Killjoy

Killjoy

By Ash Glass

Copyright © 2017 Ash Glass

All Rights Reserved.

A Smashwords Edition.

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

Reader advisory: This book contains strong language, drug use, violence, and sexual situations.

This book is dedicated to my characters. To some of you I’m so sorry, and to others… you’re welcome. The same could be said to my readers! Get ready for one hell of a ride!

And also… thank you Mom and my twin Jackie!

kill·joy

kilˌjoi/

noun

a person who deliberately spoils the enjoyment of others through resentful or overly sober behavior.

synonyms: spoilsport, wet blanket, damper, party pooper; prophet of doom

PART ONE

Prologue

CAIN

I liked doing bad things; I had ever since I could remember. The best part was learning how to get away with them so no one would know. But an even better part was doing them for others and getting paid for it.

I liked money almost as much as I liked doing bad things. Really bad things.

Growing up in foster care, it became my own personal game to fuck with the other kids and the adults who were in charge of me. It was good practice for what I planned and the things I was hired to do. I wasn’t like most kids, pining for that fairytale ending with a family and everything that I wouldn’t have handed to me. I was more realistic in knowing that I had to work for it. And I worked very hard for my money and my position.

My reputation was spotless and so was my record. I had never been caught in my endeavors to make other’s lives a living hell like mine was. Every day I was stuck in a house with other abandoned kids, but they were the type of kids that had deserved it. My abandonment was purely circumstantial, I was sure. The circumstance being that my mother couldn’t raise me by herself, and my father ditched her. That was why I hated my father – but we’d get to that.

My life was total shit in those foster homes, with adults dumber than a box of rocks and kids who annoyed the fuck out of me with their whining about wanting love. Love was for pussies. I was the kind of guy that knew what I wanted, and it sure as shit wasn’t love. It was power and money.

The money part was easy to come by since I would do whatever it took to get it. My customers paid top dollar for a guy who knew how to keep his mouth shut and not get caught doing the bad things they wanted – it also helped that I was a teenager when I started my ‘underground’ business and was never someone that the finger would really be pointed at. The power thing was slower going. That fucking system that was put in place to ‘look after kids like me’ was the only thing holding me back from taking the world by storm. I was a patient man though. Very patient. I knew good things came to those who waited and I was prepared to wait a long time, and work hard to get what I wanted.

I wanted power over people, without them knowing that I had that power. I wanted to be the guy that people thought would help them – the good guy – only to pull the rug out from under them like it was to me so many fucking times in those homes I was put in. Like the foster fathers who put on a nice face to the social workers only to throw their glass beer bottles at us kids later, while screaming at us, and beating on us. I wanted to be the wolf in sheep’s clothing. I wanted society to suffer like I had, but only when their backs were turned, and I knew just the job that would help me achieve all the bad things I wanted to do, without anyone ever knowing.

I wanted to be a cop.

***

All that was needed to achieve this plan, was my high school diploma, which the state offers for free to everyone – so I was set and on my way to becoming a cop and a whatever-you-need-for-hire. I wasn’t picky with the jobs, whether it was hitman, bully, or thief. The only thing that would keep me from a job, was the level of sketchiness. I was not about to get caught – I was too smart for that and I was able to read people like no other.

I knew people’s intentions and could smell bullshit or traps from a mile away. I had that shit on lock since before I could walk. I knew the second I was about to be put in a shit home, I just never said anything about it. By outward appearances, I was a good little boy and then young man and that helped me take out my life frustrations on the assholes who thought they would do the same to me. I wasn’t one to cry wolf – even if there was one. Oh, no. I became a bigger wolf. I lived up to my last name – the only thing that I was given – my mother’s last name of DeWolfe.

It might have been easier to live on the streets, but running away would have been on my record – and I needed to be a perfect member of society on paper if I had any chance of having the perfect cover for the rest of my life and any future shenanigans. And I planned to have many.

Therefore, I went to school, was a perfect student, and then I enrolled in the police academy the second I turned 18. I was top of my class, learned everything I could and made nice-nice with all the higher ups until in just two short years, I became a detective – which is exactly what I wanted.

I wanted to be the guy that put guys like me away. It was a thrill knowing that I was arresting people who tried and failed at doing shenanigans and that the second they were behind bars, I could take their customers. I didn’t wear a uniform on the cases I was assigned (this made disguising myself easier) and I wasn’t around other law enforcers very much. I made it very clear that I worked alone, and when it was clear that it was effective – I was left to do my work and I was a hero and the best in the department. I was also the best liar.

And no one was the wiser.

