat was dry, so his screams came out sounding like raspy squawks. Rick and Tim held him down while Animal stepped forward. Al's eyes bugged out of their sockets. "No, please don't, please don't do this, nopleasedon't- dothis-"
"I just have two questions for you, Mr. Pressman," Rick Shectman said. He stood up and planted one booted foot on Al's chest. He pressed his weight down, pinning Al to the floor.
Al didn't hear him. All he could see was Animal standing behind Tim, who held his feet down. Animal's eyes were indifferent, without compassion. It was almost as if he didn't even know the man behind the mask anymore, as if five years of working together side by side had all been obliterated.
"'IWo things," Rick said, peering down at Al. "The woman. He pressed more of his weight down on Al's chest. "She left vital information: Social Security card, driver's license, credit card, checkbook, wallet, photos of her husband and family. Her purse, perhaps. Where is it?"
"My bag," Al said quickly, huffing for breath. "Front seat of my car."
Rick turned to Tim. "Get it."
Tim left his position and went to get Al's bag.
Al ceased struggling for a moment and tried to make eye contact with Rick. "It's there," he said. "I can get her easily. Animal and me, we'll get her."
"I'm sure you will." Rick smiled.
Al's thoughts were racing. He swore to — God that he would never fuck up again. Christ, when this was all over he was never going to work for Rick Shectman and Sam Bash again, period. All he had to do was stay calm and when Tim came back with the purse he would show Rick. The Ruskie would see that nabbing Lisa would be easy. Shit, he'd do it tonight if Rick wanted him to. He'd go down to Orange County and snag the bitch himself. He didn't care if anybody saw him or not. He didn't give a fuck if he had to face jail time-doing time was preferable than facing Animal.
"When Tim comes back, I'll go down and get her," Al said, putting a plan to action. He licked his lips. "Let Animal come with me, we'll get her. She's probably still traumatized by what happened anyway. We'll go down there, case the place out, break in this evening when her and her hubby are asleep. We'll kill the husband first thing, get him out of the way and then-"