The Demise of Billy Deacon

Billy Deacon looked around in complete contempt, why did he bother coming he asked himself for the tenth time? He searched his memory and recognised some, kids he played with, some friends and those he fought. But time had taken its toll; hard muscle had been replaced by bulging beer bellies, the red noses quickly identifying the serious drinkers. He recognised women who in their youth had been so attractive and desirable, but now bore all the signs of a hard life, wrinkles, sagging tits and fat arses. A few he'd fucked, others he'd not managed, but now there wasn't one he'd now give a second glance. He could feel the defeat in their lives, their dreams of riches and success all but forgotten; the hopelessness of their plight knowing that tomorrow and the next day would be no different than yesterday. He took in the kids, the snotty noses and the obvious cheap faded clothing. There was no doubt he was looking at tomorrow's delinquents and criminals. He turned his attention back to the adults; fuck them all, he thought to himself, what a useless pack of cunts.

Billy Deacon had been born a block from the church in which he now sat. His parents, both hard nosed Catholics, had dragged their six children to church every Sunday to hear the voice of god. From a young age, Billy hated that god, the god who robbed him his Sunday mornings with his friends, the god who understood that the welts from his father's wide belt were just and deserving, and that the pain would make him a better person. He hated the Priest that delivered his Sunday sermons with fire and brimstone, but there were rumours that he enjoyed the secret company of young alter boys when no one was around. It had been twenty five years since he last set foot in this very church, but it was still twenty five years too soon. The fact that none of his brothers and sisters had bothered to come to Uncle Wally's funeral suggest that this was not their place of choice either. In their defence, they weren't a close family. His mother and father had long since parted this earth. Two of his brothers were in prison and his sisters had long since deserted the neighbourhood and all its memories.

He turned his attention to the casket at the front in which his Uncle Wally lay. His mother's younger brother was his family favourite, an ox of a man quick with his fists and feared by most when in his prime. But he could make Billy laugh with his quick wit; and unlike his drunken father, looked after his young nephew and taught him the ways of the street. While being protective, Uncle Wally didn't shield him from the brutality of the street and taught how to fight and win. He instilled in him that his pride and reputation would only last until he lost his first battle. He instilled in him that when someone hit you hard, that there was no option but to get right back up and hit him harder. It was hard to imagine that his once strong uncle was now lying in a wooden box a few feet away, his once heavily muscled body replaced by a cancer ridden emaciated frame.

Billy had grown up strong and determined, at the age of fourteen he was the king of the block, the one to fear and avoid if he was not your friend. It was his fourteenth year that he came to the notice Eric Hagg, a small time criminal in real terms, but big enough to be the local kingpin. Billy began his criminal career running errands for Hagg, his honesty and reliability putting him in good stead with his employer. Billy grew up fast, his body hard and muscled, an enjoyment of violence and easy money mapped out his future. At the tender age of twenty, Billy had become Billy's right hand man, a mixture of cunning and intelligence a real asset to him. It was narcotics that made Billy; he could see the ever increasing demand for drugs was going to be lucrative for suppliers. Eric watched his young protégé cast his net block by block taking more and more control of the illegal trade. As the years passed by, Billy became a rich man by local standards, although he was careful not to flaunt his financial success which had caused the downfall of many before him.

Billy was twenty eight years old when Eric Hagg was shot dead by the jealous husband of his new adulteress lover. Then followed the battle for Eric's now formidable turf; it was a battle that Billy had little chance of ever winning. Billy watched as the battle between rival gangs took a savage toll. Knowing that he would always be seen as Eric's man, his loyalties would be questioned and his life therefore in danger. On a cool chilly autumn morning, Billy wisely packed his bags and left town. Had he stayed, the pickings might have been good, but not good enough to lose your life over.

A year later Billy was living in sunny Miami, and little by little he began building another little empire. He set up bogus companies to hide his earnings from drugs, but was careful to keep a low profile. As the years passed by, he befriended local crime families, and worked alongside them but carefully stayed in his own little niche market. Billy soon owned a nice beachside home and nice cars, the off shore bank accounts made him a very contented man. Two wives came and went; the first not prepared to put up with his unpredictable moods and his blatant womanising. The second wife might have been willing to put up with his philandering ways, but when an unremorseful Billy shot dead two drug crazed intruders who entered their home, enough was enough. Before then, Billy had craved his privacy and resisted the need for personal body guards, but he knew those days were over. He brought in Mickey, a hard hulking ex-soldier with a propensity for violence, and Carlos a streetwise Latino who had been in his loyal employment for some years. From that time on, wherever Billy was, you could count on Mickey and Carlos not being too far away.

