Hustler

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A little after seven the next morning, the door to room A17 was pushed open and Davide stood on the other side. His abrupt entrance didn’t jolt the fifteen-year-old teen awake like it had yesterday.

Davide knocked his knuckles back against the doorframe, announcing, “It’s seven - get up.”

No response. He tried again. He did have a rough night, after all. He was probably exhausted.

"Kiran," he said. "Come on. You gotta get up."

Nothing.

The thought of Kiran ignoring him again made his blood boil. He didn’t care how tired or in how much pain the he was. He could at least answer him; shift his shoulders, mumble a groan - anything, and considering what happened last night, you’d think he would have already been out of that bed long before the clock even struck seven.

“Hey,” he spoke louder. “Get your ass up. Now.”

Not getting any reaction once more, Davide let himself into the room, tearing over to the bed where Kiran laid unresponsive.

“I said,” Davide began, reaching for the edge of the blanket. “Answer me, whore -..” He ripped it off and raised his brows. Instead of flinching against the sudden cold like Davide expected him to, the boy laid completely still, his back continuing to face his boss.

Davide's eyes instantly went to stare at what was accumulating around the entire lower half of him. The sheets were drenched with drying blood, and the dark, red spot prevalent between the back pockets of his denim jeans told him where the blood was coming from. There were still dried drops of it falling from his nose and lip.

They were a lot rougher with him than Davide told them to be.

He wanted them to show him what would happen if he disrespected Davide ever again, not fucking kill him.

Davide knew that either the boy was already dead or close to it.

He balled his fist, his knuckle turning white. He seethed, “God dammit.” There was nothing he could do. It’s been two days and he’s already killed a new worker, the one he’d thought would take the place of his star employee.

What pissed him off the most about the situation was that he’d have to go look for someone else to take Kiran's place.

Davide held his index finger under the boy’s nose, and his mind relaxed for a few seconds when he felt the slightest movement of warm air hit his skin, then he remembered Kiran was already too far gone. There really was nothing he could do - or at least nothing he was willing to do.

If he took him to the hospital to get help, he’d have to explain. The wounds were too obvious for him to lie about. Investigations would most likely be done.

He wasn’t willing to get caught and have his business ratted out. No life was worth that, especially not some random kid off the street. He’s brought in about four hundred bucks, but costed him nearly a thousand.

He really wasn't worth it.

“Sorry, kid,” he mumbled with a heavy sigh, pulling the cover back over top. He pulled out his cell phone.

He needed to get the body taken care of.

Walking back into the main office, he stood in the center of the room when the line began to ring. Another sigh and his eyes slanted to his right at the young girl sitting behind the counter.

Normally McKenzie would still be up in her room right now, but last night’s ordeal kept her awake, and with no client, she had to distract herself other work.

“I got a job for you.” She peered up from her pen. Davide hitched his thumb up. “Go up to A17 and get the sheets off that bed and put them in the wash.”

McKenzie started to stand.

“Not now!” he hissed at her. She plunked back down in the seat fearfully. “I’ll tell you when - just do it.” The line was finally answered and Davide pressed his fingers to his temples.

“I need a clean-up,” his tense voice spoke. “Fast.” The hair stood up on the back of McKenzie’s neck. The only times she’s heard that phrase was when something bad happened in one of the rooms. Either a guy got too violent and needed to be dealt with or - the most recent incident - someone got an infection from the chip inserted under their skin that killed them where they slept.

A17. That’s one of the rooms next to her. She couldn't figure which one, but as flashbacks raced through her mind, the renter of the room was obvious.

She knew something had to have happened to Kiran. Just because he was alive and breathing when she left doesn’t mean he made it through the night. There were injuries she didn’t tend to. Injuries that could’ve killed him. She knew that.

“Is Kiran okay?” she asked barely above a whisper.

Despite the severity of the situation, Davide broke away from his phone call to look at McKenzie.

“No,” he grinned. “Does that kill you?”

Her brows made a crease on her forehead. Davide smirked again, returning to his phone. He headed for his office, but stopped dead in his tracks when McKenzie did something almost on the Kiran-level of idiotic.

She hissed after a disgruntled scoff, “Why couldn’t you just leave him alone?”

Davide's brow rose as he turned to look at her. McKenzie immediately wanted to sink into nothingness and disappear into the air around her. His eyes dug a glare into her brain and she sheepishly stared down at the ground.

Her dumbass repeated, much quieter this time, "Why? He was fine without you."

"He was living in a fucking alley," Davide retorted back.

"But he wasn't getting abused every two minutes like he is here. He's wasn't getting the life beat out him. He was better off there." We all were. How bold she was being shocked her. Davide's an ass. The last time she stood up to him like this didn't end well.

Two fractured ribs and a concussion.

