Buck Dilly wheeled his battered sedan down the lonely streets of the Strand looking for the old Colonial home that once belonged to Admiral Anderson and was now occupied by that son-of-a-bitch son of his, Bert.
It was almost four in the morning and the booze circulating in his arteries was taking its toll. He cursed under his breath, gripping the steering wheel and blinking hard at the road ahead illuminated by the cars headlights.
He would kill the daughter of his. The sneaky, little cunt running away from home. He swallowed hard wishing that he had brought the second hip flask along with him. His hunch had paid off; there was only one Nick Adams in the Strand and he was a big son-of-a-bitch who damn near took his head off! What a temper! Buck chuckled because old man Adams was peeved and would wring his stupid son's neck.
Unfortunately, the kid wasn't home and neither was his daughter. Which left him flat out in the cold without a lead. Where did he go from here? Buck didn't have the answer. Nick Adams had a convertible and could be anywhere by now. Hell, he could be halfway to Nevada with big plans to marry Alice for all he knew. And the catch was, Buck couldn't lift a finger against Nick, couldn't call the cops – nothing because his fourteen year old swimming queen might blow the whistle on him. Damn! He felt mad enough to kill!
Dill turned away from Adam's house and circled back to the hamburger stand. There was always the chance that Nick Adams might come back and pick up the burgers after fucking his daughter. A very slim chance. So he was very surprised to see the maroon convertible parked at the hamburger stand and the lanky, figure of Nick Adams Jr. slumped at the counter jaw boning with the pimply faced kid. A light went on in the back of his brain and he swung the car through the driveway up over the curb and straight at Nick Adams.
When Adams turned around, he saw the chrome plated grill of a late model sedan coming straight at his mid-section. He froze in place and started to scream. So did Algernon behind the counter. The high pitched wail of their two voices was drown out, by the screech of brakes as the two tons of metal came to a halt inches from them.
Buck was out of the car and had a hand full of Nick Adams coat before the kid could pass out. He slammed Adams against the plexiglass bubble covering the hamburger stand and kneed him in the balls. Adams drooped in his hands like an old dishrag.
"I'm Buck Dilly and you've got my daughter," he shouted. "Now where is she?" Adams' dilated eyes stared at the gleaming bumper and imagined how horrible the pain would be when it made contact with his puny body. His bones and flesh would be plastered all over Mel's hamburger stand and it would take weeks to pick up all his remains and put them in a plastic body bag. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach, his nuts screaming with pain and he looked up at Buck and decided to talk before his life was snuffed out.
Buck had listened, then dropped the kid and went back to his car. "Hey, asshole," he yelled at the pimply kid whose face shrieked with fright. "If you call the cops, I'll be back."
Algernon who only waited around so he'd get fired and be eligible for unemployment, nodded his head. "No cops. I didn't see a thing."
"Good," Buck replied simply, "Very good." Then he backed out, wheeling the car into the street and took off with a screech of burning tire rubber.
Buck had known the Admiral and had done some landscaping work for the old fart, but it had been years ago and now he couldn't find the house. He drove down one block, crossed over a street and down the next. Every street looked familiar, but locating the house was something else. It was like a vivid dream whose details receded into a blur upon waking. It had been years since Buck had been in the neighborhood. Once he had considered buying a house in the area and he had made it a point to go door to door introducing himself to his prospective neighbors. Then he had hit the bottle, his architect's job went out the window and he had moved into the tiny, joint where he currently lived. Now those great, big, old two-story, neo-colonial brick homes seemed foreign, almost hostile to him.
Buck had gone from being a prospective neighbor to a foreigner. He had to be careful or someone might spot his car cruising slowly down the tree shaded street and call the cops.
He rounded another block and cruised close to the curb. Suddenly, he stopped and looked. A two story house with wood siding and a shake roof caught his eye. Except for the brick chimney and the ornate shutters at the windows, it appeared no different from the other places he had seen. Then he eyed the Juniper tree at the side of the house and his heart missed a beat. Buck knew the house all right because he had planted that tree along with the green ivy shrubs and the Japanese rock garden on each side of the flagstone walkway. He pulled up quietly, turned off the engine and quietly opened the door. There were owls hooting from their perch in the Juniper. He walked low, breathing hard through his mouth, staying on the soft grass as he approached the house.
It was the house all right. He knew that for certain. Then he heard the girl screaming inside and followed by the reckless laughter of his daughter.
His dick went hard.