Billy's mind wandered as the Catholic priest stood before Uncle Wally's coffin and spoke of the good in his life. Most recognised the truth was somewhat exaggerated, but nodded in respect for the deceased. It was the name of Rhea that suddenly dragged Billy back to reality, a name that he not heard for many years. He turned his head towards the isle as a tall blonde woman stood and walked towards the large organ to the left of the church. He watched as she slid effortlessly onto the stool and after pushing a few buttons, placed her hands onto the keyboards. The sound unmistakable sound of Eric Clapton's 'Tears in Heaven' flooded the auditorium causing Billy to smile, for back in the early days Uncle Wally was Eric Clapton's biggest fan. From where Billy was seated back in the middle of the congregation he recognised the beauty of Rhea McPhee. Unlike most of those he knew here, the years had been good to her. A mane of thick blonde hair cut stylishly above her exquisite facial features, the black dress hugging her curvy body. His eyes moved downwards to where her shapely calves and ankles moved effortlessly across the pedals of the organ.

Billy's interest grew as he thought back to his school days. While a couple of years older than Rhea McPhee, they had attended the same high school for a time. She was stunningly beautiful back then, but seemed almost uncomfortable with her looks. The only place Rhea felt entirely comfortable in the limelight was at the piano. When it came to music, she could play anything from the classics to rock. Her parents were good Catholics too, she was often asked to play the organ in church, although what she played was always carefully scrutinised beforehand.

Back then, there wasn't a boy in the school that hadn't fantasised about climbing aboard Rhea McPhee and taking her for a ride, Billy included. It wasn't from a lack of trying on Billy's part, but Rhea wanted nothing to do with him. She was fully aware of Billy's reputation and lustful intentions, and avoided him as best she could. Had an opportunity arose; Billy would have been tempted to force himself upon her. But her father was a burly tough no nonsense State Trooper, and there would have been serious consequences for him had he done so. The few times when Billy had got close and familiar, Rhea had stared him down with hardened eyes and cast him aside. One part of Billy admired Rhea for her strength of character, the other wanted to slap her to the ground.

Rhea played two songs, the second as the casket was carried down the aisle to the waiting hearse. Billy joined the throng of people as they left the church, to the side stood Mickey and Carlos both smoking as usual. They flicked their cigarettes into the garden and straightened in respect as Uncle Wally was lifted into the hearse. Billy stood confidently at the top of the steps where he could be seen. He wanted people see the cut of his fine clothes, he wanted to brag of his success and remind them of their own failings. He smiled as Mickey and Carlos moved closer to him, further demonstrating how important he was to the world. He waited until everyone moved towards their vehicles as the hearse started to move away from the church. At the graveside, Billy caught sight of Rhea and moved to her side, she looked across at him briefly before turning her attention as the Priest said his last words. Billy ran his eyes over her, not missing the wedding and engagement rings on her left hand.

There seemed to be less tension in the air after the casket was lowered into the grave, and people began to move away and chat. Billy mixed and mingled with those he knew; he shook hands and pretended interest of their insignificant life stories. He answered politely the questions that were asked of him. Eventually he steered himself towards Rhea who was in conversation with a dowdy woman he didn't know.

"Hello Rhea, it's good to see you again." he offered politely.

She turned and looked at him, "Hello Billy. I'm surprised to see you here."

The woman Rhea had been talking to took one look at Billy, and turned made her way to another group leaving the two of them alone.

"So how have you been?" he asked.

"I'm fine Billy."

"Kind of surprised to see you're still living around here, thought you'd been long gone from this shit hole by now."

Her eyes blazed with anger, "Why's that Billy? This place not good enough for you anymore, or is it us?"

Billy chuckled, "Look around you Rhea, it's like the living dead. There's old Johnny Fowler, remember him with his big ideas? The only thing big about him is the belly hanging over his guts. And what about Suzie Walstead, used to be a real good looker, now she looks like a beached whale."

