Vicious Pt. 02

You should read the first part of this story, Vicious, before this part.

I had promised Phil that I would come out West as soon as I could wrap up my divorce and give my testimony in Dot's trial for the theft of Miss Kitty's antiques. It took longer than I had anticipated.

The lawyers had warned me that the information that my less than scrupulous PI, Max, had collected could not be used by the DA, since it was almost all illegally obtained. Consequently, I suffered my first setback in my revenge. The Asshole, Gene, claimed that he had believed that the furniture belonged to Dot, since that's what she had told him. I knew this was untrue, from the recorded conversations that Max had obtained but which couldn't be used in court. Dot's current husband claimed that the replacement furniture he'd had made was a gesture to me for falling in love with my wife and stealing her away from me. Without any proof to the contrary, that bullshit was accepted by the DA at face value. The fact that the Asshole's family was a big contributor to the DA's election campaign was just coincidental.

Even Dot's testimony that her second husband had been aware of the correct ownership was rejected by the DA. Dot's statement was actually false, in that both she and Asshole believed at the time that I owned the furniture, not aware that the house and its content belonged to a trust of which Dot hadn't been aware. The DA felt that Dot's marital status at the time precluded her testimony against her husband.

Dot's public defender had recommended Dot testify against her husband, since her marriage was going to be effectively wiped out. Dot had been informed that the Asshole had applied for an annulment, claiming Dot had committed fraud leading to their marriage by involving him in her theft while claiming ownership of the property. Dot was incensed, especially since her money from our divorce had been used by Asshole to fund their lifestyle and he was leaving her penniless while facing criminal charges. Her original high-power lawyers, who had been hired by Asshole on the strength of his upcoming trust payments, abandoned Dot as soon as they began working on the annulment. She had to be represented by her public defender.

With friend Dan in my ear and Miss Kitty in my heart, I decided to be satisfied with the vengeance I'd already accomplished vis-à-vis the Asshole. I'd taken his familial home by first buying and then calling in the loan that had been taken to continue funding the lifestyle Dot expected. The loan had become necessary when Asshole's reputation had been ruined once sex videos of him, some with my then wife and some with other people, of both sexes, began appearing on the internet. That caused his relatives to fire him from his corporate director position in the family business. Each of the major family members held a similar paid directorship. The outrageous salaries these positions paid allowed them to skirt the restrictions limiting the money each member got yearly from the trust.

Without his generous salary, his cashflow dried up. Desperate, he'd taken out a dangerous callable loan on his family mansion. I had arranged for Dot's husband's available cash to disappear by investing in stocks the Asshole was shorting, causing a margin call on his accounts to cover his losses. Having no cash caused him to miss his second loan payment, triggering the callable clause in his loan. He had expected no problems as the bank was friendly with his family and would surely allow him a grace period. He hadn't known that I had purchased the loan.

Then Asshole made his biggest mistake, one that would permanently alienate his family. He hid the loan and the foreclosure from his family, who could have funded the repayment of the loan to retain their familial home in the family. By the time his family learned of the situation, it was too late. I had acquired the property for a fraction of its value. Later, I was happy to sell it back to the family, at a small premium of a million over its appraised value. The Asshole would never be welcomed back into his family. I was happy with that outcome. It was enough vengeance.

Max was keeping track of Dot's group of friends for me and reported back that all but one of the couples had divorced after their STD's highlighted their infidelities. The remaining couple, Rick and Michelle now hated each other, but were staying together because they feared the alternative. They both were now HIV positive and found it difficult to believe that they would find lovers who were willing to overlook their infections, even if the condition was now treatable with drugs. Unwilling to face a celibate future, they decided to remain together solely for the sex. By all accounts, theirs was now rough and hateful sex. I didn't think any of my "friends" were worth a second thought beyond that.

Dot's case took six months to come to trial, but then it proceeded quickly to its conclusion. Her claims that, first, I'd given her the furniture fell flat when she couldn't give a compelling answer as to why she had felt it necessary to replace the furniture with replicates and why it had been necessary to make the replacements surreptitiously. And secondly, she maintained that she was only storing the furniture to protect it from damage. The jury openly laughed at that testimony. She was sentenced to the expected three years, eligible for parole after 18 months.

