Page 421 - Some Dance to Remember
P. 421

Some Dance to Remember                                     391

                  He sped north through the City, wildly through the rain, heading
               toward the Bridge. Through the windshield, his face was lit like a crystal
               demon speeding through the orange mist of the Golden Gate, heading
               toward the dark freeway to Bar Nada. A whim to stop and jump crossed
               his mind, but he was too angry to kill himself. He knew what he must do.
               He pressed on through the rain. His heart was racing like a bad speed trip.
               He flew through the night. He felt like a small-town mailbag snatched
               up by a speeding express train. His car roared up the gravel drive to the
               ranch house.
                  Logan was standing in the rain waiting for him. He was big, dark
               with steroid-rage in his yellow rain slicker. Kick had called ahead and
               warned him.
                  “You skinny-necked geek,” Logan shouted. “You’re not throwing me
               out of here!”
                  “You’re history!” Ryan shouted. The rain drenched him.
                  “You’re nothing!” Logan walked slowly toward him. “You’re not get-
               ting any of the grass. We sold it months ago.” He pointed to the carport.
               “See the new truck? It’s in my name! It’s in Kick’s name! We bought it,
               geek! Together! We took you, you lame wimp! Because you were easy to
               take.”
                  “You’re a liar!”
                  “No,  you  dickhead,  you’re  the  liar!”  He  pushed  his  face  close  up
               against Ryan’s. “You never even had sex with him. He told me so. Except
               for that one night when I sat on your face. He said we had to have a three-
               way with you. Whoa! What a joke! It was a mercy-fuck!”
                  Ryan threw a punch into Logan’s hard gut.
                  “You fuckin’ pussy!” He slapped Ryan across the face “You fuckin’
               wimp!” He backhanded him again. “You cunt!” He punched Ryan in the
               stomach.
                  Ryan doubled over.
                  Logan  wrapped  his arm around Ryan’s waist, turned him  upside
               down, and shook him. Ryan gasped for air. Logan bear-hugged him and
               carried him to the barn, dragging Ryan’s head through the mud, kicking
               his face with his boots. “We’ll see who’s fucking who,” he said. He threw
               Ryan on the floor, straddled his weight across his chest, and beat his face.
                  “We...,” Ryan shouted between the punches, “...made...love!”
                  “Pussy!”
                  “We...made...love!”
                  “You geek-cunt pussy!”
                  “You can kill me...”

                        ©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
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