(Here's part of a published story. I'll continue it if you're interested. I don't know what's going on with the f**cked up formatting. Will fix soon. Not for the faint of heart)
Brooke Rosenberger answered her cell phone on the third ring.
I?ve got another run for you, babe,? Jack Schmitt growled on the other end. ?And this one?s for nine o?clock tomorrow night. I?ll give you the goods and directions when you pick it up tomorrow. Be here at two.?
But I?ve got a doctor?s appointment tomorrow at that time.?
I don?t care if you?re mother?s funeral is tomorrow, get your little ass over here at noon.?
Brooke sighed. ?Okay. I?ll see if I can switch my appointment.?
?Yeah, you do that.?
Jack hung up. Brooke just shook her head. This was going to be her last run. She couldn?t do this anymore. It was too dangerous. And she risked her future real estate career if she kept running drugs much longer.
Yeah. She?d really screwed up dating her current boyfriend Nick. He was a biker who wasn?t affiliated with any of the major motorcycle gangs?just a local outfit out of Cincinnati. But he was still required to help with one of the side ventures to raise money, and he?d chosen drug dealing.
He?d tricked her into making the first run four months ago, saying it was an errand for a friend. She became suspicious when the guy handed her $700 for the package. She was so stupid! But Nick was everything she was looking for from a physical standpoint?6?5,? muscular and more handsome than Fabio in his heyday. But tomorrow she was going to tell him she wanted out.
Quitting on your old man could get you killed as a biker chick in a traditional motorcycle gang. But the dopes in Nick?s ragtag unit were nothing but a bunch of drunken hillbillies. Besides, she was going to move to Florida and sell real estate as soon as she got her real estate license. She?d just completed her coursework at the University of Cincinnati last week.
It hadn?t been easy on her the past four years. She had an apartment in Hyde Park and it wasn?t cheap. And since she lived alone, she had to pay her bills and support her schooling somehow. Besides making an occasional run for Nick, she worked as an exotic dancer for a gentleman?s club in Indiana.
It was a classy joint and the place was far enough away that she didn?t run into any people she knew. Just some sexy pole dancing and occasional ass shaking and she had the guys eating out of the palms of her hand.
The cash came in droves and she?d socked away plenty for the move to the Sunshine State. She also owned a 2010 gun metal ?Vette that she coveted as much as any house pet she?d ever owned. The money became addicting, even more than her initial crush on Nick. But now it was time to say adios to her beau as well as his lowlife boss, Jack Frickin Schmitt. What an asshole.
Brooke woke up around ten a.m. on Thursday. Her head was killing her from the two beers she?d consumed after work. She tossed a couple ibuprofen into her mouth, washed them down with a glass of water and hopped in the shower. Twenty minutes later, she put on a pair of snug blue jeans, threw on a sleeveless top and donned her black biker jacket.
She walked outside her apartment as a cool breeze swept through the parking lot, gently caressing her long blonde hair. It was mid-May and the temperature was expected to top 80 degrees later. But it was still fairly cool this morning. So wearing her jacket with the zipper undone was perfect attire.
Brooke arrived at Jack?s ramshackle bungalow at ten till two. He answered the door and waved her in. The apartment smelled of beer, pot and what she thought was piss. But maybe her senses were too fucked up to get a true read on the latter. She?d started smoking again the past couple months and her senses were off. Still, the guy was a long-haired slob of about fifty?thin, balding and as ugly as ?possum.
?This deal?s for one grand exactly,? he said. He hockered as he cleared his gravelly voice. ?I don?t want you showing back up here with nine hundred seventy-five bucks in your jeans. It?s one grand even or it?s your ass. Understood??
?Yes, sir.? The response came out a bit meekly. He glared at her. Despite being a weasel, he still intimidated Brooke. And at five-four and one hundred eight pounds, most people weren?t the least bit threatened by her. That?s probably why Nick had used her for the runs.
