Page 13 of Triplets for the Russian Boss

Kostin

Agood night for me is a bad night for everyone else. I thrive on other people’s misfortune and, more often than not, I’m the cause of it. I revel in twisting the knife, inflicting the pain before severing my victim’s connection to the living world. Unfortunately, I had to kill Jerry quickly, otherwise I would’ve enjoyed myself more in the process. Now, all I have is a mess to clean and a witness donned in lace.

“You know how to drive, right?” I ask, as I open the door to the driver’s side of my car.

“Of course,” Bubbles replies.

“Great! Then you’re going to be my chauffeur tonight. Consider it a treat from me to you. Not everyone gets to drive a car this nice.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she asks, sounding completely out of breath.

“I’m saying that I want you to drive us. I’ve had too much to drink and I need to make a phone call.”

“I hope it’s to the police,” she grumbles, slipping into the driver’s seat, still donning that lovely lingerie she’s been wearing all night. It looks so good that I could fuck her with it still on.

“Let me take care of the details. You just drive,” I reply, closing the door and circling around to the other side.

I slip into the tan leather seat beside Bubbles, pulling the keys from my pocket. “Here. Don’t take it over forty, and we’ll be just fine.”

“This is fucking nuts,” Bubbles says, taking the keys and shaking her head as she puts them into the ignition. For all the complaining, I’m not getting much resistance from her. Maybe she’s just happy to get out of the club, and away from Jerry’s corpse.

Regular people don’t react very well with death. They’re so far removed from the reality of human existence that they freak out when they come face to face with something that we must all deal with, sooner or later. For Jerry, it was just sooner rather than later.

I put on my seatbelt, like a good, law-abiding citizen, signaling for Bubbles to do the same. I’d be pissed if we got pulled over for something as silly as that. You should only commit one crime at a time and make it a big one. That way you maximize the benefits, while minimizing risks.

“Take these,” Bubbles says, tossing her light-up plastic heels into my lap.

They hit me right in the balls, but I suspect she intended for that to happen. I pretend I don’t feel the pain, biting the inside of my cheek as I toss them over my shoulder into the back seat.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Bubbles asks, pulling the car out of the poorly-marked spots outside of the club.

I lean forward, trying to make out the parking lot exit. It’s late enough into the night that the sky is a pitch black, but there isn’t a single fucking light outside this cheap club, aside from the blinking fuchsia sign by the front door. I’ll need to fix this place up, if I’m going to run a legitimate business out of it.

But I doubt I will. I’d much rather launder money through it and keep it on the down-low. There’s no need to raise suspicion, or get extra attention, by fixing it up. As far as anyone knows, Jerry sold it to me and fled the country.

Maybe he had a warrant. Who am I to say?

“Hello?!” Bubbles shouts, leaning toward me with her eyes open wide.

I sigh, pointing toward the parking lot exit. “Over there. Just pull out onto the street and I’ll give you directions.”

She angrily shifts the car into gear and speeds toward the exit, grumbling something about killing people. She’s gotten pretty worked up, since I killed her manager, but that’s alright. I’m sure she’ll get over it once, she realizes that she has bigger problems.

For one, she’s with me, and I’m a dangerous man. It’s going to be cute watching her discover that. She won’t know how to act until I’ve twisted her world into a nightmare, and then it’ll be too late. I’ve already decided that she can’t be left alone. I will have to claim her from the club and keep her with me.

“You definitely don’t need to drive so aggressively,” I say, as she takes a sharp turn, almost scraping the front bumper against a parked car.

“I’ll drive however I damn well please,” she snaps.

I chuckle. “Bubbles, you’re not going to bring Jerry back to life by turning us into roadkill. You need to calm down.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down,” she says, holding up her pointer finger as we stop at the exit. “You fucking killed someone, and I don’t even know why I’m out here driving with you, but this seems like a supremely stupid idea.”

“Turn left here,” I reply, ignoring her increasing hysteria.

“Are you listening to me?” she asks, taking her hands off the wheel.

I yank my pistol from my pocket, waving it around in the air. “You’d better fucking turn left.”

---