She was not happy when the judge delivered the sentence. I was tempted to frame the picture a photographer in the courtroom snapped of her as the verdict sank in. The expression on her face made it all worthwhile. Instead, I had a collage made up with that picture of her face in the center, surrounded by pictures of her in various sexual positions clipped from Max's videos. Miss Kitty wouldn't have approved, but I couldn't resist sending it to all my former wife's contacts, including her family, her minister and the boards of the charities she had used to cover for her affair with the Asshole. It was petty and Dan and Miss Kitty wouldn't have approved, but it really felt so good I couldn't resist.

I visited Dot while she was awaiting transfer to the penitentiary to personally deliver that gift. Orange wasn't Dot's color. The prison garb combined with her lack of makeup brought out the sallowness of her complexion and the shallowness of her soul.

"Oh, Ryan," she sobbed, tears running down her face when she saw me. "I've made so many mistakes, but I know you still love me. Help me, please. I know we can be happy together." She put her hand on the glass between us, and actually batted her eyes at me. "Please forgive me. Gene took advantage of me, and I didn't know what I was doing. I was so confused."

I smiled back. "Miss Kitty would tell me to forgive you, so I do. But we can't be together. I realize that Lumphead is just not in your class, and you could never be happy with him." She gasped at my use of the nickname she wasn't aware that I knew. "I bear you no ill will. I've even made you a memento of our time together."

With that statement, I pulled the collage up where she could see it. She gasped again as she took in the pornographic nature of the pictures. "I'll send this to you so you can put it up in your cell. I've also had my friend Max identify all the women in your cellblock who might be interested in a copy. I'll make sure they all get one of their own."

As I hung up the phone, I could see Dot still yelling, "NO! NO! NO!" as the guard approached her from behind. I smiled as I left. Sorry Miss Kitty. This felt so good.

It took me another three weeks to close my affairs as I prepared to leave for the West Coast. I quit my job and had the trust sell the house and its contents. I kept a few pieces that reminded me of Miss Kitty: the table where she taught me to read, the chairs we'd sit in of an evening when she'd counsel me on life and paying it forward, and a few other knickknacks she particularly treasured. Beyond that, I didn't ever intend to come back to this town. I was done, I thought.

Dan and I had planned a farewell dinner at one of the best restaurants in town. While it would be sad to part with one of my only friends, we'd still be in touch with the work of the trust, paying forward. But the look on Dan's face when he came to the restaurant expressed a deep worry and concern. "Gene Blanchard has been offering a reward for any information about the videos you had posted on the net." Dan shook his head. "You know Max has no loyalty or honor. It won't take long for him to decide to collect the reward."

"I'll give him more to keep quiet. It's an easy fix." I smiled to calm Dan. He just looked at me sadly.

"You're too good a person, Ryan. How did your childhood not teach you that guys like Max will take your money and then still take the reward from Blanchard?"

"Well, Max can't rat out me without implicating himself. There's no proof that I knew how he obtained the videos or that I ordered him to break the law. I never did. I only asked him to obtain information. There's no way that even the DA in the Blanchard family's pocket can make that stick. And his family will never allow that laundry to be resurrected for public viewing in a civil trial." I was still sanguine about my chances.

Dan shook his head again, saying "I don't think Blanchard will take legal steps against you. He will look for something more immediate and personal."

I acknowledged that likelihood and promised to watch my back. But a pall fell over our farewell dinner, now destroyed by Dan's news. We ate in almost complete silence, embraced after the meal, and went our separate ways.

Five days later I was in San Francisco and had moved into the house I'd bought on the side of Telegraph Hill. The Cherry Headed Conures that inhabit the hill made my decision for me. The red and green parrots were originally from Peru but had found a niche to fill on the Hill when two escaped their captivity in the 1990s. They convinced me that even a bear like me could find a home on Telegraph Hill.

I locked my front door and strolled down to Powell Street and followed it the mile or so down to Chinatown. I enjoyed the sights of the City. I'd heard about the homeless people and the feces on the sidewalks but saw none of that. Just the sights and sounds of a vibrant city. I thought I could be happy here.

