From the home security camera in the corner of the kitchen, “A dash of salt, pinch of pepper, and cover the pot. He loves this sauce. It takes forever to make. But, boy does he go nuts for it,” says Charlie with a self-satisfied smile.
“What’s the occasion?” asks his mother through the propped up tablet on the counter.
Blushing, “Tuesday! I just felt like he deserved something special. He’s been so stressed at work lately. And a Bolognese from scratch always makes him feel better. That, and a blow job,” he finishes with a cheeky smile.
“Oh Charlie!” she laughs, “I don’t need those details.”
“Ok, true, TMI,” he chuckles
“TMI? What’s that sweetie?”
“Too Many Insertions,” he smiles.
“Huh?” she asks utterly confused.
“Just kidding. It means ‘Too Much Information’,” he says looking at her confused face on the screen.
His mom laughs, “Oh, right I knew that. Well yes, that was ‘Too Much Information’. What does Tom do again?”
“He likes to joke that he’s an Arms dealer. But, he’s actually the head trainer at this gym for rich people. His client list is extremely exclusive, like he signs NDA’s with some of them. I’m not even supposed to know who they are,” Charlie says swirling his chardonnay.
“Well do you know any of them?”
He finishes his sip, “Mmh Hmm. But, mums the word Mommy dearest,” he says in a deplorable British accent. “I can’t tell.”
“Oh, OK,” she says with an audible pout.
“SOoooO anyway. How’s Dad doing with his…”

“You tell your boyfriend you’re an arms dealer as a joke? And that you have exclusive clients as a trainer? Well, I guess that part is true,” a man says from behind Tom as the live stream continues on the screen in front of them. “But who did you tell him your clients were. Let me guess Huge Jackedman! Or no Marky Mark!” The man cackles at his own jokes.
Tom wrestles with his restraints. Muffle by the bandana in his mouth, “Don’t you fucking hurt him!!” rage and fear visible from his eyes to his feet.
“Oh, it’s too late for that. You knew what you had to do to keep lover boy safe. It was simple you hand over your business to the Francona’s and you could’ve walked away fine and Dandy. But, what do you do!? You undercut us for the biggest deal in town. I mean I don’t even know how you were able to fill that order for so little, I mean where did you even get the guns? Did you actually steal them from the Cartel?” the man exhales dramatically. “I guess it doesn’t really matter. Cuz rumor is you did, and the Cartel is our friend.”
Tom’s head jerks back as his chair is tipped back. The man rubs his beard on Tom’s then whispers seductively into Tom’s left ear, “You pissed off the wrong groups of friends.”
Slamming to the ground the front two legs hit the floor. In Tom’s right ear he whispers, “And now,” glass breaks on screen, Charlie’s head snaps back with a hole the size of a nickel in his forehead, “this happens.”
Ropes dig into his skin as Tom fights to break free, “NOOOOOOOooooooooo,” he yells through his gag. A thud and clang echo in the warehouse as his struggles land him on his side, eyes fixed on Charlie’s lifeless body on the floor. The screams of Charlie’s mother are drowned out by Tom’s.
The man pulls Tom up, “This could have been avoided. But no, you had to make this the outcome. And cuz I’m a nice guy, I won’t make you watch for long.”
Weeping Tom’s struggle ends when he feels a cold circle on his temple. The man waits watching Tom shudder, “This could’ve been different. But you know I have to kill you too. We can’t have you trying to pull some John Wick, Punisher type shit,” he pulls the trigger.

Published by Danton Lamar

I grew up in a country that thinks it is better than it is and left because I wanted to know if the rest of the world was as crazy. These are the writings of a man trying to stay sane I'll post a story or poem every Wednesday

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