She had learned very early in her life that it didn't matter if she was his own flesh and blood. He didn't care about her the way he used to and she was no longer the same happy little girl he all but raised.

She was just another worker he'd do what he needed to do to keep at his beck and call.

What shocked her even more was Davide not tearing her a new one right now.

He scoffed. “What do you expect me to do? Huh?”

“Take him to the hospital?” she suggested after a second of anxious silence. “I don’t know. Just - something. Anything.”

Refusing to give in, he continued to scowl stubbornly.

Her eyes began to burn. “Please, Davide? He’s dying right now. We have to do something.” Her tearful plea struck a chord in him, but the dilemma made him stonecold.

“What lie are we going to tell them, then?” he shot out snobbishly. “I can’t have them knowing what happened, Kenzie. I really can’t.”
Another wave of tears built up. He called her Kenzie. It brought mixed emotions to her mind and made her feel unsure, adding to the anxiety she already was feeling.

“Just say he got attacked,” her tiny voice quivered.

“They’ll want to do an investigation. And it’ll cost money for his bill, and -”

“It’s not like you don’t have any money,” she said bitterly, quickly saying after, “And it’s not like this will be that huge of a deal. No one’s gonna break their back over some random kid. Shit like this happens all the time and not much is ever done for them - at least not every single case.” - She swallowed hard. - “Why would he be any different?”

“He won’t be,” Davide stressed. He sighed heavily as he stood in deep thought. His lips pursed and then another sigh.

His shoulders popped a shrug and McKenzie’s back relaxed.

“It’s been a few years since my last good deed, hasn’t it?”

McKenzie’s laugh was short and humourless.

“They’ve been the worst few years of my goddamn life.”

A smiled creased Davide’s face. “Well, time to lighten up. You’re lucky you’re family. They would’ve been wheeling you out of here with him.” He dug in his pocket and flung a set of keys into her possession, telling her, “Go get the car. Pull around front.” She squeezed her eyes shut in relief, ignoring most of what he said, and sighed.

“You’ll help him?” she asked.

“I’ll see what I can do. Get the car.”

Davide returned to his phone call, telling the person on the other end, “Never mind. Guess we’re coming to you.” McKenzie relaxed, darting out the front door, taking a shortcut around the side of the building. Davide’s camaro sat hidden in the parking lot out back. McKenzie unlocked the door and slipped in, hastily tearing out of the lot and parking near the front entrance.

She anxiously rapped her fingertips against the steering wheel, breathing out a shaky sigh.

-

Dropping the call, Davide hurried up the steps, back into the room the unconscious boy laid. He was still covered by the blankets. Davide pulled the corner to check that there was still air flowing from his bent and bloody nose.

He heaped him up from the bed bridal-style and made ways to the door, pulling it shut behind him. The body was slumped into the backseat and a wave of remorse to put a scowl on McKenzie’s pale face.

Davide grunted at her to move and they pulled a Chinese-Fire-Drill. Keeping her stare on the mound in the backseat, Mckenzie slipped into the passenger’s side, trying hard to stop her shoulders from shaking.

They pulled out of the parking lot and were out on the street in seconds, but McKenzie closed her eyes and whimpered when Davide didn’t take a left. He turned in the opposite direction, going down passed the fork in the road that would take them to the neighboring city.

“Where are we going?” she asked quietly, pushing her fingers to her temple.

“Somewhere to take care of him.”

“The hospital’s that way.”

“You said ‘the hospital or something.’ This is something. It's not the best thing but it's something.”

McKenzie stared at him incredulously, then her head tipped down in.

“You’re going to let him die.”

“I’m doing what I can,” he gritted back. “I take him to the hospital and they’ll ask questions. I take him to Chuck and all is good.”

“He’s going to kill him,” she said gravely. “You know he will. How many times have you taken someone to him, and they’ve ended up dead in his barn? Don’t let him die like this.”

Davide cut in, “I let him kill them. There’s a reason they were fucked up so bad they needed to go to the hospital. They screwed up. They deserved what they got. Kiran deserves what he gets.”

McKenzie’s jaw almost unhinged, brows nearly forming a unibrow as they furrowed in disgust.

Appalled, she shook her head.

“You are going to let Chuck kill him. Why are you bringing me along for that? To make me watch?”

“You gotta learn too.”

“God, you make me sick,” she said after a moment of shock. “I don’t know what you think you’re getting from this, but you don’t do shit like this to other people..”
McKenzie’s eyes squeezed shut and she recoiled back before the realization that she had been smacked even registered. She gasped, her skin stinging. Clamping her hand over her nose, her eyes began to water instantly.

Davide seethed, “Shut your goddamn mouth - you hear me? I have no problem killing you too.”

She kept quiet, biting the inside of her lips to keep the cuss words and tears from bellowing out. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Davide gripped his hands around the steering wheel and he began to mutter to himself.