***

The day I turned 25 was the day that I started looking for my father. Being a detective, it shouldn’t have been that hard to track down the man that made me, and honestly I was curious to not only see him, but to see how easy it would be to find him. All I knew was his first name and last initial – which wasn’t much to go by – but I was the best at what I did.

I had always wondered what he looked like. I had no desire to meet him, nor did I care what he thought of me, but I was finally tired of that little bit of power that my own curiosity had over me. Every time I looked in the mirror I wondered if he had the same blue eyes. My hatred only grew when I thought that he probably didn’t even know that I might have his eyes. He’d just left, like I was of no consequence to him – forcing my mother to give me away – being unable to support me. The only thing she was able to give me was her name, because she didn’t even know my fathers – just his initial which was on my birth certificate. The initial was the question that I had always wondered and wanted to ask him – Y.

A question that I probably never would ask him, but finding him might give me the answer in a different way. If I just found him – I could learn everything about him without ever speaking to him – I just had to watch him.

It was a lot easier to find him than I thought it might be. It was so easy because it seemed that I inherited more than possible looks from him. We ran in the same circles, and he was an avid lover of a specific type of shenanigan – one that I hadn’t quite gotten into - yet.

And, like me, he was very good at covering his tracks. But the old saying goes that I knew a guy, who knew a guy; and that…

Was how I found my father.

Robert Young.

Chapter One

CAIN

I had to admit that I liked his cover. A real estate investor is a great move when you were going to be a drug smuggler and dealer. He had his own schedule, had plenty of hiding spots that cops needed a warrant to enter, and the blame would most likely get pinned on the owners anyway.

I liked his style. But I didn’t like him.

I liked his son even less. His other son that is.

But we’d get to that.

***

When I first caught sight of Robert Young, he was strolling through the small town they lived in called Newhall. It was four or so hours from the big windy city where I spent most of my time. It was strange that this whole time he was so close, yet also so far away in other ways obviously.

The woman must have been his wife, based on the rings on their fingers and the fact that they had a small son with them based on the way his lips from far away obviously formed the words ‘mother’ and ‘father’. Pretty strange thing that: no ‘mom’ and ‘dad’. I didn’t need any of my investigative skills to put together that they were a family – and a tense one at that. The boy looked about thirteen or so and he had the same eyes as our father and me, with blond hair that skipped me but that was shared with Robert although his was graying already – another indicator that his home life or business life was tense and stressful. Mine was more of a reddish brown, but the boy’s was ice blond – almost white.

I knew that it was Robert that I had seen strolling through town because I had asked about him. Sherriff Gordon – a middle-aged man was with his daughter at the station when I’d dropped by as a visiting ‘big city cop’ – his words – and he was more than happy to gossip with me like a middle-aged woman rather than answer the calls coming in on his radio about some kids speeding through town.

I could tell the crime here was low.

Not for long if my father’s empire grew.

I learned that every day in the late afternoon, the Young’s strolled through the park like the happy couple on a mid-day sitcom. I knew better. Looks could be deceiving.

I followed them home after that, and from the looks of their car and mansion, I’d say daddy dearest was rolling in money. And that was what had me hooked.

***

I was quite disappointed with myself that I hadn’t thought that Robert would be incredibly watchful and smell sketch from a mile away. It was just something you did when involved in shenanigans, like we were. Or at least when you were good at it, and apparently Robert was pretty good.

I had my car parked a few lots down – there were no neighbors occupying the only other house that was built on the street yet. The rest of the lots were empty. Privacy – check. The fact that my car was there was obvious, but I wasn’t necessarily hiding. But I also hadn’t wanted to be seen, either.

But I was.

I had to hand it to my old man, I hadn’t seen him until he was right at my window and rapping on it with his knuckles. I still didn’t jump though like I could tell he was hoping with the force he put behind his hand.

I put on a bored expression behind my sunglasses and rolled down the window with the handle on the door. Can I help you? I asked like I was the only one supposed to be there.

You can start with telling me who you are and why you’re here? A voice I had pictured a thousand times answered in a way my brain had never quite conjured up.

I smirked at him, You know? I don’t think I will… I said as I turned the key in the ignition, revved the engine and spun out of the barren neighborhood all while looking at him in my rearview mirror.

I hadn’t thought he’d have my plates memorized so quickly.

***

He found me easily at my hotel room. I had just ordered room service, and somehow I knew that he somehow knew that, so that he also knew I was likely to just answer the door when he rapped on it tamer than he had my car window.

I didn’t have my shades to protect my eyes that time – his eyes – and I knew he recognized them since he saw them every day in the mirror and his other son’s face.

He looked sincerely shocked, and although I knew he was smart – and even I could admit I could already learn a trick or two from the few times he has snuck up on me, when that was what I had planned for him – and most likely a world class actor, like I had learned to be, I could tell that his shock was not fake or bullshit.