"They're still good people Billy. Better than you'll ever be."

Billy's smile faded, and he glared into the insolent eyes of Rhea McPhee. He felt the rage build inside of him.

"You've still got a high opinion of yourself Rhea; just remember that your old man isn't around to protect you anymore."

"You threatening me Billy, cause if you are I'm not scared. Wasn't scared of you before, and I'm certainly not now. You might think yourself all high and mighty, but you're nothing to me Billy and never will be."

"You're not much to me either Rhea, back then I just wanted to fuck you. I'm not sure that I'd bother now. Probably be a useless fuck."

Billy watched with satisfaction as Rheas face dropped in disgust, he leaned closer before she could react and step back away from him.

"I bet you like it up the arse." he whispered. "I bet that husband of yours loves to shove it right up your big fat arse just to hear you scream. Come to think of it, I might like to give you one up the arse too, what do you reckon?"

Billy always prided himself on his quick reactions, but Rhea's hand lashed his face with the speed of lightening, the force knocking him of balance causing him to stumble. He heard the surprise and sniggers of those who witnessed it. He turned and looked in surprise at Rhea, a vain smile appearing on her face.

"Should've done that a long time ago Billy."

It took a second for the fury to build up inside him, his clenched fist lifting as he took a step towards her. But Rhea stood her ground, and stared defiantly back at him.

"Go on Billy, give me your best shot."

A flurry of male support headed towards Billy confident in their strength of numbers. Billy landed one good punch on one of them before the power of numbers began to overwhelm him. But the swift arrival of Mickey and Carlos evened the odds, the sight of their drawn handguns causing their swift withdrawal to a safe distance. Billy turned to find Rhea still standing in front of his face.

"What are you going to do Billy now, shoot me?" she asked with pure venom in her voice. "What a big man you are Billy. Still all mouth, only difference is that these scum bags to back you up. It about time you grew up."

Billy stared back at Rhea as he straightened his shirt and jacket, he smiled grimly.

"I'd still like to fuck you, maybe up the arse just to hear you squeal." he whispered.

"In your dreams Billy, only in your dreams." replied Rhea before turning and walking away.

The humiliation of that day haunted Billy for a long time. He had never been subjected to anyone treating him that way. He'd had killed for less, and slowly but surely his rage festered inside him. He knew that he had to even the score, he wanted to hurt Rhea McPhee; he wanted to see the pain in her face for what she did to him. As the weeks passed, he knew in his mind that that he wouldn't rest until he had taken his revenge.

After a great deal of contemplation, Billy dispatched Carlos to find out more about Rhea. A week later he had all he needed. She had married a farmer Brian Mitchell, and lived not far out of town. Billy rolled the name of Brian Mitchell over and over in his mind, but he was unknown to him from his old school days. The farmhouse was isolated Carlos told him, and Brian a slight man would not be too much of a problem so long as firearms were not involved. This was all good news for Billy; it was time to make the bitch pay.

It was late in the afternoon when Mickey guided his Chevy into the farm driveway. Brian Mitchell was quickly removed from his tractor and punched to the ground before being restrained with nylon ties and his mouth duct taped. He was then placed into the back of the Chevy for the short drive to the farmhouse. With Mickey on one elbow and Carlos on the other, Brian Mitchell was guided effortlessly through the open back door.

The look on Rhea's face was something that Billy would never forget, for she knew in an instant that something very bad was about to happen. She backed up against kitchen wall and made a grab for the wall mounted phone, but Billy was too quick and dragged her away causing her to fall to the hard wooden floor.

"Please no Billy, please no, I'm sorry." she cried trying to scurry away.

"Hello Rhea, it must be real good to see me again." he said taking a firm hold of her arm and guiding her to her feet. "You and me gonna have some fun. See, no one treats me like you did and gets away with it, no one."

"Please no Billy, I didn't mean it. Please don't do this."

Billy grinned cruelly as he looked Rhea over, a cut off tee shirt exposing tan skin above her belt less jeans and bare feet below. Her husband Brian now regaining his senses on the floor, lashed out at Mickey with his steel capped boots catching him hard just below the knee. Mickey retaliated with a brutal kick catching Brian squarely in the ribs with such force that he rolled across the floor. It took a second or two for Mickey to recover from Brian's kick, but then took two steps to him and drew his handgun. Rhea screamed as Mickey placed the barrel against his head and pushed hard.

