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Sunday, August 16, 2015

77 Born to Make the Kill

With this vivid memory seared into her mind, she couldn’t escape the knowledge that even then she had used sex as a tool for gain. If that wasn’t a hooker … it was no different than any starlet on the director’s couch. Natalie had even teased herself with the thought that a onetime dalliance with her agent might be worth it. But she couldn’t give Tony the satisfaction of admitting he was right.

“I guess I have a narrower view of a prostitute,” she said. “I think of a hooker like you’ve described your mother, getting paid for sex.”

“You leave my ma out of this,” he said, as they reached the coral.

“I didn’t bring her up, you threw her out there,” Natalie continued and stepped close to the fire. Its hot breath warmed her black leather boots. She kept her back toward Tony and Rudy, and stared into the orange glow at her feet for strength.

They stopped behind her

“Sit down,” Tony shouted and by the scrape of feet in the dirt she sensed Tony had pushed Rudy. “Well now that she’s out there, Ma does make a fine comparison.”

She kept her eyes on the fire and stepped around behind it to place a subtle barrier between them.

“Why’s that?” Natalie said, and the sarcasm spirited across the distance between her and Tony like a heat seeking missile.

“Hell, by Ma’s standards, you are a whore.”

“How do you figure?” Natalie’s eyes drifted to Tony’s hand. He slipped the gun under his waistband, pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and lifted a smoke to his lips.

“Well, what’s your definition of a whore?”

“Like I said, someone who gets paid for sex.”

“Damn, this may be a first. I agree.”

“But I’ve never had sex for money.”

“Of course you have,” he shouted, “and I have the video to prove it.”

“Do you mean sex with Rudy? Not only was that under false pretenses, but as I recall, I never got paid for it, unless the payment was all your abuse.”



Tony glared at her. In just a few steps he could have grabbed her, thrown her frail ass into the fire and held her there with one foot while she burned to death—but not now. Fate alone would evidence who took the next last breath.

He stepped toward her. She held her ground. At the fire, he bent at the knees and took hold of the unlit end of a burning stick. He raised it to light the cigarette and drew a long deep breath. In a sudden convulsive fit he coughed rattling, raspy phlegm from his lungs and then spit it into the fire. The sputum hissed in protest like an angry viper as it shriveled in the blaze. He stood and cleared his throat. Their glares were eighteen inches apart. With the flaming stick held between their faces he could see the fire dance in the gold flecks in her smoke-colored hate-filled eyes. He took the cigarette from his lips and forced a stream of smoke out of his lungs toward her face.

“Doesn’t matter.” he said. “Why did you spread your legs for Rudy? Why did you allow yourself to become his fantasy?”



The light of the fire revealed the evil in his eyes and she shrugged off the quake of fear that threatened to roll up her back, and converted it to her storehouse of rage.

“I had no idea I was his fantasy. I thought I was doing a screen test.”

“That’s right,” he said, “a screen test for who?”

“For Ansell Parker but you made all that up. Ansell doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

He dropped the burning stick into the fire, put the cigarette back into his mouth and reached across the flames. He grabbed the lapels of her jacket and pulled her torso slowly over the center of the fire pit. “But you didn’t know that when you consented to have sex with him on tape.”

She starred into the face of her oppressor. His evil eyes flickered with more than the light of the flames. Out of his dark sockets, the fires of Hell emanated as if they were contained in his soul. His lips were only inches from hers and his scorching saliva spattered against her bruised cheeks as he spit his accusation into her face.

“Take your hands off me,” she demanded and her voice, not obstructed by fear, reflected the fury in her chest.

“So, let’s see what we’ve learned,” he continued and pulled her closer in defiance. Then, with a sudden shove backwards, he released her.

She had to take a step back to catch her balance but without hesitation, she moved again to the edge of the fire and didn’t give him any ground.

“You thought you were going to have sex with an actor so you could look good for Ansell. Your plan was to ultimately get paid for screwing Rudy by getting hired in a leading role on an upcoming movie. Getting paid for sex,” he paused like a lawyer who just caught the witness in a lie. “Isn’t that what you said?”

“You’ve twisted this all around.” Her own words, the ones she had come to dread, echoed in her memory once again and the image from the loathsome glare of the farm girl reflected in the mirror in her apartment fell across her eyes as if Amy stood in the midst of the fire—Whatever it damn well takes. Now, she was being forced by this con man, this murderer, this psychopath to realize somehow he was right. He got her to prostitute herself.

Tony took a long last drag from the cigarette and dropped the stub into the fire.

“Is that so? By your own definition, you are a whore. So own the title, you’ve earned it.”

She saw Tony’s eyes smolder as he continued to glare at her across the fire. A sinister smirk she recognized spread over his acne scarred face and he began to force a wicked guttural laugh out of his mouth. She could see he knew he had won the debate. Although she would never admit it to him, she recognized it too. He was right, she had done it all to self-promote, to compromise her body to get ahead. She wondered if her move to LA had really been to pursue her passion for acting or just to assuage a driving need to overcome an insecurity she knew had chased her through life—an obsession for recognition.



Tony felt exhilarated. He read the naked truth revealed on her face. She’s no better than Ma. It was more satisfying than any sexual climax he had ever experienced. She had been willing, and now she had become Ma. She was worthy.

“What’s the matter,” he chided, “cat got your tongue?”



Over the last three days, Tony’s gun had been the phallic symbol of power. Tony had used it in the warehouse to elicit her submission to assault, and threatened her into compliance with it again and again. Natalie had seized the authority for a moment and used it to subdue Hank, but Tony didn’t need it now. His words were enough.

She shifted her eyes and realized the tide could change again in the next moment. The brown composite pistol butt lay exposed and unchallenged just above his belt. She grabbed for it.
_____
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