Room Service

Room Service
A Tarantino-inspired short story

'...just one punch knocked him clean out.’

It was dark. Joe’s face felt like it was on fire; it didn’t help that he was sleeping on it. Footsteps echoed away like drums, pounding through his head. Groaning, he got up and tried to stop the floor from spinning as he staggered to the door. His eyes stung; he wiped them, and his hand came back crimson. Shit, he thought. That’s probably done all sorts of nasty to my face. He leaned against the door for support and aimed his mouth at the general direction of the slot.

‘HEEY!’ he yelled, in a stuporous drawl, his tongue getting in the way of everything ‘Can I get some goddamn ROOM SERVICE around here? What kinda hotel is this place?’
He chuckled at his own joke, inanely. Truth be told, he knew exactly what kind of hotel it was. The kind where people leave in pieces, if at all.
Footsteps grew louder and louder as his captors came closer. Joe backed away from the door; too many close encounters with large, scary men had made him wary of pressing his ear to doors.

It opened slowly and calmly; Joe’s eyes stung even more as harsh lights flooded the dingy room. It was dank and dark in every sense; there was water damage, and many bricks were exposed. A soiled and broken mattress lay in one corner, springs gleaming dangerously sharp; Joe had hardly felt it for the pain that was once his head. The door was thick and metal, probably ‘acquired’ from a prison. The tiny window behind him was barred and blacked out. Great, he thought. Only one way out.

The door opened, and a silhouette appeared in the blaze of light. It stood at average height, in a neutral and business-like stance. Made a change from the big scary guys for once.

‘Good morning, Joe.’

Joe snapped out of his pain-induced drunkenness. He knew his name. Nobody knew his name.

‘You have come here without my permission. That makes you food. You’re now food for my dogs. You’ll like my dogs, Joe.’

Shit. His head started pounding. I hate dogs. Dogs bite. Dogs eat. Dogs bite and then EAT you. I HATE dogs.

‘Maybe I don’t want your bitches anywhere near me,’ Joe spat. ‘Why don’t you just go back to your kennel, ass’. Wait, what? That doesn’t make any sense. Before Joe could figure out what he had actually said, the figure stepped forward and struck him with a vicious backhand. Joe’s nose exploded in fresh waves of pain as he fell to the floor, barely landing on the mattress.

‘Now now, Joe. I don’t like it when the dogmeat talks back.’ The figure leaned over Joe, so close that he could smell him; a smell of blood and sweat covered up with stagnant –but expensive - cologne. ‘You have been very naughty Joe. We almost didn’t catch you. But you slipped up Joe. You slipped up when you fucked my niece, Joe. I was considering letting you go, Joe, but then you took advantage of her,’ He leaned back slightly, allowing a slow sigh out as he looked at the top of the wall. ‘Well, I know that technically it was the other way around, but whoever fucks her without my consent forfeits themselves. I let her have a few hours of fun, and then I have my fun. You’ll like being my toy, Joe. It’s ever so much fun.’

He kicked Joe in the ribs. A sickening crack rang out in the cell, and Joe screamed out in pain. ‘But first Joe, I want to know what you did to my niece. Every little detail, Joe. Because you see Joe, I’m very protective of my niece. Every time someone’s fucked her, I’ve got the bastard in this little room and I’ve found out what they did. If they don’t tell me, I hurt them a lot. Maybe I get one of my pets in. I’ve trained one to eat your dick Joe. How would you like that Joe? Huh?’ He kicked him again, harder than before. ‘How would you like that, huh Joe? How would you like THAT?’ He was manic now, almost screaming the words at Joe. He started to kick him repeatedly, over and over, each time breaking or fracturing a new part of Joe’s flank.

‘Uncle, stop it. You’ll ruin your fun.’

The voice came from outside the room. The girl, Joe thought. Is she here to help or something?

‘Ah, pumpkin. How are you doing? Do you want another go at him? That punch you laid on him when he was leaving was really something.’

BITCH. She double-crossed me!

‘No, Uncle. I’m just thinking about you; the last one only lasted forty minutes before he bled out. You want them to last.’ She said the last word with a dirty, sexual purr. The same voice she’d used the night before…

‘…fucking whore…’ croaked Joe through the bile and blood he was spewing.

She gave him a look of pure venom. ‘At least I know how to fuck, you little,’ – she gave extra emphasis to the last word – ‘man’.

Leaning on the concrete wall across from Joe, he saw her clearly in the otherwise blinding light. She wore blood red stiletto boots, with violent-looking metal heels four inches long. Torn fishnets covered her perfect legs, leading up to tight leather hot pants with various studs and zips that seemed to serve no purpose; a deep brown gun belt hung off her hips, a hand cannon in the holster. Her midriff was exposed, displaying a perfectly flat stomach. Looking further up, Joe saw that she was wearing what looked like a series of leather straps covering her breasts and a leather choker around her delicate-looking neck; long leather gloves covered her hands and forearms, which she ran through her raven-black hair. Her lips were a deep, deep red and her eyes pierced him with an icy blue – framed by soot black makeup. She stood tall, over six foot before the heels kicked in, and had sharp, bird-like features that struck both lust and fear in Joe’s heart.

‘Oh come on sweetie, you didn’t actually think that I was going to help you, did you? My Uncle and I have been doing this since I started getting interest from passers-by. I don’t really fall for them; you’re just a nice distraction.’ Her accent flowed off her tongue; it didn’t belong amongst the blood and sweat. It belonged at ballrooms, in fancy parties, in movies. And yet here it was, keeping Joe on the edge of sanity. The smell of her skin, of her hair; it drove him into a stupor. He wanted nothing more than to get up and rip off what little clothing she had. His mind wandered away from the cell; back to the room she had taken him to, back to the scramble to remove clothing and back to the pleasure of their union.

The cutting pain in his ribs brought him back to reality.

They’d left. He was alone. Slivers of light shone through gaps in the black paint used to blackout the window. It had been hours. It was at least mid-morning; how long had he been in this cell now? He knew it was about nine when everything had gone black the first time. He’d been out for a few hours at least that time; now he was aching all over, and would have been hungry as a horse if his blood weren’t covering most of the floor. Dizziness threatened to overwhelm him as he tried to stagger to his feet; the pain in his ribs became unbearable, and he fell painfully and heavily to the floor, winding himself.

‘Quiet, I think I heard something’.

Joe suddenly stiffened. He stared at the metal door, willing his eyes to see through the scarred surface. Noises began to grow from behind it; scuffling, scraping and the sickening clack of a weapon being cocked that froze Joe’s heart.

It crashed open, catching Joe’s foot and undoubtedly breaking something. He screamed out in pain and looked up at the figure in the door; a wall of muscle carrying a huge gun. Fuck.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ bellowed the mountain of flesh; it swayed slightly and handled the gun.

‘Prisoner. Fucked the niece. Uncle got me.’

The mountain exploded in laughter. ‘You are lucky to be alive at all, you fool. He always kills within three days. If I had my way, I’d let you live and tell the tale; but I have orders. Goodnight, you broken man. I hope you find peace in the bosom of your chosen afterlife,’ He glanced at Joe’s shattered foot. ‘Sorry for compounding your pain and suffering from the little man’s outbursts.’

He aimed the gun at Joe’s head.

‘NO! I CAN GI-‘ Joe was still trying to plead for his life when the bullets shattered through his skull. What was left of his head thumped wetly on the concrete floor; scarlet spread in an even layer outwards. The casings rung against the floor, and the mountain walked away.

And all at once, everything was quiet.