But what most people didn?t know was that she had earned a second degree black belt in taekwondo five years ago, and still practiced at the studio two nights per week. She also did Tae Bo one night per week. So, yes, Brooke Rosenberger was more than capable of taking care of herself.
Brooke called her best friend Trisha Vest twenty minutes after she got home.
?Hello.?
?Trisha, it?s me.?
?Hey, woman! What?s shaking??
?I?ve got another run to make,? said Brooke. ?Can you go with me??
?What time??
?Nine.?
?Don?t you have to work tonight?? said Trisha.
?No, I?m off.?
?I have to go in at six to work the bar for a couple hours for Judy. She has to leave early. But I guess I can go with you.?
?I?d feel better about it,? said Brooke, ?knowing I had someone to watch my back.?
?Okay. We taking the Corvette??
?Yeah.?
?Where?re we headed??
?Some place on Central Avenue,? said Brooke. She pulled the directions from the back pocket of her jeans. ?It doesn?t say. The address is 8-4-3 Central.?
?No way.?
?What do you mean??
?That?s near downtown,? said Trisha. ?The Jesters never sell anything down there. They?d be encroaching on some of the black gangs in town.?
?Jack said the place was in Clifton.? Brooke looked at her directions again. ?You?re probably right, though. I didn?t pay much attention to it before.?
?I know I?m right.?
?Maybe the buyers just want to meet down there or something.?
?Let?s hope so,? said Trisha. ?Maybe I should drive.?
?Yeah, that heap of yours would be less conspicuous.?
Trish laughed. ?I?ll be over at eight o?clock.?
?Thanks, Trisha.?
?You bet.? She hung up.
Brooke had met Trisha four years ago at the bar. She was also a dancer but didn?t have any future plans beyond that. She was dating a former biker who had just proposed to her. They were getting married in the fall and moving to Kentucky.
Trisha arrived at Brooke?s apartment at 8:15 p.m. She wore tight indigo Levi?s and a black Harley shirt. She was slim like Brook but a couple inches taller. Brooke hugged her when she stepped inside her apartment.
?Talk about conspicuous,? said Brooke.
?What, the shirt??
?Well, yeah.?
?I just threw it on,? said Trisha. ?Besides, we?ll probably be down there and back in a jiffy. No worries.?
?All right,? said Brooke. ?Let me get my purse. I have the stuff in it.?
?Drugs??
?Yeah. I just don?t like to think about it.? Trisha laughed. ?Some drug dealer you are.?
Brook shook her head. ?I?m not a dealer. Just a deliverer. But not for long.?
They headed to Trisha?s car, a twenty year-old green Buick in desperate need of a paint job. Both doors squeaked when you opened them.
The car backfired when Trisha started it, then started chuffing blue exhaust.
?Ever had this beater tuned up?? said Brooke, amid the din of the engine. The carbon, sulfuric and carcinogenic chemicals from the exhaust wafted inside the car. Brooke coughed as Trisha shifted the car into reverse.
?Once every couple years.? Brooke laughed as Trisha drove through the parking lot. She then looked down and placed her forehead in her hands as they passed a couple guys in the parking lot. Hopefully, they hadn?t recognized her.
?What, my car embarrasses you??
?No. It?s just that . . .?
?Bull shit,? said Trisha. She laughed. ?I understand, though. It is a junker.?
?A real heap,? Brooke added.
They were on 71 South five minutes later, then Trisha took the second downtown exit. The sun was starting to set on the horizon, painting the sky with brilliant streaks of yellow and orange. The cumulus clouds gave it a sponge-painted effect, as if some artist had rendered it on a large canvass.
The car puttered to a stop at the stoplight, then rumbled as they waited for the green light. The engine groaned as Trisha made a right and another left, then drove passed an old garage and gas station. After taking the next right, they found Central Avenue four blocks down.
?Right or left.?
?Right,? said Brooke, as she studied the directions. Jack said it?s about two miles down on the right, whatever it is.?
?We should?ve checked our cell phones,? said Trisha.
?I thought about it, but I didn?t want to know where I was going.?
?Why??
?I just prefer it that way.?
