Disclaimer: Adult content and Violent themes.
As still as a mouse, Gypsy sat on the floor in a puddle of filth and blood. Her ears in tune with the elements. Something was moving on the rickety old boards above. Maybe a wharf rat, or could be pigeons. Both of them could come in through the broken windows around the top of the building. Tiny fragments of dust fell, her eyes remained on the detached dick on the floor. Sure, she teased in the past about being mad enough to rip off a man’s penis, but she never thought it would happen for the love of God. The only person she thought she would kill would be her father, but Rocco Lucchese took the highway to hell first. As she waited for the ball to drop, the sound from above went silent. Yep, a bird, it was only a fucking rat with wings, well, she hoped.
There is a time in life when relief sets in and you think everything is over. Well, for Gypsy, that feeling didn’t come, not yet, at least. Every hair on her body stood at attention, her stomach tightened with dread, and all for a good reason. A door slammed behind her, and footsteps rapidly left the building. She was right. She wasn’t alone. Someone witnessed the ordeal, and now, she knew this was far from being over. Just when life was looking up, the past pulled the rug from beneath her feet once again.
“FUCK!” she screamed. Sitting on the floor until the morning light broke through the cracks in the wall, Gypsy knew she needed to get out of there before whoever Rocco had waiting for him came to pick him up. Men like Lucchese didn’t show up to the party without back up of some kind. Another reason she felt uneasy. Why hadn’t someone shown up yet? Scrambling to her feet, Gypsy grabbed the black dress that lay in a heap on the floor, slipping it over her head to cover her from the elements. If she knew that she would spend the night in a drafty old building, she would have dressed for the occasion. What she needed more than anything was a phone. Gypsy looked around the room for her small clutch. Maybe she left it in the car. The driver had probably disposed of it by now. A slight vibrating sound coming from the body was her beacon of hope. Rocco’s phone was ringing.
“Sorry, Lucchese, as you said, it’s only business,” she laughed. Pushing the body over, her hand went to her mouth immediately. His body still seeping a small amount of blood. It was the wound that made her sick to her stomach. In less than 5 hours, the circle of life began. A rodent chewing on the gaping wound, she kicked at the vile little rat, sending it flying across the room. A squeak of pain and fear came from the animal as it ran away. Using only the heel of her shoe, Gypsy pushed down on his pockets, grinning when she hit something hard. His phone. She quickly put her hand in the pocket, yanking the small cellular device out.
“Shit, what the hell,” she growled as she pushed buttons. It was fingerprint locked. A quick shrug before grabbing the stiffs hand, using his finger to open the lock screen. “Ew, fuck, gross. You finally got stiff,” she spat. As she dialed the numbers, her fingers shook like a junkie on the second day of being clean. “I need a ride. I’m at the place where Frank was. I need you to get here now. Something happened,” she said. There was only one person in the world she could trust right now. Nicolette was not only her cousin, but she was the only one who could get her out of this mess.
Twenty minutes later, the sound of car tires pulled her attention back to reality. It was either heaven or hell knocking at the door, and honestly, she didn’t know which one of those was Nicolette.
“Where the fuck are you?” a voice called out.
“I’m in here,” Gypsy called out, needing her cousin to come inside. She would need to know what happened and how they could dispose of the body without anyone knowing who did it. In that department, Nicolette was a professional. “Hurry, we got problems,” Gypsy added.
As the door opened, a blinding stream of light followed the female but dimmed the moment the door closed. “What the hell did you do? Fuck, Gypsy, what the fuck happened?” Nicolette asked. Dressed in a pair of black slacks, a white silk blouse, and boots, Nicolette was shocked. Covering her mouth with her hands, she burst into a roar of laughter the moment she noticed the detached penis lying on the floor. “Why am I not shocked? Who the hell is this?” Nicolette asked.
Wrapping her arms around herself in a tight hug, Gypsy shook her head, “Rocco Lucchese. He knows about what we did to Frank and wanted revenge. Nic, what the hell am I going to do?” Gypsy asked.
Nicolette bent at the waist to catch her breath from the overwhelming stench of rotting fish and decaying human remains. “Grab something we can weigh the body down with, and we can toss him in the ocean. It’s time for Rocco to get those cement shoes everyone is raving about,” Nicolette laughed. None of this was funny, but sometimes nerves react in the oddest of ways.
As both of the women searched for bricks, the pier came alive with the sound of trucks, workers, and sea life. Both were thankful the building was not open for business and sat directly over the ocean. “Use that rope over there and tie a couple of bricks to his legs. I’m going to make sure there is no wallet and take all the jewelry off the body,” Nicolette said.
As the two finished, Nicolette looked over to her cousin with a worried expression. “You might want to look away. I need to make sure there is no way to identify the body,” she warned. As Gypsy turned, the tall brunette used the same knife that killed him to remove his fingers’ tips, each one taken to the bone. The remnants of his skin tossed in the corner. She knew a rat would dine on that before anyone thought to look for the man. The next part was the worst. Using a large cement block, Nicolette held it over his head, dropping it full force onto his mouth. Dental records need to be untraceable. The sound it made on impact was deafening.
“Oh god, fuck, Nicolette,” Gypsy turned, her hand immediately over her mouth filling with vomit. Gagging, she spilled the contents of her stomach on the floor at the sight of Rocco. His face resembled one that had a steamroller drive over the top. Brain matter spilled, but this time, it wasn’t on her face. “Why did you do that? Fuck, Nic, why?” Gypsy cried. As she wiped on her mouth, her cousin explained.
“Dental records would identify him. Now he is just a lump of shit that no one will recognize,” Nicolette said. With no emotion in her voice, Nicolette grabbed one arm, pointing to the other, “Get his hand. We need to dump him in the ocean before anyone shows up.”
Rocco Lucchese sank into the pacific ocean as the two women stood on the dock, watching his body go down. No prayers or fanfare was given. They rid the world of another waste of life. “Make sure you left nothing behind inside. We don’t want anyone to trace this back to you, okay?” Nicolette said. She was as cold as ice when it came to death, but for her, this was just another day and another scumbag gone. “And don’t get anything on my car seats. Take that dress off before getting into the car. Blood, stains,” Nicolette said.