“This whole thing was a fucking mistake,” he grumbled. “He was a mistake. Kid’s gonna end up costing me the absolute world - and for what? Snarky comebacks and a couple g’s in return? He’s not worth it. I should let him die.”

McKenzie finally let out a sob. She cried into her hands.

They pulled onto a gravel road, slowly making it to down the long driveway. Chuck lived alone, far out on a solitary country road in big white farmhouse. There was about a soccer pitch distance between any neighbouring lots. He was secluded for the most part, and it worked perfectly with his little side-projects and hobbies. He carried most of those out in the basement of his infamous barn.

Davide parked near the giant, burgundy red barn before turning the key and filling the car with an eery silence.

She continued to cry quietly. Davide’s skin tingled and he felt pressure build in his jaw and chest. Anger. Annoyance. He lashed out suddenly, hitting her twice.

“Shut your damn mouth!” he snapped. “Just - shut up. God damnit.”

He threw open the driver side door and pulled the keys out of the ignition. He met eyes with the figure standing illuminated up on the front porch of the farmhouse. Chuck Bryson gave a two-finger salute, which Davide did not return. He puffed the end of a joint, then snubbed it out against the door frame as Davide hauled the lifeless body from the backseat.

“Want some help with that?” Chuck asked in between two hacking coughs, descending the steps out into the yard.

Davide swayed his head towards the barn. “Just get that door open.”

Chuck jingled through a set of keys until he found the right one. Passing in front of the camaro, he stopped to peer through the windshield. A sinister smile formed under his moustache, his dark, soulless eyes prying to get a good look. McKenzie felt disgusted.

He waved at her. “Hello, darlin’.”

She kept her glare. McKenzie has seen Chuck multiple times around Davide’s motel, either hooking up with the young boy in the complex next to her or loading half-dead bodies into the back of his pick-up truck. His reputation made her steer clear of him. This is the first time they’ve been this close to each other.

He’s a killer and a rapist and god only knows what really goes in that barn.

Davide slammed the back door shut. Tears were building again as she watched him carry Kiran away and towards the barn. Down the side of the structure was a normal sized door. Chuck unlocked it and the trio disappeared inside.

She was left to sit in the dark, the only sound were her sobs.

-

The lights came on with a click, though they were unneeded. Rays of morning light filtered through the rough hewn wood and stretched across the old oak floor.

The top floor was your average barn-turned-garage. Countertops lined the walls. There was a workspace near the main entrance, complete with various tools hanging up on the wall in front of it and pads of paper laying out on the countertops’ surface. Big open floor space and then a car that Chuck kept hidden and protected from the world around it with a tarp. His latest ‘fixer-upper’.

In the middle of the room down on the floor, between where they stood and the car, was a latch. Chuck knelt and, pulling out another key, he unhinged the hidden door and let it fall open. On the keychain of wonders, he found a little flashlight. He went in first, making it down the narrow stairway, occasionally asking if Davide needed any help.

The reply was always ‘no.’

It was utterly dark and the horrid stench of decay hit you about halfway down the stairs. Chuck flipped on the lights, dimly lighting the underground room. About the size of the typical living room. Maybe a bit smaller. There was a single mattress pushed up against the far wall, no sheet and unfathomably dirty. Davide tried not to stare too long at the photos plastered on the wall above it. Dozens of photographs were hung up. Pictures of people. Mostly boys but a few girls. Younger, older. Some naked, others close to being there. A few were tied up and bound, the snapshots capturing them crying, begging for their life, all bloodied and bruised. Some weren’t even alive at all.

There was an examination table/chair in the center of the room with straps for all extremities, and behind it, a wall of what looked to be surgical instruments, clearly there for torturing purposes.

Davide chuckled humorlessly, reaching the last step. “You’re quite the sick fuck, Bryson.”

“Well, I try - put him there.”

Davide followed his instructions and carefully laid Kiran onto the table. He stirred slightly, groaning quietly, but didn’t wake.

Chuck was captivated by him. He slowly circled the table, stopping near his head. His eyes trailed down his body, taking in his features. The way the blood had dried into his hairline and around the brim of his nose...

“God, he’s beautiful,” Chuck mumbled in awe. He looked up at Davide. “You want me to kill him?”

“Ah,” Davide cracked his knuckles, staring up at the ceiling, then around the room, and back at Chuck. “Haven’t decided yet. That boy may be ‘beautiful’ but he’s a little prick. You would not believe the shit he’s stirring up. He’s a fucking hassle. I’m tired of dealing with him - but,” Davide sighed a laugh, looking up again. “Kenzie’s got herself a little crush, I think. It’s always ‘Is he hurt? Is he gonna be okay’? Blah. blah, blah. Shame is..she’s getting to me.”