?Whatever,? said Trisha. She scratched her nose with her left hand.
Brooke looked for the street address as they neared the two-mile mark. She hadn?t seen a sole since they turned onto Central. And they were just now passing an abandoned shopping center on the right with boarded-up windows. A large rusty sign was perched against a thick post, where wires hung down like tendrils from a dead jellyfish. Overgrown grass sprouted through cracks in the front lot.
?I?m a tenth a mile away, according to the odometer.?
?I think I see a building up ahead on the right,? said Brooke. The multistory edifice loomed into view.
?It looks like a school,? said Trisha. She slowed down. Brooke glanced at the faded white moniker on front of the old building, just as the sun dipped below the horizon to the left of the school. Several of the windows were broken on the top two levels, and some graffiti was scribbled on the side of the large unit.
?Slow down,? said Brooke.
?I?m going fifteen miles per hour.?
?Then go ten.?
?Yes, ma?am.? Trisha pumped the brakes, which let out an abrupt squeal. ?It?s a high school.?
?Yeah, it sure is. It looks like . . . a . . . Roosevelt High.? Brooke felt a lump in her throat as Trisha turned into the deserted front parking lot.
?This feels weird,? said Trisha, as she made a right into the parking lot.
?What??
?Why would Jack send you to a high school??
?I don?t know,? said Brooke. ?But this isn?t just any high school.?
?What do you mean??
?It?s got a reputation as being the toughest school in the city?maybe even the state,? said Brooke. ?Kids fight all the time. And they have to practically beg teachers to work here.?
?I can see why. Look at the busted-out windows.?
?I know. School?s out now so anything can happen down here.?
?Where should I park??
?Pull up to the front of the building.? The car jolted forward as Trish stepped on the accelerator. The engine continued to rumble as they neared one of the middle parking spots by the front steps. It then died before Trisha could get between the lines.
?Are you out of gas?? said Brooke.
?No, I got it earlier.?
?Then what?s wrong??
Trisha turned the ignition. It didn?t start. Brooke felt her heart leap just before Trisha turned the ignition again. The heap finally kicked on but the engine puttered as Trisha pulled into her chosen spot.
?Are we going to get stuck here?? said Brooke.
?No. I?ll get it started,? said Trisha. ?I always do.?
Darkness had set in by the time the Brooke stepped out of the car, and the temperature had cooled to about seventy. They were a few minutes early.
?What now?? said Trisha, as Brooke stood with the passenger side door open. The car pinged at three-second intervals.
?I don?t know. I?ll check the front door. I thought I saw something stuck to the window when I looked up there before. It could?ve just been my imagination, but I?ll go check.?
?Okay. But make it quick. This place is creeping me out.?
Brooke got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Her cowboy boots clacked across the sidewalk as she made her way to the front steps. She ascended all twenty of them, then walked between two faded and paint-splintered pillars toward the wooden door. She saw a note taped to one of the glass panes. She pulled her cell out of her front right jeans pocket and shone it at the note.
?Yo! Come to rear of the school. Third door down,? the note said. Brooke slipped her phone back into her pocket as she descended the steps. She thought she heard a gunshot in the distance as she opened the passenger door.
?We have to go to the back of the school.?
?This just keeps getting better,? said Trisha. She pulled her keys out of the ignition and stuffed them in her purse.
?Yeah. But I?m glad you came.?
?I?m not.?
The two blondes walked around the side of the building, then made their way to the back. As they rounded the corner, Brooke spotted the outlines of a high chain-linked fence with the aid of a lone telephone pole light. It resembled a prison ground with an enclosed basketball court. The backboard, which was missing a strip along the left edge, was attached to a short slanted pole that ran through the fence to the longer vertical pole on the other side. Beyond the nine-foot high fence, house lights shone through tiny windows in the far distance.
?The third door is actually the last one,? said Trisha, breaking Brooke?s reverie away from the distant terrain. Brooke gazed to her right. ?And it?s actually the last door.? Trisha sighed.
