Fatboy by Paul Heatley

Author:Paul Heatley [Heatley, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: All Due Respect, an imprint of Down & Out Books
Published: 2018-01-02T11:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Adam sat slumped with his back against the wall. They didn’t try to get him up onto the bed or a chair. They didn’t try to dress him. The bottom of his stomach folded into his lap and covered his shriveled dick. He looked sorry for himself, with a piece of tape across his mouth and his hands bound in his lap and the world’s crudest splint strapped to his right leg. The tape was tight around his wrists, his fingers purple.

His head lolled on his shoulders. The cut on his eyebrow had scabbed and the blood on his face had dried. Looked like red raindrops where it had fallen onto his chest.

Joey and Lynne watched him from the doorway. Joey hadn’t bothered putting the mask back on. Adam had seen his face, no point now.

“Nothing’s changed,” Joey said.

“He knows it’s us.”

“Doesn’t make a difference. Once this is over we’re in the wind.”

“But he knows.”

They spoke in whispers. Adam looked barely conscious, but Joey had been fooled once already. “Then that’s all the more reason to go through with it, ain’t it? There’s no turning back now. This ain’t the kind of thing you can apologize for and expect everything’ll be all right.”

Lynne watched Adam and chewed her lip. She wore denim shorts and a black vest top. The vest didn’t cover the splashed blood on her chest. There was some on her neck, too.

“You shoulda worn more clothes,” Joey said. “You shoulda worn jeans.”

“I didn’t think I was gonna have to do anythin!”

Joey put a hand on her shoulder. “There’s no going back now,” he said. “This is a mess, I know. A real clusterfuck. But trust me, the way out is through. It’s the only way.”

Lynne looked at him. She said nothing.

Joey pulled the gun from his waistband and crossed the room to Adam, crouched down in front of him, snapped his fingers in front of Adam’s face. Fatboy opened his eyes, raised his head. Sweat beaded on his brow and a drop ran down his cheek.

Joey looked at the splint. Blood had seeped through the pillow case, but it was dry and dark and he figured the worst of it had stopped. “Look at that,” he said. “I shoulda been a doctor.”

Adam’s eyes were blank. Joey imagined he was in a lot of pain.

“Bet it hurts like a motherfucker, right? Listen up. This ain’t how it was supposed to go down. The way I planned it, sure you mighta still got that bump on your head, but you woulda been able to walk outta here in the morning. I’m not gonna say I’m sorry about your leg because I’m not. I don’t give a shit. You need to understand that we ain’t scared to do worse than this, you get me? I ain’t afraid to take this gun and blow your fucking brains out.” He pressed the barrel of the gun into Adam’s forehead to drill his point home. Adam whimpered. Joey took the gun away. “Am I clear? Let me know you’re listening to me.

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