As Jack had predicted, Stanley was indeed inside the Ruby Hessle. With him was a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, with a mane of dark mahogany hair. She was obviously a whore to the upper-class; a tight black dress shimmered with a pattern of diamonds as it accentuated her slim figure. They were sitting at a table near the windows; Jack could see he had his hand on her leg and that she rolled her eyes at his unheard jokes. Pumping the young now Granddad? He thought sarcastically, she could be your Granddaughter... Hell it wouldn’t surprise me if she was your Granddaughter. Stanley was a lecherous piece of shit as far as Jack was concerned.
Night had fallen with haste, as Jack waited out of sight from the passing pedestrians. Within his jacket pocket laid a straight razor; not his usual weapon but it would do for this particular person.
A limousine pulled up before the restaurant; a black monstrosity with ‘Ass is Grass’ on the front grill. A crude symbol of the perversion of Stanley Santiago; it was the same limo he had owned for a number of years. The driver was a young man with a cock-tickler moustache who was perusing the novel Red Moon by the famous Xander Edwards who was the in-thing right now. Jack hadn’t read the novel; but anything that was popular was usually bullshit to him. An idea formed in his mind, as he saw the rapt attention the driver was giving to the book. Jack slipped in front of the restaurant and quietly opened the limousine’s door. The driver did not lift his head until it was too late. With the unerring speed of primal skill, he released the straight-razor from his pocket and slashed a smile onto the man’s throat. From then on, he was eternally twenty three.
Stanley finished his wasabi dish with the gluttony that his wife had frowned upon. But, tonight he was in luck as she was not with him. Instead he was in the company of Claire; socialite wannabe and a glorified whore. She sat next to him dejectedly, with only a glass of spring water that did little to stifle her hunger. Stanley had his over-sized hand on her thigh; something that made her skin crawl. He grinned at her over mouthfuls of his dinner like an undersexed teenager. She knew what he wanted and what Stanley wanted he usually got. Claire wasn’t entirely blameless however as she had agreed to this. But not for that reason; rather she needed a loan so she could start afresh in Beverly Hills. Beverly Hills had become a state unto itself; police protection around its borders to keep out the ruffians and the goddamn rats of the paparazzi. Every yuppie in this town had turned her down flat; mainly because she wouldn’t perpetuate their adultery. The days of going down on over-weight and over-fifty businessmen were done. But the reputation she held was not about to give-way; that alone was the reason she wanted to move. Never mind the rise in crime in the maggot-infested Big Apple.
As Stanley finished his meal, Claire spoke after what seemed an eternity of silence. “Umm Stan honey? Can we get down to business now?”
He turned his head and considered her for a moment. His hand had left the silky zone of her leg; for the time being at least.
“You want the money don’t you?” He replied with his usual tact. Yuppie or not, he was still devoid of class.
“Yes I do, I just... can’t live here-“
He waved his hand as downed his glass of wine.
“Why don’t we go to my place and... discuss this further?” His voice took on the charm of a sleazy salesman trying to sell lead face-cream.
She nodded solemnly and stared at the glass of water which was now collecting dust. She had been sick to her stomach ever since she arrived; this was fine by Stanley as he had not planned on buying her dinner.
Stanley stood up suddenly and left a wadded mass of $50 dollar bills on the table. He never waited for the bill and the staff never seemed to mind; he always overpaid and the tips were for the taking. He almost ran outside to the limousine which was waiting for him at the entrance. Claire sighed as he turned his head back to her smiling lustily. He didn’t want to simply talk, that was a goddamn fact. Perhaps in an attempt of kindness, he held the limo’s door open for her, but even then she felt his eyes exploring her body. A shiver ran down her spine as she sat down on the leather seat, looking out onto the maelstrom that was New York traffic. Stanley sat next to her, a little too close to her with the same sleazy smile permeating his face like black clouds upon a summers sky.
“Take me home Hanson” He barked suddenly at the divider between him and the driver. For a moment, Claire thought she heard him say handsome. Yeah, if only... then he wouldn’t be trying to feel her up he felt that way about his own gender. “Why wasn’t you waiting outside to hold the door open for me?” His voice became a pathetic whine.
There was no answer from the driver; silent as always. Stanley flipped him off as the limousine roared into life and joined the traffic. It was only until they were turned into Stermans Road that they realised something was wrong. By then, it was too late.