Lover Girl by Stephen Kronwith

Author:Stephen Kronwith
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stephen Kronwith

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They met at nine. Flint first gave them a rundown of the dramatis personae. Ferrari took notes.

“Again, the rich bitch’s name is Anna Franklin. Her wife’s name––”

“Wife?” Rocco interjected.

“Yeah, they’re a bunch of carpet-munchers. And both, smoking hot.”

The four men smiled, each enjoying a quick fantasy––thinking with their dicks, in quadraphonic contemplation.

“She’s a police detective, name’s Jane Rieger. Oh, excuuuse me, that’s Jane Rieger-Franklin.”

“A cop, eh,” said Flavio. “A slight complication, though that would make her well aware of what we’re capable of. Don’t see that as a problem, in the end. And the kid?”

“Her name is Felicity. Don’t know the name of the nanny, another bitch.” Flint went on to tell what little information he had about the Franklin home. Since the three fiends didn’t intend to enter, the layout indoors was superfluous. He mentioned the long driveway, lined by trees on both sides. No, he didn’t see any cameras––Flavio, during an early reminder call, had instructed him to look. The trees would turn out to be useful information, but for the most part, after his brief dissertation, the disgraced executive no longer served any purpose to the others. And they all realized he could easily turn on them for promises from the government. And that, they could not abide. “So,” he concluded. “We good? Good. Once you get the diamonds, that’ll square us and be one less thing for me to worry about. Maybe you could cut me in on the action, Triple-F?”

Jesus, thought Flavio, delusional to the end. The capo smiled. “Sure, Jimmy, why not?” and nodded to Rocco, who pulled out his suppressed pistol, put it to Flint’s head and fired. The man went down, and then Flavio himself took the gun and added another round, again to the head. A double-tap––the ritual of assassination. “All your fuckin’ worries are over now, my friend. No more action for you.”

They two soldiers picked up and carried the body to Jake’s van, which had earlier pulled into the garage. Ferrari would close the garage door from the inside, then leave by the front and drive home in his Mercedes. The underlings would drive the two hours to Jake’s family home in a shithole of a town called Simpson Mills, Orange County. He had grown up there and couldn’t leave fast enough. When his mother died, with the father having abandoned them at Jake’s birth, the house and the property on which it stood fell to him. It was on six acres and already had a few bodies buried beneath the barren earth, victims of Il Fucile’s crew for various offences. The two would dig a grave and the ex-CEO would join the others for eternity, once rich and handsome, now a victim of his demons. A man who had the world by the balls; now mere food for the worms and whatever creatures lay below the surface.

And then, these two creatures who lived above would return to Brooklyn and plan. No question any longer––they were committed.

And soon, a loving family would be smothered in darkness.

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