Brush Creek Charlie by D. B. Reynolds (best free e book reader .TXT) 📕

all, why is he wearing those dark shades this late at night? Second of all, why was he the only guy here at our prayer vigil? And third, are you sure that might be him?”
“Do you notice the deep acne pits in his face?”
“Somewhat, but it’s nighttime and he’s kinda at a distance.”
“I’m telling ya, Carol, I believe it’s him.”
“He fits the same profile as the guy you saw down in Brush Creek?”
“The exact same profile!” Sandy jolted with assurance. “If my memory serves me right, he told me that his name was Charlie.”
“Yeah, he looks like a Charlie.”
Sandy conjured up a level of bravery. Within an instant, she moved towards him with swift feet. “Hey, Charlie, is that you?”
The man she recognized far too well rushed up a dark side street. Sandy followed him with insanely hot pursuit. “Hey, Charlie, you’re the sonofabitch who killed my dog Bolo, then tried to rape and kill me! Aren’t you the same motherfucker!”
Neighbors in the Hyde Park area looked out their windows and came out on their porches. Her voice carried through the wood and concrete layers of their houses. Finally, those old retired people got some action along their street, with none of it being lethal in nature.
Sandy shifted from a swift walk to an aggressive jog. “Hey, Charlie, you’re the filthbag who killed and chopped up those two women down in Brush Creek! Aren’t you, you lowlife sonofabitch?”
While Sandy chased after Charlie, Carol did some chasing of her own. Sandy was the only special woman she had left in her life. Losing her to an insensitive maniac like Charlie was the last tragedy she needed in her life.
The foot pursuit mounted to heated levels. Charlie ran faster and faster while his urine bag juggled around his old bodily fluids. Sweat moistened his face and soaked his upper body from under the warm fleece. He pumped out heavy spurts of breath. Sandy accelerated her pace by coming within close range of her one-time attacker.
“Charlie! Charlie! You can’t keep running forever! You bastard, just give it up and turn yourself in.”
Carol built up enough speed to come within inches of Sandy. She grabbed her by the middle of her jacket. “Have you literally lost your mind!”
Sandy came to a complete stop. “Carol, he’s the scumbag who killed Bolo. He’s the dirtbag who tried to rape and kill me. Why are you stopping me from catching him, babe? Why?”
Carol paused for a quick breather. “What I’m trying to do is keep myself from going to your funeral. Have you forgotten that he might be the same psychotic-sicko who made mince meat out’a those two women they found in trashbags down in Brush Creek? What makes you think he won’t do the same thing to you?”
“Babe, at this point, I just don’t give a fuck anymore.”
“Furthermore, are you one-hundred percent sure he’s the exact guy?”
“Sure I’m sure,” Sandy nodded, followed by stronger huffs and puffs.
“Alright, what if he had a pistol or a knife on him?”
“Still, at this point, I just don’t give a good goddamned anymore.”
“Honey, don’t let your ignorance put you six feet under.”
“Everytime I think of Bolo, I think of what he did to him.”
“Okay, what if you would’ve caught this creep and he wasn’t the same person?”
“Then, I would’ve apologized and called it a night.”
“Besides, you still haven’t gone to the police and told them what happened that night down in Brush Creek. You and I both agreed that it was part of your civic duty to march right into police headquarters and tell them everything.”
“Can you believe the nerves on that mentally-endowed maniac? He had the nerves to show up at one of our biggest prayer vigils. I’m telling you, Carol, it was definitely him.”
“Next time, don’t go running after some complete stranger unless you know for sure he’s the one. And please have some protection on you.”
“I will, babe, I will.”
Sandy and Carol walked back down the dark street and took off in their car.


