Chapter 2: An Unfair Fight

The next morning at work, I got bad news. Gary Ross was having trouble again. Gary was an ex-con, a weightlifter, a former state wrestling champ, and a troublemaker. The mill owner, Mr. Crabtree, had a soft spot for problem cases, or Gary would have been out on his ass years ago after all the trouble he used to cause at the local dives. More than one townie woke up in a hospital bed after crossing Gary. Two years ago, though, Gary started dating Lisa Hatcher, a former beauty queen from Polk county. Lisa was too young and too pretty for Gary, but she had a thing for muscles, and she had helped straighten his life out. Until now.

Now he was in my office, hardhat in his hands, looking at the floor. Gary and I had gotten close over the past couple of years. I had tried to mentor him, and we’d shared more than a few beers. But now he had cold-cocked Wally Crandall and it looked like he was turning back into the old Gary. I could smell booze on him. Gary can drink a barrel of beer, but just a few drops of liquor turns him violent. I had to be careful.

“What’s wrong, Gary?” I asked. “For the past two years you’ve been quiet. You’ve been one of my best guys. You’re my friend. Now this?”

Gary shook his head. I knew there was something wrong.

“Gary, is Lisa okay?

At the mention of Lisa’s name Gary started sobbing. I had never seen Gary Ross cry. Normally he was making other people cry.

“She left me, Rick,” he stuttered. “She left me for some old broad that just moved into town. Out in your neck of the woods. She just told me plain as day this morning. Kissed me goodbye and loaded her suitcases into a cab...”

I couldn’t believe it. The dark bruise on my stomach throbbed as I thought about Rachel Finklestein’s bodybuilding display, her svelte body etched with muscular curves and her gigantic breasts swaying back and forth. I was at a loss for words. “Look Gary,” I said, “take the rest of the day off and we’ll grab a beer after work.”

Gary nodded and headed for the door. “Thanks, Rick,” he said.

“And no booze, Gary,” I called out. “Just watch TV or something.”

Gary hadn’t been gone five minutes when the phone rang. It was Sherry calling from the hospital. Andy was hurt.

“Apparently it was a hit and run,” Dr. Kremer said. “There doesn’t appear to be any long term damage to his bones or organs, but he won’t be eating solid food anytime soon.”

“Did anybody at school see the car?” Sherry pleaded. “What was he doing in the street in the middle of the morning?”

“We don’t know the whole story,” the doctor said, lighting a cigarette. “We’re just lucky that a classmate saw him and told her teacher. A girl from your neighborhood I think.”

Sherry continued to pepper Dr. Kremer with questions, but I couldn’t hear them. I was seeing red. I knew there wasn’t a car. I knew what happened. And I had a plan.

A few hours later the sun was going down and Gary and I were downing shots at my local. The bartender was nervous. Gary was getting louder, and every so often he would slam his enormous softball-sized fist into the table. I assured the staff that I had Gary under control. And I did. “If she weren’t a woman...” Gary growled.

This was the moment I was waiting for. “Gary,” I said. “It’s not a woman.”

Gary looked at me like I had a third eye. “Not a...”

“The Jeffersons next door said they went over to drop off a Bundt cake, and that Finklestein asshole told them plain as day that he’s a drag queen. Showed Bonita his driver’s license and everything.”

I could see the veins in Gary’s neck straining and he was turning red. “That’s fucking unnatural!” he screamed. “No way in hell I’m letting some queen in a wig take what’s mine!”

“Hey Gary calm down,” I said. “You’re getting everyone all worried. I’ll tell you what. I’ll drop you off at the Finklestein house on the way home. How about that?”

Gary slammed his fists down on the table and splintered the wood. “Fuck yeah,” he snarled.

Fifteen minutes later, I was turning off my lights and parking near the woods up the street from my house. Gary and I walked around the back of the block, avoiding the streetlights. A few minutes later we were crouching in the darkness in front of Rachel Finklestein’s house. Through the front window I could see Rachel in her red satin robe, glimmering with sweat. One of her hands held a glass of booze, and the other one held Lisa Hatcher’s waist. I had only seen Lisa in passing, but now I understood why Gary was so bent out of shape. She leaned against Rachel wearing a flimsy white nightgown that practically transparent. She had long blonde hair, shining blue eyes and creamy white breasts almost as big as Rachel Finklestein’s. Lisa’s nipples were bright pink and upturned and I could see them hardening as the older woman kissed her neck.

In a flash, Gary had kicked down the front door. “Lisa what the fuck are you doing with that drag queen!?” he screamed. “You are not leaving me for another man!”

Rachel Finklestein was unphased. “Drag queen?” she said, finishing her drink. “Where did you hear that?”

“Rachel is all woman,” Lisa said. “Just look.” And with that the former beauty queen pulled her new lover’s robe open to expose the triple-d-cup breasts that were overflowing a flimsy white spandex leotard.

But Gary didn’t care at this point. He was two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle, rage and liquor. He stormed toward the lovers and drew his fist back. Rachel pushed Lisa away. “Go shut the door, baby,” she said.

Gary bellowed and swung a haymaker at Dr. Rachel Finklestein’s soft babydoll features, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, her hand rocketed up and caught Gary’s fist in midair. My stomach turned. Lisa tried to force the broken door closed, and each slam sounded louder and louder in my brain as I watched Gary wince and buckle while Rachel squeezed her thin, manicured fingers around his fist. How could she be so strong? She had muscles, sure, but she wasn’t nearly as big as Gary. But bigger or not, Gary was crumpling to his knees. I felt a pang of guilt, first because I had tried to trick my friend into killing Rachel Finklestein, and now because I was afraid of what she might do to him. But Gary wasn’t done yet.

With a bellow he swung his other arm back and launched it at the beautiful brunette’s midsection. I could hear the thump of Gary’s fist against Rachel’s midriff, and then I could hear Rachel laughing. She hadn’t moved an inch. “Gary go home, she’ll smash you to bits,” Lisa pleaded.

“Shut up bitch!”Gary yelled in response, trying to wrest his hand free from Dr. Finklestein’s grip.

Lisa turned her nose up. “Fine then. Pound him to a pulp baby,” she said to the older woman.

Rachel smiled a vicious ugly smile. “Becky come out here,” she called. “Mommy wants to show you something.”