I was scheduled to meet Phil and his fiancé at the Dragon's Gate at Bush and Grant. As I turned the corner, there was Phil in front of me. I smiled and looked at the girl by his side, and my heart stopped.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't close my mouth. I couldn't think. I fell into the eyes of this diminutive, beautiful Chinese girl. As I remembered to breathe, I saw a look of terror cross her face. And felt the crowbar hit my head. I heard Phil yell and the girl scream as my head took another blow. Then, there was nothing.

I woke up in a panic. There were multiple beeping sounds, and I couldn't move, and could see a tube coming out of my sore throat. My legs were elevated and encased in casts, as was my left arm. A nurse came in, saw me looking at her and said, as she pressed a button by my bed, "Welcome back. Don't worry. The doctor will be here in a minute." She smiled. I didn't see anything to smile about.

I was unconscious again when the doctor got there. I woke up again later, but once again was back asleep before the doctor arrived. I was finally still awake the third time. The doctor seemed a little put out that he had to be summoned a third time. I really didn't think that it was fair for him to hold that against me.

I had been savagely attacked by the Dragon's Gate, by four thugs armed with crowbars. I had a cracked skull in two locations, a broken left eye socket and a broken jaw. That was just my head. They'd worked over both legs, my torso, and my left arm. I'd fallen on my right arm, so it ended up relatively undamaged. I'd been in a coma for three months while they'd managed the swelling in my brain. They were going to take me off the ventilator later that day. My jaw, face, and ribs had healed while I was asleep, but my arm and legs had been operated on twice before the doctors were happy with the bone alignment. Those casts were still on.

When I woke up the following day, there was Phil, with a scar down the left side of his face that hadn't been there before. I later learned his left femur had also been shattered. The police had interviewed me when I awoke and had told me Phil had attempted to save me but was quickly taken out by one of the four assailants. I was touched. Phil wasn't a fighter by any means. I just realized he was incredibly brave. Later he would correct me. "Incredibly stupid," he said, laughing.

The police seemed disappointed that I could add nothing to Phil's account. "I showed up and got whacked from behind." I told them. "I didn't see anything." They told me that this sort of brutality was rare, especially in broad daylight. They promised to keep me abreast of the investigation and had left.

The Chinese girl stood at Phil's side. Whatever had possessed me when I had seen her at the Dragon's Gate was now gone. Knocked out of me by a crowbar, I guessed. She was beautiful, but I couldn't see what had attracted me.

"This is Terry, my fiancé", Phil beamed as he presented her. I congratulated him on his luck. And apologized to Terry for the damage done to Phil. I felt it was my fault.

"But you did nothing. It wasn't your fault." Terry smiled at me, but clasped Phil's hand in both of hers, possessively and maybe a little bit protectively.

Phil looked closely at me. "You think this has to do with events back home, yeah?" I nodded. I'd been giving it a lot of thought since I had awakened. My thoughts were still scrambled, but it seemed obvious. I was front page news in San Francisco. This attack was far from common in the City. I must have been targeted.

Our visit was cut short by my eyes closing. When I woke again, Phil was gone by Terry was sitting by my bed. I looked at her and fell into her eyes again.

It seemed like every machine I was hooked to started beeping. Nurses came in, in a panic, chasing Terry into the hallway. My heart stopped, I thought, but they said my blood pressure was spiking at an alarming level. I started to breathe again as I faded into sleep.

Terry was still there when I woke. "Are you okay," she asked hesitantly.

My heart flipped and flipped again. Her eyes were my whole world, but I managed to respond. "I'm fine."

We stared at each other for what seemed like an hour. It might have been a moment. Or an hour. I still can't say. I smiled at her and fell asleep again.

I awoke in the night and realized I was in love with Phil's fiancé. What did the Sicilians call it in the Godfather? Being hit by a thunderbolt? Or was it a crowbar. I wanted to cry. I know, what a wuss. But my best friend, almost my only friend's girl. "Fuck." I thought. Then "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck......" It was a long night. I wanted to sleep, but could only repeat, "Fuck." My mind wouldn't stop thinking about the girl, about Phil, and about all the things of which I couldn't dare to even dream. I finally dozed off as the sun came up.

When I awoke, Terry was back. She smiled at me and told me that Phil had asked her to keep me company. I was about to ask her to leave. I didn't think I could handle my feelings for her especially if she was going to hover at my bedside. But when I looked at her, there was nothing. Just a beautiful girl, my friend's girl. My heart kept beating and my blood pressure stayed calm.