CHAPTER—36

Derrick and Mitchell were masters at shedding the woes of IRS politics. The snitches from other departments worked their last good nerves. The low level employees did everything outside of reasoning to move themselves up the IRS ladder. Screw every snitching bastard who ever worked near or right beside them. Give them enough leverage and they created their own demise. But the loving couple found solace at one of Kansas City’s most popular gay nightclubs. Missy D’s was the name of this joint. The gays came to let it all loose.
Any gay person who was somebody could be found on Friday and Saturday nights at Missy D’s. The place jumped like a bin of doped up chickens. The rules were relatively clear. No drugs or weapons. No fighting or harassing other patrons. No drinks carried outside the club. No soliciting of any kind. The deejay spinned the happening sounds. The bartender stirred up the smoothest drinks. The kitchen served up the tastiest cuisine. What more could anyone looking for a good time ask for?
To add life to their inner circle, Derrick and Mitchell brought along their exciting IRS protégé, Kathy Lowell. It didn’t take much to talk Kathy into coming with them to Missy D’s. It was Saturday night and it was also celebrity impersonator night for the dragqueens. The boys were going to dress up like old and new female celebrities.
Some of the boys wanted to look better than the women. Well-groomed gay men and lesbians showed up at Missy D’s in full force. My were they looking good. Certainly, they smelled good. Delicious enough to have for desert. In the lustful eyes of straight women like Kathy, she fantasized about having some of the black men on her menu as a personal smorgasboard.
“C’mon Kathy, what that’s look in your eyes?” Derrick asked Kathy, reading her open expression.
“The boys are looking mighty delicious in here,” Kathy replied, nerves of eroticism striking her senses.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“Look Derrick, I know what type of setting we’re in.”
“These guys in here are probably getting more dick than you.”
“Which pisses me off.”
“Girlfriend, there’re plenty of straight clubs where you can find some dick.”
“As long as it’s black dick.”
“And, as long as somebody’s got condoms.”
“Safe sex is a matter of life and death in the new millennium.”
“You better ask somebody.”
“Besides, my vibrator can take care of everything during my horny periods.”
“You women are so damn lucky.”
“Lucky? How?”
“Vibrators, dildos, beads, ticklers, creams, lotions and all types of other shit. There’s a shitload of toys you women can buy to get yourselves off.”
“For the right price, men can find ways to get themselves off.”
“Maybe that’s why clubs like Missy D’s fill up with lesbian women. You know, the dyke bitches who’ll be quick to tell men that they don’t wanna spend time with them, but they’ll gladly spend all of their money.”
“Well, that’s the woman of the new millennium.”
“The Twenty-First Century woman, huh?”
“The century of women who replace men with careers and material possessions.”
Kathy twirled her head in circular motions. “But, you’re a gay man. You’d be the last guy on Earth to concern yourself about the women of this modern day.”
“Yes, but I do have six brothers who are straighter than an arrow. They deal with women who care more about making money and shopping than they do about the welfare of their husbands and children. Those are the type of women I’m concerned about when it comes to my brothers.”
“Women who put their desires above their families and their communities?”
“Now you’re catching on.”
“One of my two brothers is married to a money-hungry whore. All she cares about is how big his paycheck is and how much money he spends on her.”
“And he hasn’t divorced her yet?”
“With four kids, a house mortgage, two car notes, credit card bills, and private school, divorce would be the last option.”
“Cheaper to keep her, huh?”
“Always.”
“Maybe that’s why none of my brothers have divorced their wives, even with some of their kids grown and moved out.”
“Marriage is easy going in, but hard coming out.”
Derrick pulled Mitchell closer and swung his arm around his waist. “Girlfriend, I don’t ever have to worry about any of them bitches divorcing me or breaking my heart. I’ve got everything and then some coming home to me every day and night. Ain’t that right, baby?”
“That’s right,” Mitchell complied, a smile etched on his face.”
Derrick and Mitchell tilted their heads in the same direction. Their lips met and created a thick layer of moisture. A French kiss topped everything off when their tongues twisted inside one another’s mouths.
“Hey, hey, save all of that for after the club,” Kathy announced, getting turned on by the male-on-male interaction.
Derrick and Mitchell created smacking noises similar to starving men attacking their last meals.
Kathy got their attention with a loud grunt. “Excuse me, boyfriend and boyfriend. Do I have to throw a big bucket of water on you two to make you all stop?”
Derrick stopped and wiped his mouth. “Oh, were you saying something, Miss Kathy?”
“You two have got the rest of the night and morning to get your freak on.”
“The impersonator show is gonna start soon.”
“Wanna order drinks?”
“We should before the show starts.”