Page 34 of Soul

Chapter Twelve

Daniel

The building isdark as I enter through a small window connected to the janitor’s closet. The window creaks and groans as I slither through. I can hear music and the sound of bare feet hitting the wooden floor when I open the door to the inside of the building. The stage. Even though it’s midnight, there’s still a crew here. Just as I suspected. Good news, I know for a fact that the dancer bitch is on that stage right now.

Weaving through the dark corners I scan the stage from my hidden location. Wearing all black, even my face is covered in a ski mask which helps make me invisible. I could be wearing bright pink and the ten or so people on the stage wouldn’t notice. They are so stuck on themselves and they’re dancing around like little, fucking fairies. Watching their muscles move and flex is exhilarating, but only because I can see the exhaustion there. They’ve been here since early morning. I’ve been watching Gillian’s old roommate Maria since she arrived. She hasn’t left this theatre. I’m unsure if the director asshole even brought food in. It makes me happy to think she’s been here all day, not a bit of food in her. Her suffering makes me happy.

My eyes zero in on the tall, raven-haired beauty. She is beautiful, anyone can see that. Her body is made for sin, and she flaunts it like the two-bit whore she is. Always wearing tight leggings and tank tops that her giant tits almost fall out of, or worse, the booty shorts she walks around Gillian’s apartment in, even when I was there. It was like she was showcasing her body to me in invitation. Stupid slut. Like I’d ever go for a dancer. A dancer is just a fancy name for a stripper. If that man clapping and pointing, the director or choreographer or whatever his stupid fucking title is, told her to take off her clothes and jump around in front of all these people, she’d do it. Just like a fucking stripper. She’s no better.

Sneaking back behind the stage door I walk along the long hallway unspotted. When I reach the end, there’s a door leading down into the belly of the old San Francisco Theatre. It should be a basement, a place they store things, but it’s not. It’s been turned into a workspace and Gillian’s seamstress, hippie friend works down here. She also arrived earlier today, but much later than dancer bitch. Around noon. Must be nice to work when you feel like it. I’ll give her credit, she has been here twelve hours. Though what she’s doing is completely idiotic. Making costumes. It’s a glorified way of saying she plays dress up or Barbie dolls but with real living people as her toys. And they eat this shit up. Pay her to make clothes. They could just as easily buy the shit on the Internet. Whatever.

Slowly, I make my way down the stairs and into a flurry of lights. Thank God I scoped this place out earlier. Within moments I’m behind one of the dressing screens. I move one of the slats barely open. There she is. Hunched over a garment, her back to me. The soft glow of the light above her head makes her blond hair shine. Classical music pumps through the room. Some piano concerto I’ve heard before and actually quite like. Her music tastes aside, I look around the room. There is one small window at ground level with the theatre.

This is going to be too easy. For on the other side of that window I’ve nailed in a wooden two by four on the top of the window and the bottom. They wedge perfectly to shorten the width. Making it too small for even a thin woman like her to get through.

With one last look, I sneak back to the door at the bottom of the stairs. She’s so focused on her work she doesn’t see or hear me shut the door. At the top of the stairs, I tip over the gasoline I brought then squirt the accelerant down the stairs like I’m getting ready to light up a charcoal barbecue. This is going to be one helluva cookout. Charred human flesh. I can already smell it. Reminds me of home, when I burned the bodies of my parents.

Once I’ve doused the space, I grab the other can I’ve hidden and walk along the hallway, leaving a trail of gas as I go. I’d be whistling right now at how happy this makes me. I can already feel my temperature heating up, preparing for the fire. My veins are pounding with adrenaline and I can’t wait to see this building go up in flames.

With ease I make it back stage where the dancers are still going at it. Some are sitting on the sides of the stage. Maria however is on her hands, legs up to the sky and in a wide V-shape. Two men come up and each lift her up by the thighs. It’s an erotic move and just proves how skanky she is. Letting two men hold her up like that. Their hands are so close to her snatch, their heads along her leg. They can probably smell that dirty cunt. I pity the men who have to get close to that whore.

Oh well, not for long. With as much control as I can muster I spill out the rest of the gasoline, open a fresh bottle of accelerant and stick a tissue in the top. A flick of my wrist and my Zippo lights. Same Zippo I used to light up my family and watch those fuckers burn. Now I’m going to do the same to Gillian’s bitch friends.

Over in the distance I can see Maria’s hired rent-a-cop and Kathleen’s walking along the back of the theater. Shit, he better not make it to her location before the fire does. With no time to waste I light up a hard piece of cardboard and toss it to the floor.

Instantly it turns a bright orange. Then I see it take flight, zipping and lighting along the line I walked down the back of the stage, straight to the costume bitch’s closet…or should I say grave.

I make my way easily to the janitor’s closet again, wedge the door shut with a broomstick, and drag myself back through the window. On quick feet, I jog to the building next door, climb up the fire escape and to my perch where I’ve left my binoculars. They are centered on the front of the building, with a clear line to the window, where I can still see Kathleen hard at work. Not for long.

