A large man with a shotgun that Arthur did not know entered first. Then two more hulking gentlemen with pistols. They inspected the kitchen and the rest of the house while the shotgun wielder kept his eyes and his gun pointed at Arthur and Sam.
When the other two returned to the kitchen one of them stayed to watch Arthur and Sam while the other went outside to let Varner know the coast was clear. Varner entered with two additional bodyguards, bringing the number of hired guns in Arthur’s crowded kitchen to five.
Varner did not look at Arthur, he went directly to Hank’s body, and Arthur could have sworn there were tears streaming down the older man’s eyes, but that wasn’t possible. Thomas Varner did not cry.
But then again, maybe he did. Arthur watched in awkward confusion as Varner knelt in the pool of Hank’s blood that had accumulated on the cheap laminate flooring of his kitchen and cradle Hank’s body tenderly. Varner held what was left of Hank’s head against his chest and wept openly as he tried to wipe the blood from the ruin of Hank’s face.
“Why,” Varner moaned. “Why did it have to end like this? Some putz in a cape and his skinny bitch in the hallway!”
Arthur looked at Sam perplexedly. The both shook their heads that they had no God-damn idea what was going on. Reluctantly, they turned back to watching Varner.
“So many years together, so many,” Varner whispered, still overwhelmingly distraught. “I should have listened to you. We should have retired and gotten out of this ass-backwards town and lived somewhere where we could be ourselves without worrying about all these damn hill-people getting their Bible-thumping panties in a bunch! But I didn’t listen. I wasn’t ready to give up all the power we had here. It’s all my fault! But I’m going to find them, you hear me? I’m going to find them and make them pay for what they did to you. What they did to me!”
Varner rose, wiped the tears from his eyes, and regarded Arthur and Sam menacingly. “If I find out that either of you have any inkling at all as to where those two murdering bastards went, I’ll kill you. By inches. And I will make you watch while I tear every person you have ever cared about apart piece by piece until I am ready to let you die. They took the only person I cared about away from me and I don’t care what it takes, I will find them.”
Varner and his thugs left, taking Hank’s body with them. Arthur and Sam spent the rest of the afternoon with a bucket of bleach, a mop, and about a dozen sponges trying to clean the blood off the walls and floor.
When they were finally done Sam wiped the sweat from her brow, leaving a stripe of blood across her forehead. “I think that’s as good as it’s going to get.”
Arthur nodded. “Let’s get cleaned up and then get out of here.” He helped Sam to her feet. “You can have the first shower.”
Sam smiled coyly. “Okay.” She headed towards the bathroom, pulling Arthur along behind her.
When they were both clean, Sam grabbed an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt of Arthur’s since her clothes were covered in blood. “How about we stay at my place tonight?” she asked. The t-shirt was not designed for someone with breasts so it was especially tight across her chest.
“What?” Arthur had been distracted by how much better Sam looked in that shirt than he did. He blinked heavily and looked up from Sam’s chest. “Oh, yes! I think that would be breast-best!”
Sam laughed at him and they left holding hands.
+
Arthur stirred the spaghetti noodles as they boiled. Sam leaned over his shoulder. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? You don’t exactly look well fed.” She poked his ribs playfully. She still had on Arthur’s t-shirt and sweats, he suspected she had not changed to keep him staring.
“I can make spaghetti,” he assured her.
Sam stepped around to his side and leaned her head against his shoulder. Arthur put his free arm around her and leaned his head on top of hers.
“I love you,” Arthur whispered.
Sam smiled. “You better!”
Arthur laughed and kissed the top of her head. A knock on Sam’s door drew her away from the stove. Arthur ran through the list of people who might be there to kill them and decided they were probably safe. If not he could always hurl a boiling pot of water at them and hope for the best.
“Oh...Macy. I wasn’t expecting you. At all.” Arthur heard Sam say to whoever was at the door.
“C-c-can I come in?” a girl obviously on the verge of tears asked.
Sam’s sigh was loud enough to be heard in the kitchen. “Of course you can.”
When Arthur finally got a look at this Macy character he only barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping. She was Sam. Sort of. If Sam spent about two months eating nothing but those donuts with bacon bits on them and then dyed her hair brown. Macy dropped what was either a small suitcase or an enormous purse in the middle of the kitchen and looked around. It was disconcerting to see a slightly rounder version of Sam’s face wearing so much makeup, most of which had been smeared by her recent crying. Macy had what looked like a blue ice cream stain on her pink unicorn shirt and her overly tight jeans had been unbuttoned for comfort.
“Ohmygosh! Sam, why didn’t you tell me you had a boy over?” Macy gasped when she saw Arthur.
Sam hobbled into the kitchen behind Macy and set down a giant suitcase beside Macy’s purse. Macy must have given it to Sam to carry without asking, because Sam looked more than a little pissed. “Arthur, meet my younger cousin Macy. Yes, I know we look alike, our mothers are identical twins.”
“Nice to meet you, Macy.” Arthur had to turn around and look at his boiling pasta to keep from laughing.
Macy put her hands on her hips. “Sam, you didn’t answer my question! I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend! Is this the guy you’ve had a crush on for like-”
“And that’s enough introductions!” Sam cut in quickly. “Macy, I’m guessing from your unexpected arrival with all your worldly possessions that things ended badly with Emmitt?”
“Y-yeah!” Macy started bawling again and she threw herself into Sam’s reluctant arms. “He was cheating on me and he said it was my fault because I’d gotten fat again! Like’s he’s so skinny in his extra-extra large cargo shorts and hoodies!”
“There, there.” Sam patted her cousin’s back awkwardly.
“Can I stay with you? Just for a couple days?” Macy pleaded in between sobs. “I can’t go back to mom’s house. We had a fight yesterday about Emmitt.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Yes, Auntie Elsie’s wrath is legendary,” she said sarcastically.
“I know!” Macy agreed, totally oblivious. “She’s so mean and she never lets me have ice cream. Ooh! Do you have any ice cream?” she asked hopefully, finally disentangling herself from Sam’s half-hearted hug.
“Um...no, I don’t think so,” Sam answered. She didn’t quite succeed in keeping herself from glancing down at Macy’s unbuttoned pants.
“Well why not?” Macy asked earnestly.
“I have beer…” Sam offered. Macy made a face. “And I think there’s some vodka in that cupboard over there. I’m pretty sure it’s still hidden there from when I woke up super hungover the day after Saint Patty’s and couldn’t look at booze without feeling sick.”
Arthur chuckled. “That was a great party...didn’t you trick me into letting you paint green shamrocks over my nipples?”
Sam grinned. “Yeah. Good times.” She reached into the fridge and put orange juice on the counter for Macy to use as a mixer and opened a beer for herself.
“Except that it wasn’t washable paint!” Arthur grimaced.
Macy grimaced too, but at the orange juice. “Don’t you have any lemonade or pop?”
“No,” Sam said a little more forcefully than she had to. She chugged most of her beer in one go.
“Is it at least low pulp? Pulp makes me vomit!” Macy leaned close to inspect the bottle.
Sam slugged the rest of her beer and grabbed another one. She took the spoon from Arthur and whispered, “We are going to need more beer.” She glanced over her shoulder to see Macy struggling to open the orange juice twist top. “A lot more.”
“No worries. I’ll be right back.” Arthur gave her a quick kiss and left for a beer run.
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