That brought me up a bit short.

He had to have known about me – right? He left me and my mother…

Right?

Who are you? he asked again.

"I think you know the answer to that… dad." I smirked again. It was a whole new level of fun when you got to fuck with the person who had just fucked to get you there to be able to do it.

He recovered quicker than I thought he would, just definitely not in the way that I thought he would. He turned around real quick and left me – again.

And that was how the game started.

***

The next day, I paid a visit to his mansion again after I knew he was gone. His wife didn’t work – why would she with all the money they were rolling in? – and his son was home schooled. I’d done some digging the night before after Robert left with his tail between his legs. His son was thirteen like I’d thought and his name was Marcus. The wife’s name was Dana and she had no other family except Marcus and Robert. I also learned that she was sneaky, just like her husband, when she snuck out of their house and went to a bar and into the men’s room with some guy - in the middle of the day. Marcus was home alone.

I filed that away.

Watching Dana was interesting – it was almost like she knew that I was. She would do things that people didn’t do when they were alone – or they thought they were. One afternoon, after Marcus had taken off on his bike, I was watching her through my binoculars. She had on all the lights in the front living room she was in, but also made sure that all the curtains were spread wide. Sunlight and lightbulbs were a bit excessive to do some reading – which was what she had staged – and I knew it was all fake because she never turned the page. She wanted me to really be able to see her.

After an hour of her staring at the book, she finally looked up from it – and straight at where I was hiding in some shrubs that were trimmed in the shape of perfect triangles. She slowly stood, all while looking at where I was – though I doubt she could actually see me – and then she stripped just as slowly.

She was covered in bruises in every spot that her clothing had hidden, and she seemed to like it, if the way she winked in my direction was any indication while she rubbed her fingers on certain fresh ones.

She liked having bad things done to her. I liked doing bad things.

And that was how we started.

***

She was eight years older than me, but the hottest woman I had ever fucked. It gave us both a thrill – the taboo of it all. Not only the fact that she was my father’s wife, and I was sort-of her stepson, but the things that we did together too. Not only did I fuck her within an inch of her life, but I also beat her to that measurement.

And she fucking loved it.

Not me, but it. And that was my favorite thing about her – the fact that we were on the same twisted page and reveled in it, all while my father was none the wiser. There was no love between us, only lust.

Until there wasn’t.

And that was how it ended.

***

The first time I fucked her was twenty minutes after she had winked at me. I hadn’t been able to stop my feet from carrying me to their front door and rapping on it until my knuckles almost bled.

She made me wait for it though – hence the twenty minutes I was stuck standing there. When she finally opened the door only to immediately turn and start sauntering away in her bruised birthday suit, I ran after her and shoved her against the wall by her neck.

Her back was to me, and her cheek was smashed against the alabaster paint that was as pristine as her skin and almost the same shade. She gasped softly and started gyrating her hips – seeking what I was gonna give her. I put my mouth to her ear and whispered forcefully into it, Do you know who you’re about to fuck?

She moaned against the wall, Not my husband.

She couldn’t have been more right. And the way we went about it, more wrong.

After slumping down to the floor and taking her as hard as the tile underneath us, was when she told me what I already knew. He’s gonna use you.

I smacked her on the ass, I’m counting on it. And I knew that she knew that, too.

I had a feeling that Robert had no idea how much his wife was like us. Cunning, sharp and sneaky – she paid attention like women usually did, and was dismissed as weak by the man she married – which was also typical behavior of men with power. I had seen the kinds of women that flocked to men like us – men who did bad things. The men got caught, while their women watched in the background with an Oscar winning face of innocence.

I had never arrested a woman, even the ones who were obviously just as guilty as their lovers – no evidence had ever stuck to them.

Dana was that type of woman. Or she was at least until she tried to go a step further than simply letting Robert take the risks. She decided to be a risk taker too to get what she wanted. Her biggest mistake was thinking that what she had wanted, would be what I wanted too – or at least that I wouldn’t care either way, but she thought wrong. And that was how it ended.

I was happy to fuck her, but when she’d decided to fuck with me and what I had going, (despite that not being her real intention)? Well… that was when I had to fuck her over like she inadvertently tried to do to me...

***

Quicker than I’d thought he would, Robert showed up to my hotel again. I was sure he’d done his research on me, and knew all about me being a cop – something I knew was valuable to anyone in our other line of business.

I knew that he didn’t know about how I’d fucked his wife only the day before, since he didn’t greet me with a gun or a fist to the face. Dana could keep secrets, she just ended up not eventually.

What’s your price? He cut to the chase.

And that was how the good old nepotism started.