I decided that my brain was scrambled, which explained my flip-flopping reactions to Terry. My memory tickled me with "But the first time was before I was hit!" But then how trustworthy were my scrambled memories? I'd have to ask the doctor about this.

Terry stayed for a couple of hours, telling me about her and Phil. I told her about being college roommates and then sharing my home before my marriage. I felt very comfortable with Terry and thought again that Phil was one lucky fellow. Even I found Terry easy to talk with.

The next day I woke to find Terry standing by my bed and it happened again. She consumed my being. I felt my heart and soul reaching out to embrace her. I sobbed at the pain this could cause Phil.

"Please leave. Please leave." I sobbed. I couldn't help it. I felt like I was ripping out my heart. "I can't have you here."

Terry stared at me. Then as her eyes welled with tears, she turned and ran from the room.

"What the hell, Ryan!" I heard Phil yell at me. I looked up to see him standing on the other side of my bed. Looking shocked.

As did Terry, who stood at his side, clasping his hand.

I looked at him confused. My brains were still scrambled.

"Why are you mad at my sister?" Terry asked. She turned and ran from the room to find and comfort her.... Sister?

"Sister?" I asked Phil, who was looking decidedly angry at me.

"Sister!" I said again, positively. I was smiling. My heart was flip-flopping again.

"Twins," Phil said. "What the hell are you smiling about? You hurt Linda; you know."

"Linda," I rolled the name in my mouth. "LINDA," I almost shouted. "Phil, bring her back. Jesus, I thought I was falling in love with your girl, and it hurt too much...."

"Love?" I heard from the doorway. I looked up to see the twins there, side by side for the first time. Identical except for the tears flowing from Linda's eyes.

"Love," I said. "I know that sounds stupid, being that we've hardly met, but when I saw you at the Dragon's Gate, my heart stopped, and...." I suddenly felt a new panic rise up from my soul:

"THAT WAS YOU AT THE DRAGON'S GATE? Wasn't it?"

Linda ran over and grasped my right hand. "That was me! It was!"

"Then I woke to find you here and my blood pressure spiked. But then the next time, I didn't feel anything. I thought it was just my scrambled brain. Sometimes I couldn't breathe for the love of you and other times, I just saw Phil's fiancé. No reaction."

I sighed. "Then last night I realized that I was in love with you or rather the Terry I thought you were. I couldn't do that to Phil. I'd decided to leave San Francisco as quickly as possible and to stay away. When I saw you this morning, it broke my heart to think of not being with you, and I needed you to leave. I don't know how, but I love you."

Linda sat by my bed, holding my hand, and smiled. I couldn't talk anymore. I was happy.

Terry couldn't believe that I could tell them apart. No one had ever been able to do that, not even Phil. Linda though had no trouble believing it. She said it was the power of love. But it became a game with Terry. They each show up individually and I had to say who they were. Terry even had Linda wear her engagement ring to try to fool me.

I never missed. My heart always let me know when Linda was there.

By the time I had recovered enough to leave the hospital, Linda and I had shared all our histories and dreams with each other. I'd told her things I'd held back from Dot, all about my childhood, Miss Kitty and the trust, and about my viciousness. I told her of biting off noses and ears, slashing faces with knives to keep the predators away, and all the other sordid details of my life. I told her about my vengeance against Dot and Asshole and all our other friends.

I saw a reflection of Miss Kitty in Linda's eye. I saw her horror at my upbringing and my actions, her disapproval of my vengeance as an adult. I saw her understanding of my loneliness and the lack of connection I had with people other than Phil and Dan. And of course, Miss Kitty.

Most of all, what I saw in her eyes was love. I wondered how I ever thought that Dot loved me. This was all consuming.

When I was finally released from the hospital, I still had three cast and battered kidneys. I needed help just to pee. I arranged for round the clock nursing, but Linda still insisted on moving into my house and tending to me. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have your love give you a sponge bath, cleaning your genitals and placing your penis in the male urinal container when you need to pee? It's even more mortifying when it's before your first date. Luckily, I was able to wait for the regular nurses before using the bedpan. I don't think I could handle Linda wiping me.