DC Suburbs -- Part 9
by Martin H Slusser

“What the hell do you think you're doing?”

The sound of Connel's thin, quavering voice splitting the night air and interrupted his laundry Benny's smile withered to jaw sagging shock.

Benny's head snapped up. A .38 Banker's Special poked with caution out of the only lighted window on the back of the house. Nina's window. Benny snarled up at it. He cursed himself and the tempting blue of the water.

Lights flooded the estate. Faint and urgent, an alarm clanged somewhere. Men shouted and cursed, dogs yapped in hysterical anger. All headed for the back forty of the estate. Benny sagged. He glared from the pool to the ugly glee on Connel's face.

Looks like a life in chains. Or a collar. Not much of a choice, but then, when did he ever have a choice? Yo, life's bitch and then you die.

It's what you do with the time between, Grandson, a voice whispered in stern tone from the back of his head, That makes life worth living. The land, Children, Good horses and a woman who knows when to shut up and can cook, too. Do us all up here a favor, kid, and get your skinny ass out of there.

“Truer words never spoken, Grampa,” Benny said through bare teeth. What the hell did he have to lose, anyway? His life? Better dead than a royal stud in the VanTur stables. Piss on the Project. Benny scurried to snatch up his things. “Besse mi huevos, you faggots,” Benny hollered.

Heart pounding in his ears, Benny whooped. He darted for the wall and tossed his things over it.

At the foot of the wall the thing cursed and raved. Two Swords cocked his head. 'Heart whispered a mocking war cry. It screeched and fled from those ungentle eye sockets.

Benny jumped, snatched at the top. He pulled himself to freedom. A shot cracked. The bullet snapped into the wall, spraying him with shards of stone and hot lead.

A second bullet plowed at him, vicious in its mindless pursuit of body heat. It smashed into the wall, then cracked him hard on the elbow.

Benny dangled by one arm, then fell in a heavy slump to the ground, at the mercy of Connel-the-Hero and his Special. Crawling to his feet, he could hear a woman's voice squealing in excitement.

“Shoot him. Shoot him before he gets away, Congressman.”

Benny held his arm. He threw the lady rent-a-cop a cocky grin and looked up to see Nina hanging out the window.

A smile flickered at her. Nina might be tiny, but her very enchanting important parts, ah, moved real nice. Something to remember during his next sixty years as Ward of the State, Cindy VanTur’s ward.

Benny's reaction was instant, perfectly natural, and somewhat embarrassing. To him. Nina paused in wide-eyed admiration, he noted. Benny grinned and waved.

Nina blushed. Her tongue flicked over kiss swollen, inviting lips. A pretty blush stole up her face, down, over the flawless breasts. Nina began to fan herself.

“My, but it is hot in here, isn’t it.”

Connel gave her a sour look.

Preening just a little, Benny leaned against the cool, sweating stone of the wall. He threw the guards an arrogant stare, waiting to see which of the creeps had the guts to try and nab him first. Go out with a blaze of glory. Take a couple with you. Die with your teeth in the devil's throat.

Would it be the creeps, or, urk, Connel-the-Hero?

Hot, electric agony shuddered from his elbow. If it ain't bleeding, it ain't worth bothering about. Benny smiled at them all, cold and hungry. He watched fear-sweat glitter a man's face and saw the greed in Connel's eyes. Even from this distance it stank. Benny opened his mind. Connel’s heart was rattling in his chest.

“I kill him . . . See it in the papers, Congressman McNary strikes down dangerous criminal . . . . God, but all the votes I'll get. Don't try to stop me again. Hear, Nina? Else I'll do your ass next, bitch.”

Nina shrugged at him. He steadied the gun, the laser sights flicked on, the hammer pulled back another hair.

A bull voice roared from the house, “What in the name of Sam Hill's going on here?” The stranger stepped out of the French doors to stand by the pool. He spotted Benny and gave a strangled cry. “You lightening sun-a-bitch.” He tore off a once-new Stetson and slammed it to the ground. “What in the hell is this? You piece of trash, you after my little Nina? I'll castrate you. Come here, boy. Now,” Griffin screamed and darted around the pool.

Benny's eyes widened at the sight of the rumpled, sweaty figure that ran along the patio.

“Yo.” Laughter boiled up. It roared at Griffin. “The politico. Hey, man. How'd it go with the fuzzy creeps? Jail bird.”

“You know this man, Senator?”

Griffin looked up and stumbled. Arms flailing, he tumbled and executed a perfect back flop into the pool.

He crawled out, his eyes never leaving Connel. The soaked black Stetson slowly crumpled in his fists.

Silence followed as he took in Connel and the gun.

And a naked daughter.

“A . . . ah, Republican, I'm certain, Senator.”

Nina uttered a small laugh and Connel belatedly recalled the Senator, himself, was one of the opposition. Feeling distinctly ill, Connel gave the senator a sickly grin. Poor Connel. Even Nina felt sorry for him. Almost.

Benny's smile was much, much broader.

The old man crammed on the remains of his hat. He glared up at Connel, his voice a mere hiss.

“Just what the dammed hell are you doing in my daughter's - my fourteen-year-old daughter's bedroom, Congressman McNary? Stark, staring, jay-bird naked?” The senator's neck turned an admirable shade of turkey red. Bellowing insane screams, he plowed through the crowd of rent-a-cops and rammed himself back in the house.

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