THUGLIT Issue Four by Roger Hobbs, Eric Beetner, Patti Abbott, Sam Wiebe, Albert Tucher, Christopher Irvin, Anton Sim, Garrett Crowe Read Free Book Online Page B

to smash my face in? What would you have done if you succeeded?”
    “Buried you. Out by the coast, probably. I hear bodies wash up there all the time. But it didn't happen. You're good.”
    I didn't say anything. The door to the bar opened and a group of people came out. They looked at us as they went to their van. Mancini was still on the ground, breathing slow.
    Vincent turned to him. Said, “It still hurts?”
    Mancini nodded. Didn't say anything.
    “Did you really swing at him with all you got?”
    Mancini was quiet for a moment. He grabbed his elbow and kept his arm straight as he worked himself up off his knees. When he spoke his voice was slurred and broken, like his mouth was full of cotton balls. When he opened his mouth I could see the rough stub of his tongue, and the scars on the inside of his cheeks.
    He said, “Kid's alright.”
    Vincent came over and patted me on the back. He pushed a cigarette out of his pack for me. I took it, just so I wouldn't have to explain to him that I didn't smoke. I held it in my hand until Vincent was done smoking his, then discretely dropped it on the sidewalk. We walked back to the car in silence. I sat in the back seat and watched the cones of our headlights pierce through the forest.
    From that moment on, Vincent and Mancini treated me like I was one of them. A brother. They told me all their dirty jokes and stood up for me whenever they thought I was being threatened. They invited me to eat with them and they ordered me a drink whenever they were having one. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Vincent and Mancini were ready to die for one another, and they'd both die for me.
    "You've got brass ones, kid," Vincent said. "Like one of us."

Under The Bus
    By Albert Tucher
     
     
     
     
    “Check this out,” said Mary Alice.
    She slid her smart phone across the table. Diana moved her Greek salad and diet soda aside and cent ered the phone in front of her.
    “Now there’s something you don’t see every day,” she said. “A naked man with a hard-on.”
    “Comedian,” said Mary Alice. “You’ve already seen it twice before lunch. So have I, but never mind that. Look at his face.”
    “What about it?”
    “That’s the face of family values.”
    “No wonder I don’t know him.”
    “Len Howard? Mister Social Conservative of Warren County? He’s the one who started the crackdown out there.”
    “The one who’s yelling about prostitution in his fair city?”
    “That’s him.”
    “I figured he was worried about his reelection and just looking for an issue.”
    “He is. But take a wild guess how he knows about it.”
    “He’s a client. Surprise, surprise.”
    “If he hasn’t gotten to you, he will. I think he’s pretty new at this hobby of his.”
    Diana knew how that went—a man found out that he could buy hot and cold running sex, and he went crazy.
    For some men it was just a phase, but others never got over it.
    “How did you get him to hold still for the picture?”
    Mary Alice grinned. “I told him to close his eyes and he’d get something special.”
    Diana took another look. Howard’s eyes were indeed closed in the picture.
    “Did he? Get something special, I mean.”
    “Of course. I run an honest business here. But now I have some insurance if he ever tries to throw me under the bus.”
    Diana didn’t comment, but Mary Alice’s plan was a bad idea. If it really came down to it, a hooker was better off taking her lumps than threatening an influential man.
    “Matter of fact,” said Mary Alice, “I think I’ll email this to the group, so everybody will know what’s going on.”
    That was an even worse idea. Diana and Mary Alice both belonged to an online discussion group, where women in the business vented and shared information about good clients, bad clients, reliable gynecologists, and police crackdowns. New members had to come with an introduction from a veteran, and years earlier Diana had sponsored Mary Alice.
    But everything runs