“Want me to take care of her?”

“No,” Davide chuckled again. “No. I need her. As much of a pain she is, she’s family. Gotta keep her around. She’s just going to be annoying if I kill him. She’ll bitch and bitch and bitch. It’ll be annoying.”

Chuck nodded, smiling. “Right. So you want me to..save him?”

“If you could, please.”

Chuck was staring back down at Kiran. He softly cupped the side of his face and ran his finger down his cheek and over his chin. Chuck slicked back his almost black hair.

“I’d love to play with him,” he hinted up at Davide, smirking deviously.

“I can tell. Save his ass and then maybe you can play with it..”

They laughed and Chuck finally pulled away. “Know what his bloodtype is?” He was heading towards a mini fridge, tucked away under the wooden stairs.

“Fuck if I know - just try O. It's your best bet - and fix him fast. I’ll be back later tonight to check on him.”

“Got it.”

Davide actually found himself feeling hesitant to leave the pair alone. Sometimes...Chuck can get carried away. He ‘plays’ a little too rough and takes it too far. As much as Davide likes to believe he calls the shots, nothing can stop Chuck when he acquires a fascination. It leads to him killing nearly half the people Davide brings him, whether that was the deal or not.

Kiran was supposed to bring his business back. He was a little shit, but Davide needed him. His life depended on him.
Chuck had retrieved a baggie of O blood and pulled an IV stand next to the table. Humming to himself, he strung the bag of blood up and ran a tiny tube from it, tapping any air bubbles free from the needle.

He bent down and hushed Kiran like he was a crying baby, inserting the needle into his inner elbow. He instantly went back into his own little world, gliding his finger across Kiran’s forehead and down the side of his face. He dragged his fingers down his neck, down his chest and stopped at the lining of his jeans.

He undid the button.

Davide turned his back and raised a finger up at God.

“Don’t you dare fuck me over,” he whispered at the ceiling and made his way back up to stairs, closing the door after him.

The last thing he needed was to be sent out on another manhunt.

-

A bright white light hung up on the ceiling and blurred Kiran’s vision even more.

He tried to blink until it was crystal clear but the foggy haze wouldn’t leave. His ears were ringing, the buzz quickly making his temples ache. He felt heavy and weighed down, like a ton of bricks had been dropped straight on top of him.

Sound was starting to blot back in as he slowly regained consciousness. What he heard confused him even more. Loud grunts accompanied by a rhythmic creaking.

Suddenly everything went dark and the scent of cologne mixed with a pungent odor invaded his nose. Kiran tried to speak but his throat burned. He groaned out softly and tensed when he felt a kiss touch his neck. He immediately flinched, lurching his arms and legs forward to push away whatever was touching him. They collapsed back down with a loud clank, the chains rattling loudly, getting Chuck’s attention, but he didn’t stop thrusting.

He gripped Kiran by the wrists and spread his legs further apart, going deeper. He pushed a kiss onto his mouth and hushed him.

“Shh, baby. You like that? Huh?”

Kiran still hadn’t grasped what was going on. He was exhausted and tired. His entire body felt numb. Chuck pressed himself flush against Kiran and pinned his arms down on the table.

“Tell me you like it - my little slut.”

“What...?” Kiran tried to get out. “What’s...?”

He gave up and looked around the room. Light reflected off of the mounted surgical instruments. His heart began to speed up. He stared at the IV pole. Along with the half-empty tote of blood was a baggie filled with a clear substance. Both had tubes running from them and his eyes followed them down to his arm.

Then focused on the naked man on top of him.

His brows knotted together in confusion as he stared up at his face. He couldn't make out any of his facial characteristics. He was too close, his forehead pressing against his. He was breathing heavily, chuckling little moans of pleasure.

Why is he…?

It all clicked.

Kiran jolted awake. His hands instantly tried to spring forward and push Chuck away but they remained chained to the surface.

“What are you -? Stop. Stop.”

Chuck went faster. The physical pain finally caught up with Kiran and he felt tears sting his eyes.

“Stop,” he cried out again, breathing ragged. His tried to hook his feet across the front of Chuck’s thighs, in hopes he’d be able to pry him off but Chuck plunged in deeper. Kiran wailed loudly. He wheezed, “Please - I'm so tired.” How did he end up here? Not but a few seconds ago was he in that old motel room. When did he get here?

Chuck never did answer him. He reached up to fiddle with the clear substance in the bag. He twisted a knob and returned his focus on Kiran, kissing his neck eagerly.

“Shh - just relax, baby boy. Relax.”

“I can't - no - stop. It hurts. Stop, please.” He started to feel nauseous and dizzy as the roofinol entered his veins. The room began to blur around him again, noise muffling in his ears.

One sound was still prevalent - Chuck groaning as he came.