Chapter Two

CAIN

I enrolled in the Drug Enforcement Agency soon after Robert wrote that first check, and it didn’t take long for me to become an agent, much to Robert’s excitement. He now had a DEA agent to tell him when his henchmen/dealers were seriously fucking up and the feds were starting to piece together some of our puzzle.

It was my job to be his eyes and ears, and he paid me fucking good for it.

And that was all I cared about. Money and the power that I could have over the man who gave me life – simply by telling my fellow co-agent who happened to be hell-bent on closing in on my father and his shenanigans. I wasn’t sure at first how Samuel Holmes found out about my fathers’ dealings, and I hadn’t originally cared. All I knew was that my father was lucky that I liked his money more than the satisfaction I could get from fucking him over more than I did on a weekly basis when I met up with Dana.

The growth of my father’s business was really slow going due to all the fucktards who either ran their mouth or used more product than they sold. Good help was hard to find and so were the goons after I was through with them – we couldn’t have them making any deals with the courts if they were caught.

My father approved wholeheartedly, and I got a bonus for every body. On top of the bonus of having Dana’s body.

***

When the risk became more than the reward hiring strangers to do our marketing was when Marcus joined the family business – though he had no idea I was a part of either (the family and the business). He had just turned fourteen and although he wasn’t enrolled in the local high school, he still was a high schooler. The kids – being kids – were stupid and succumbed to his peer pressure rather easily when he rode his bike around school grounds at lunch time and snuck in some deals with the other kids.

Life around that town was boring, and Marcus was promising them some fun. The profits grew more than I was expecting. And Marcus was a good little listener and liked doing bad things too. A little bit too much at times.

Basically he was a loose cannon. He didn’t like to be told what to do.

Just like his mother.

***

1985

Today was my little brother’s fifteenth birthday, and I had his mother in her birthday suit. I was a lover of irony and this took the cake. Instead of watching him blowing out candles, I was getting blown – yet my fire didn’t go out – it roared just like I did when I released myself into Dana’s swollen mouth (and not just from the force of my kisses, but the force of my fist).

She smiled up at me while staying on her knees on the hard tile floor, reveling in all I’d done to her. She would take even more – I knew she would – she seemed to lack the knowledge of when to stop.

That was great baby, I told her as I put my hands under her arms and hoisted her on her feet.

She held her smile and agreed, It was.

You got your Mary Kay?

Don’t worry so much Cain, he knows how clumsy I am and he forgets where he marks me anyway, she smiled wider and I watched as her lip split farther apart and a bead of blood dribbled down her chin. I leaned forward and licked it up and she squealed in twisted delight.

What delighted me was the fact that Robert still had no idea just what his wife was up to. She was such a good little actress and that was also why I’d had no idea what she’d really been up to either.

Are you coming to Marcus’s party later today? She asked me a few minutes later from the vanity in the bathroom we’d fucked in that was the size of my apartment in the city.

It wasn’t like I couldn’t afford a place like my father’s, but I liked remembering that I came from nothing and stayed in my small apartment for that reason and the fact that there was also less places for people to hide or break-in at my tiny place. Being in my line of work, you could never be too careful.

I also may have loved money, but I wasn’t too keen on spending it just yet. I saved it for later.

I answered Dana’s question with a question, Why would I?

She did the same, Why wouldn’t you?

Because it sounded like a shit time? Because it’s not really my scene baby, I told her instead. I was more the type to rain on the parade rather than join it.

There will be lots of clients there, she pointed out, it’s not a children’s party… she stated the obvious. No plans of Robert’s – even the one’s seemingly for pleasure –ever were. There was always an ulterior motive to his dinners and dates.

The problem with going was I couldn’t rain on this parade, so what was the point? I liked mischief and Robert needed manners. He was looking for a business partner, and Dana knew all of this – She was taunting me so that I might hit her again.

She really had no self-preservation at all.

Quicker than even she was ready for – and she was always ready in more ways than one – I grabbed her around the throat and shoved her against the wall like I had our first time almost two years ago.

So much had changed, and yet I didn’t even know the half of it. Was this what you wanted baby? I asked, though I knew she couldn’t answer with more than a choked wheeze. I squeezed just a little longer as I watched her eyes get brighter in anticipation of that rush she would feel when I let her get back precious oxygen.

When she fell hard on her bruised knees back on the tile that she started on and in that same position when our night had started, gasping, I smiled a little and shook my head. Crazy bitch, I muttered in wonder. I’d never met a chick quite like Dana. At least not until years later.

Her choking gasps turned to little chuckles and she rolled to her back from her knees. She was staring up at me from the floor with light gray eyes and then she rolled them at me. You love it.

Not as much as you, I told her, even though it wasn’t true. It was kind of fun