"Fuck you." Mickey yelled as he moved the barrel sideways a mere inch and pulled the trigger, the hollow nose shell just missing Brian's head, easily penetrating the wooden floor and burying itself in the dirt below, the crack of the gunshot deafening him.

"Noooo." Rhea screamed launching herself at her prostate husband, only to be pulled back by Billy's tight grip of her arm.

He dragged her backwards onto a chair and then knelt beside her, "So Rhea, how much do you love your husband?"

She began to sob uncontrollably, but it brought her nothing but a smirk from Billy.

"You're nothing but a stuck up bitch, but I'm gonna bring you back to earth." Billy whispered into her ear. "I'm gonna offer you a one time deal. I'm gonna let you fuck me, and that buys you and hubby's lives. But if you don't want to fuck me, that's fine too, cause I'll shoot you both right now without a second thought. So my lovely Rhea, what do you think?"

Rhea looked at Billy pleadingly, but her big tear filled eyes only fuelled his lust. Right now there was only one thing on his mind, he want nothing more than to fuck this woman senseless.

Billy smiled, "So Rhea, what's it going to be, a long life or a quick death?"

Billy held her stare, and he could see the steely resolution appear in her eyes.

"I hate you Billy Deacon, I hated you back then, and I hate you now. I'm a married woman, this is wrong. Married women don't fuck other men, me included, so go to hell. I'd rather die first."

Billy grinned wickedly, "Hey Carlos, hold her for minute."

Carlos stepped over and firmly took hold of Rhea's arm. Billy reached behind his back and removed a snub nose Colt revolver from his belt. Holding it in front of Rhea's face, Billy released the cylinder outwards and emptied the shells into his hand, then replaced only one. After securing the cylinder he spun it twice with the palm of his hand.

"Ever heard of Russian Roulette Rhea? There's five chambers in this little baby, four are empty, ones not. Big question is which one.

Billy knelt at Rhea's husband's side, his eyes widened as the barrel was placed at his forehead. Billy looked up at Rhea as he squeezed the trigger, her scream louder than the metallic click as the hammer fell on the empty chamber. Billy laughed; he'd made sure the loaded chamber was at the bottom of the cylinder before pulling the trigger. Brian squirmed in fear and had to be further restrained by Mickey.

"This is a great game eh Rhea?" Billy chuckled as he again placed the barrel against Brian's head, "What's say we play it again."

"No Billy, don't." Rhea offered in a quiet raspy voice. "I'll do it."

Billy retained the snub nosed barrel against Brian's head, "Do what Rhea, what do you want to do."

"You can fuck me." she replied.

Billy shook his head, "Doesn't sound very appealing to me Rhea. You'll have to do better than that."

She took a deep breath, "I want you to fuck me Billy."

Billy smiled, "That's not bad Rhea, but I think you can do a little better. Try again."

Rhea lowered her eyes to the floor for a few seconds, her breathing laboured.

"Billy Deacon, I want to you to fuck me." she said in a low sultry voice.

Billy got to his feet wearing a big grin, "That's much better. Well Rhea, I thought this day would never come, and seeing as you asked so nicely, I'll do it."

"Two conditions Billy." Rhea said with more confidence than she felt. "First that you keep your promise to let us live, and secondly that it's just you an me. I don't want anyone else there when we do it."

"You sure your husband doesn't wanna watch? Some guys get off on watching their wives gettin it on with some one else."

Cold eyes suggested that his attempt on humour was lost on her.

Billy shrugged his shoulders, "Sure, if that's what you want, it's just you and me."

"And we get to live?"

Billy's face hardened, "I may be a many things Rhea, a liar I'm not. But be warned, this all ends after we leave. If you complain to the cops, I'll be back and things will go very badly for both of you. Just remember, you two are the only witnesses and with both of you gone there's no case. I'll have a watertight alibi for today. I'll have people that will swear black and blue that me and the boys here were five hundred miles away. This is all about me getting even, once this is done, I'll leave you alone. That's a promise."