?What?s wrong??
?Why didn?t they just say last door before the fence??
?I don?t know,? said Brooke. ?You think I?m a mind reader or something??
?Tes-ty.?
?I?m just on edge, Trisha, as the two made their way across a strip of grass. ?I?m doing this last run, then I?m out of the business. I shouldn?t have even gotten started with this shit.?
?Okay. I understand. And I?m all for making this a quick in and out.?
?I second that.?
They approached the last door before the enclosed fence and stepped on a short sidewalk. Brooke walked up to the metal door, paused a second and knocked. No one answered. She knocked a second time.
Ten seconds later, the door opened. At first, Brooke couldn?t see anyone because the inside light was so dim. Then she spotted a tall black girl near the wall behind the door. She hesitated a second with Trisha at her heels.
?Well, you coming in or not?? said the girl. She was young. Probably one of the students. Brooke stepped into the room, followed by Trisha. The girl then led them around the corner. That?s when Brooke realized they were in the girl?s locker room, which was a bit more illuminated than the entryway.
?Who are you?? said Brooke.
The girl turned around. She was at least six-feet tall. She eyed Brooke, then looked above her head. When Brooke turned around, she saw three other black girls standing behind Trisha. They had obviously been following them the past minute. Two were short and heavyset. The other girl, who was of mixed race but predominate Afro- American features, was about six-six and as wide as a barn door. The girl must?ve weighed at least four hundred fifty pounds. She glared at Brooke as she looked down at her. Brooke?s throat churned. Trisha grabbed a hold of her shoulder and took a step back. Her throat also churned.
?Who are you people?? said Brooke.
?You people,? said the tall, fat girl. ?That?s not very polite, coming in here and insulting our race.?
?That?s not what I meant.?
?Then what did you mean?? said the girl, as she approached Brooke. Trisha didn?t say a word. She moved back a couple more steps as the girl stopped three feet from them.
?Look, I have the drugs in my purse. Just pay me the money, I?ll give you the stuff and we?ll leave.?
The fat girl scanned both women from coif to boots, then looked over at the thinner tall girl.
?What do you think, Latisha, should we pay these white Buffy-ass hos and let ?em go??
?Nah.?
?What?? cried Brooke.
?I say we have us some fun first.?
Brooke?s heart starting racing. Trisha?s face paled. She looked sick.
?Relax, little biker chick,? said the huge girl, as she placed her meaty paw on Brooke?s shoulder. Her moon-size face beamed. Fat from her chest and stomach bobbled as she chuckled. ?I?m just jiving you. Come on in and stay awhile.?
?No, we have to go,? said Brooke.
?Stay awhile,? the girl said?this time in a deeper tone that sent chills up Brooke?s spine. ?I insist.?
?We?ll stay,? said Trisha, holding her hands out. ?For a little while anyway.? Brooke glanced at her friend, then back at the girl.
?That?s the spirit. Take a load off. Have a seat on the bench over there and I?ll get the money.? The girl raised her large arm and pointed to a bench between some lockers. ?I?m Rosie by the way. Rosie Thacker.?
?Brooke Rosenberger. And this is my friend Trisha Vest.?
?Good names for a couple white biker chicks,? said the girl.
?We?re not really biker chicks,? said Brooke.
?Tight blue jeans. This one here?s wearing a Harley shirt.? She pointed at Trisha. Her friend?s throat churned. ?You certainly dress the part.?
?We date bikers but aren?t really . . . oh whatever,? said Brooke. ?We?re biker chicks, I guess.?
?Yes, you are,? said Rosie. ?Take a seat and I?ll be right back. Sorry the accommodations aren?t any better. School?s out now and the janitor, who?s my uncle, let us lock up. We?ve been shooting some hoops in the gym.?
?You also have one out back, I saw,? said Brooke. She smiled, feeling a bit more relaxed.
?That we do,? said Rosie. She waddled out of the room, barely fitting through the doorway.
The other girls moved closer to the women, but didn?t say anything.
?So, what are you girls, seniors?? said Trisha.
