“Yep, that was her name! See, I just forgot, I guess. You must have heard this story before. Anyway, after Bane gets out, Tris sets him up, gets him a job, all of that. Then one day, he finds out from his uncle in passing that Bane stabs him in the back by fucking none other than Miss Teen USA! In fact, from what Tris could tell, Bane was probably fucking her three ways from Sunday! So Tris invited Abby to a fake party, hoping that he could get a little sugar through the right convincing. If anything, it'd kind of close out the game with a final score. But instead, Abby was so fucking love-struck that she sent her big-titted bitch friend in her place while she went off somewhere, probably fucking Bane and draining his balls of everything worthwhile. So, Tris got a little angry.”
“What the fuck did you do?” I hissed, stepping forward. “And stop with this third person Tris shit.” Chris brought his hands up, his eyes flashing with fire as he got to his feet, smirking as he dropped all the smoke screens and told the bare-faced truth.
“It's what I'm going to do that you should worry about. A vial to the friend, a vial to sweet Abby, and both of them are sleeping it off. When they wake up, they're going to find themselves in my nice, new little play room. Then it's going to be play time—all the time.”
I couldn't resist it anymore. I swung. Unfortunately for me, I forgot the first rule of hand-to-hand combat as I was lost in my anger, which is don't let your emotions get the better of you. I should have kicked out straight, or thrown a jab. Instead, in my anger, I let loose with a huge, looping overhand right that Chris stepped inside of, catching my arm and attempting to judo throw me over his shoulder. I hung on, though, the two of us crashing to the floor in a tangle of bodies, arms and legs as I tried to pummel him. Curses and grunts filled the air.
Chris got a shot into my ribs as we rolled, a tight elbow that drove the wind out of me as I felt something inside me let go. Coughing, I hung on as best I could, trying to avoid the punches he began to rain down on my head and shoulders. While he punched, he was yelling. “Man, I so tried to get you into the game, to have some fucking fun. I figured if anything, prison would have made you more understanding. Instead, I come to find that you're fucking the one that I let get away? You probably even love the stupid stuck up cunt too.”
“Fuck you!” I screamed, slipping my head to the side. Chris's punch, which had been aimed at my nose, slipped by, just clipping my ear before I could push the elbow up and over my head, allowing me to escape out the side. I wanted to try for a choke hold, but Chris was fast, scrambling to his feet and grabbing a small statue from the coffee table. He brandished it at me, the dull pewter-like metal gleaming in the afternoon light, suddenly deadly.
“Get out,” Chris said, raising the statue up. I was on one knee, pain flaring through my body as my most likely separated rib sang out inside me. “Get out—you're on your fucking own. I tried, Dane. I gave you a place to stay, got you a job, I even took you out to get some pussy. But you just wouldn't go along with the program. So fuck you. You're on your goddamned own.”
“I'll take this to the cops,” I hissed, backing away slowly. “I'll call the cops, and I’ll find Abby and Shawnie. You won't get away with this.”
Chris laughed, breathless and with a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth. “You stupid fuck, you're even dumber than Lloyd. Who's going to believe you? The cops? You're a convicted killer, dipshit. You go to the cops, and you'll be the one arrested. Stalking, sexual assault, murder . . . oh, I'm sure they'd love to find everything. Because I bet if the cops did a rape kit on sweet, sweet Abby's corpse, they'd find your DNA, wouldn't they?”
I could see it in Chris's eyes; he would have a backup plan. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I'd been the fall guy. He knew that if he ever got into a jam, he could use me as a convenient excuse. After all, Chris was the upstanding member of society, from one of the best families that had served his nation honorably. I was just his fuck-up friend who he'd given a second chance to, the most noble of gestures that would be regretted sorrowfully.
“I will stop you,” I gasped, backing away. I grabbed my phone from the counter as I approached the front door, glad that I still had my wallet in my pocket. “I don't know how, but I will.”
“I don’t think so, lover boy. By the time you figure things out, those two will be dead, and I'll be sitting here as free as a fucking bird. Get the fuck out. Next time I see you, I’m calling the cops myself.”
Chris darted forward and shut the door in my face, throwing the lock. I knew from months in the apartment that the door was steel core, and the deadbolt could probably hold back a motivated gorilla if it needed to. I turned and limped as fast as I could toward the elevator, hoping that Chris's bragging had been in haste.