Alarms instantly start flaring. Kathleen’s head comes up and she pushes on a remote control. Probably turning her music off. She stands and goes to the door. It must be hot to the touch because she pulls her hand back as if burned. Then she runs to the window and opens it. Smoke has already seeped into her space. Sweat beads up on the surface of my skin. My dick hardens painfully as I see her open the window and scream for help. No one comes. They can’t hear her over the blaring alarms.

Fuck. This is too good.

Right about now, I can see the dozen dancers rushing out the front of the old building and flying down the steps. Maria is there and she’s screaming and pointing at her bodyguard. The other bodyguard is rushing back into the building. Too late fucker. She’s going to be swathed in fire soon. You’ll never get to her. I laugh and watch as Maria tries to run back into the building. The guard holds her back. She kicks him and punches him the face. He gets her in some type of body lock, and I feel giddy for the first time in years. I wish I was closer and could hear what they’re saying, but at least I’ve got eyes on the show.

Swinging my binoculars back to Kathleen she’s moving away from the window. I feel as though I could jizz in my pants right now. She has an arm over her mouth, the smoke is getting really thick. She grabs some type of garment and goes back to the door. I can almost feel the intense heat along my own skin as the stupid fucking cunt does exactly what I hoped for!

Waiting with baited breath she holds the handle with the garment and turns, then pulls it open. A wall of fire slams into the side of her knocking her back and to the ground. I jump up and fist pump the air. Finally, I’ve taken one out! Once my girl gets word that her bitch is dead, she’ll come running back to town.

Just as I watch the smoke fill the room to the point where I can’t see Kathleen lying prone on the floor anymore, something blocks my vision. Backing up the visual I see that it’s Maria. She’s screaming into the window. She tries to push the front of her body in but can’t fit. I laugh and watch. Maria turns on her ass and kicks at the two by fours with her bare feet. Seriously bitch, that takes some balls. Then her fucking bodyguard pulls her away and kicks at the first then the second. The open window breaks widening the space as he removes one then the other two by four. Only the big asshole is too big to fit in there.

The smoke pouring out the window is black and angry, fitting my soul as I watch. Maria and the guy fight again. She pushes him away gets on her belly then presses into the hole. She screams out, the bottom of the window cutting the bare skin of her stomach up good, but she doesn’t stop. Soon she disappears into the hole. This could work out in my favor. Two for the price of one. She’s exhausted having worked the last sixteen hours. I can’t imagine she’d be strong enough to get her friend out.

I was wrong. After a few minutes I see the bodyguard take off his jacket and place it over the window seal then lean his arms into the hole. To my extreme displeasure he sits on the ground, wedges his feet on the sides of the window and lifts a limp body through it. Kathleen is pulled out and laid on the ground. Then I see Maria’s arms, which he gets a firm grip around, only she’s no longer moving. The bodyguard jerks and roars as he now hefts her body out of the window.

Some of the dancers have taken notice and are pointing and running down the back of the building. A couple firemen follow. One lifts up Kathleen’s limp body, I see that one of her arms is seared black all the way up to her neck and down her ribcage. Hopefully she’s dead from the burn or the smoke inhalation. She was in there a long, fucking time. Though Maria still isn’t moving, and the front of her belly is covered in blood. They are two dead weights in the firemen’s arms. Can it be too much to ask that my plan took out both of them? I’ll settle for one. As long as my princess hears about this, regardless of whether or not they are dead or alive, she’ll come running home. That is my ultimate reward.

Gillian

When the limo arrives at our new home in Bantry, Chase leads me by the hand along the walk way around our home. It’s lit up with swinging lanterns to guide us. When we hit the soft grass behind our home I see that a path has been made all the way to the edge of our property near the sea. The path is lit with more lanterns, and littered with white, pink, and red flower petals all the way to a small white tent.

“Wow,” I say as he leads me down the long flowered path to the tent. When we enter it’s much larger than I expected. At least a fifty-foot perfect square. On one side is a table for two set up with flickering candles in glass holders, flowers, and two metal, circular trays covering the plates. On the other side of the tent is a bed. An enormous cloud of pillows in rich burgundy, gold and white. Flower petals are floating along the coverlet. That’s not the most stunning part, no, that’s the open view of the ocean. The tent is closed on the three sides but the flaps of the fourth are pulled back to give an exotic one-eighty view of the ocean, midafternoon.

“Chase,” I gasp and he pulls me into his arms.

One hand holds me around the waist, the other cups my cheek. “Do you like it Mrs. Davis?” I can already tell he’s going to call me Mrs. Davis every chance he gets.

“I do, Mr. Davis. I can’t believe you planned all this. It’s…it’s incredible.” Chase gives me one of his best smiles. The sweet, lovable only-for-me kind. I pet his lips and then lean forward and kiss them briefly.

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