?Rosie and I just graduated," said the tall girl. These two will be seniors in the fall.? Tricia glanced over at the doorway, then looked at Brooke. ?How ?bout you two??
?Our ages??
?Yeah.?
?I?m twenty-nine,? said Brooke, ?and Trisha?s a year younger.?
?I see,? said Latisha. ?So, you?re old in other words.?
?That?s right.? Brooke chuckled, as she sat down on the long wooden bench.
Trisha glanced at the two heavy girls as she straddled the narrow bench, still facing the tall girl. ?What are your names?? said Trisha.
?None of your business,? one said.
?Oh,? said Trisha. ?I guess it isn?t.?
?No, it ain?t, Harley bitch.?
?Oh, the shirt.? Trisha looked down and swiped the front of her shirt with her long nails. The heavy girls rolled their eyes.
Brooke glanced over at the two girls.
?What are you looking at, bitch?? the same girl said. Brooke turned her head and stared through the doorway that Rosie had exited. It looked like it led to an exit on the far right and into a hallway. She saw a faint tint of red light in the distance.
No one said anything for several minutes. Brook finally broke the silence.
?What?s taking Rosie so long??
?Dunno,? Latisha said. ?But you need to relax.?
?I?m just trying to make conversation.?
?Well, I?m not interested in making conversation with two white biker whores who sell drugs to kids.?
?We don?t sell drugs,? said Brooke. She stood up.
?Sit your ass back down.? Brooke didn?t listen to her. She placed her hands on her hips and just stared at the girl.
?Oh, so you wanna go, white bitch?? said the girl. ?I?ll level you right now with one swing. And Tiny over there will just squash your friend there like a gnat.?
?We?re not looking for a fight,? said Brooke. ?I just want to get out of here.?
Trisha stood up as one of the two girls walked toward the back door. Latisha eyed the girl as she stopped, turned around and nodded.
?What the hell?s going on here?? said Tricia, as she approached the tall girl.
?Come on, bitch. Bring it!? She raised her fists. That?s when Rosie walked back in the room.
?Hey, what?s going on, Latisha?? said Rosie, as she waddled toward Trisha. Brooke stood a few feet behind her. Trisha backed up and almost stepped on her left boot.
?These two bitches want to fight,? she said. She smirked as Rosie looked at Trisha and then Brooke.
?Is that true??
?No,? said Brooke. ?We just need to get going.? Rosie approached her. Brooke took a step back.
?I thought I told you to relax until I got the money.?
?I was . . .?
?Look here, Rosie Thatcher, or whatever your name is,? said Trisha, as she approached the girl. She then pointed at her. ?You need to just give us the money and we?ll leave. It?s that simple.?
?Is that right?? said Rosie. She looked down at Trisha and chuckled.
?Yeah,? said Trisha, nodding her head. Brooke saw her throat churn, and she knew Rosie saw it.
Rosie smirked. ?My name?s Thacker, bitch, and I don?t like your tone.?
?Too bad,? said Trisha.
?Come on, Trisha,? said Brooke. ?Settle down.?
?I?m just tired of this shit. These girls never had any intention of paying us. They?re up to something.? Brooke looked at Rosie. The behemoth glanced above Brooke?s head at the two girls behind her, then smirked again.
?I am a little short on cash,? she said, widening her eyes.
?Yeah, I bet,? said Trisha.
?I?m getting a little sick of you, skinny bitch,? said Rosie, as she stepped toward Trisha.
?Screw you, fatso.?
?Wooooo,? one of the shorter girls whispered.
?Okay, that?s it.? Rosie gritted her teeth.
?Hey, I?m an adult and demand some respect,? shouted Trisha. ?Give us the money and we?ll give you the . . .?
Brooke was stunned as she watched Trisha rant. She couldn?t believe she had gone off like she had. She was normally more laid back. But before she could say anything?and before Trisha completed her sentence?Rosie?s thick hand plopped down on her head with a thunk. The girl then grabbed a tuft of Trisha?s long blonde hair and pulled her toward her.
