Page 96 of Bad Seed
“Cute,” Mike says, circling his gun around my head. The bite of the barrel falls off my skin, but I can still feel it. My pulse throbs against the steel, wiping out any sound but the rush of blood about to spurt from my spinal column. “This isn’t your show, Miss. You’re going to sit there, quiet like, and not give us any trouble. Got it?”
“I wasn’t trying to be trouble. It’s been a long day. I’m really hungry and thirsty, and they offered too—”
He calmly pulls back the hammer. “I said to be quiet.”
My jaws slam shut.
“And when Talong shows up…you don’t move a muscle. Or else I’ll blow your head off right after his. Understand?”
I bite my lip to fight from speaking.
“You can nod,” he tells me. I jerk my head up and down. I got the message loud and clear.
“Here.” Ice clinks as Bradly thrusts out the glass of water. I reach a hand out, but Mike swipes it first. With his eyes locked on me, he takes a drink.
Then his lips knot.
His face curdles.
And he finally looks at the glass.
“Did you piss in this?” he shouts, whirling to his own man.
“It was for her,” Bradly mumbles only to be hit with the butt of a gun. It smashes his nose. Blood sprays from his nostrils, hitting my chest. I yelp and try to dodge, but it doesn’t matter. My once cute pink tank top is stained with mobster blood.
“You fucking degenerate!” Mike shouts, chasing him back. “Just do your damn job. We’re not here to fuck anyone, or make them drink your piss. Bradly, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Bradly stops trying to stuff tissues up his nose and shrugs.
“We’re here to keep an eye out for Talong. Do you think you can fucking do that?”
“Yeah,” the one by the phone says.
“Course,” Bradly mumbles.
“Good.” Mike moves to stuff his gun back in his waistband.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Now what?”
“Room service,” a cheery voice calls from the other side.
Mike nods to Bradly, who opens the door. I peer over their heads, hoping to recognize the delivery man, but he’s a stranger. Why did I even think I’d know him? No one knows I’m here. No one who cares about me, anyway.
The delivery guy quickly wheels the whole cart in. He doesn’t even wonder about the woman covered in blood sitting on a chair by the window. With a quick nod, he says, “Enjoy.” In a heartbeat, he’s gone, closing the door behind him.
“That was fast,” the wiry man says. “We should tell the boss his service here is top notch.”
Bradly, still holding the tissue to his face, reaches for the silver dome over a plate. “You really think he’ll care?”
“A compliment is a compliment,” the wiry one explains.
The dome lifts.
“What the fuck?”
“Why did you order an eggplant?”