Trisha, now bent at the waist, slapped at the girl?s huge arms. But Rosie just laughed?a guffaw that sent shivers coursing through Brooke. Rosie then grabbed Trisha?s arms, swung her around and slammed her into one of the lockers.
?Uhhhhhhh!?
?Stop,? shouted Brooke, but Latisha grabbed her shoulders from behind and clutched them. Brooke couldn?t move.
Trisha stepped away from one of the lockers and staggered forward. Her mouth hung open. Rosie grabbed her arm and shirt, flung her around and slammed her into a locker on the other side of the aisle. In a flash, she slammed her against the locker on the opposite side again.
Trisha?s eyes rolled up in her head. Her forehead was bleeding from hitting one of the vents on the top row of lockers. This time, Trisha, now glassy-eyed and slack-jawed, staggered toward Brooke.
?Please stop!? shouted Brooke, as she tried to free herself from the tall girl?s grasp. She then stomped on the girl?s foot. Brooke charged forward.
The girl let out a yelp about the same time Rosie?s fist connected with Trisha?s jaw. Trisha flew eight feet across the room near the entryway wall. She just lay there on her stomach as the girl near the door moved toward her. The other one approached Trisha, then Latisha grabbed Brooke from behind as Rosie approached her. The tall girl applied a hammer lock on Brooke, then reached around and grabbed her by the front of the neck.
?No, this one?s mine,? said Rosie, as she grabbed Brooke?s belt buckle. ?You get the other bitch. Give her the royal treatment. You other two go with Latisha.?
?But . . .?
?Now!? shouted Rosie.
Brooke watched in horror as the two shorter girls picked Trisha up. Rosie held onto Brooke?s right arm. Trisha gasped for air as the girls held her arms behind her. A huge black and blue welt was pasted below her right eye. Her Harley shirt was hiked up above her belt buckle and Levi?s, exposing her thin waistline and pierced bellybutton.
?Get her ass out of here,? said Rosie. ?I?ll be back in five minutes.?
The heavy girls smirked as they dragged Trisha toward Latisha. The tall girl then grabbed Trisha?s elbow and marched her forward.
?Why are you doing this?? said Brooke, as she glared at Rosie.
?Because I don?t like white biker cxnts like you.?
?I didn?t do anything to you.?
?Oh, yes you did.?
Brooke shook her arm free of Rosie?s grip. Just then, she heard a thud. It sounded like fist hitting flesh. Trisha cried out a second later. Another thud was followed by a faint whimper.
?Let?s go,? said Rosie. She took a step toward Brooke. Brooke jumped back, planted her left boot on the floor and hit her in the stomach with a side kick. The blow had no effect. Her boot just bounced off six inches of belly fat. And the forward momentum of the girl knocked Brooke backward.
She had just placed her cowboy boot back down on the tiles, when the girl picked her up with a front bear hug, carried her across the room and slammed her into the back wall. Brooke dropped to her ass.
Rosie grabbed Brooke by her hair and pulled her to her feet. Brooke screamed. The huge girl then marched her toward another door ten feet away, opened it and shoved Brooke outside onto the basketball court.
Brooke when flying and landed on her right side. She heard the door slam shut as she tried to catch her breath. The girl had crushed the wind out of her.
Brooke tried to push herself up but Rosie punt-kicked her in the stomach and knocked her onto her back. She just lay there with arms and legs splayed on the concrete.
?I?ll tell you why we?re doing this,? Rosie shouted. ?We?ve had a few girls die down here because of drugs some bikers sold them. And when your stupid boss dialed the wrong number to my cell the other night, I saw an opportunity to send the bikers a message.?
?It wasn?t us,? said Brooke.
?I don?t care who it was,? said Rosie. ?All I know is some white biker cxnt was coming down here to deliver some shit and I was going to take it out on her ass. But two of you showed up, which is a real bonus for me. And that friend of yours is a real smart-ass, so I really enjoyed beating her.?
Brooke tried to push herself up. Rosie placed her large gym shoe on Brooke?s forehead and shoved her back. Brooke fell on her ass with her hands planted behind her, boot heels on the pavement.
?What are you going to do to Trisha??
?Oh, you want to see your friend??
?Yeah.?
?Good, because I?m not quite done with her yet. I just wanted to get a confession out of you first.?
?Like I said, I?ve never delivered drugs to any black girls before,? said Brooke.
?It doesn?t matter.?
?It does to me,? said Brooke. ?This is my last run, I swear. I?m done after this.?
?No, you?re done now.? Brooke?s heart skipped a beat. Despite her karate prowess, it seemed useless against this girl.
?We?ll finish this later,? said Rosie. ?Get up.?
Brooke pushed herself to her knees. Rosie bent down, grabbed her upper arm and pulled her to her feet. She dragged Brooke forward and shoved her toward the door. The force jarred Brooke?s neck. She moaned.
?You first, bitch.?
Brooke turned the doorknob and pulled it. It didn?t open.
?Here,? said Rosie, shoving Brooke aside. ?You need to get a little muscle behind it, which you obviously don?t have. It?s stubborn that way.?
Brooke glanced to her left. There was no gate in the fenced-in area.
?Don?t even think about it, bitch, because I?ll kill you on the spot.?
Brooke leaned against the outside wall. Rosie opened the door, pulled Brooke in front of her and shoved her inside. Brooke almost fell down but regained her balance. She walked straight ahead past the entryway, her tiny ass cheeks oscillating in the tight jeans.
?Where is she??
?Check a couple aisles over.?
Brooke walked alongside a couple rows of lockers. When she turned to her left about fifteen feet farther down, she saw Trisha lying face down. She was straddling a bench lengthwise with her arms hanging over the edges, her pink-polished fingernails touching the floor. Her hair was sopping wet. The three girls were standing around her. Latisha had her back to the rest room doorway.
?Is she out?? said Rosie.
?Not yet,? said Latisha. ?We just worked her over good for you. She also had a little run-in with the toilet.?
?A little dunking, hey,? said Rosie. She chuckled. Rosie tottered over and tapped Trisha on the back. ?You awake there, biker bitch?? Trisha didn?t move. ?I?m talking to you.? She saw the slight bulge in the right back pocket of Trisha?s Levi?s, so she reached inside it and pulled out a thin wallet. She checked inside the wallet and pulled out a three twenties and a couple tens. She pocketed the money, then tossed the wallet on the floor.
?Does she have a cell phone??
?I got it,? said Latisha.
?Good,? said Rosie. She slapped the back of Tricia?s wet head. ?Time to get up, bitch.?
Trisha moaned and turned her head. Water poured from her mouth and landed on the floor.
?Hey, don?t mess up our locker room,? shouted Rosie. ?You think getting your head dunked in a toilet was bad? Wait till I put you through phase two.? Rosie grabbed Trisha by the back of her hair.
?What are you doing?? said Brooke.
?Latisha, shut that bitch up,? said Rosie. Latisha walked over and grabbed Brooke?s arm, then engulfed her in a rear chokehold. Brooke gagged. She couldn?t fight back. And she was suddenly scared to death.
Rosie pulled Trisha to her feet. Trisha staggered as Rosie held onto her hair. Rosie shoved her into the wall near the shower. She then looked back at Brooke. Latisha had her knee against Brooke?s ass and was bending her body backward. Brooke just stared at Rosie as she spoke.
?I want you see firsthand what happens to white biker chicks that show up at my school, because you won?t see what I do to you.? She turned to face Trisha, who was leaning against the wall with her legs spread. She looked ready to pass out.
Rosie waited a couple seconds. She then cocked her arm back and punched Trisha in the mouth. Brooke grimaced. Latisha tightened her grip.
Trisha?s head flew back against the wall with a thud. Blood trickled down both sides of her mouth. A second punch slammed into her lips again. Then a third mashed her nose. Blood now covered her mouth and chin. The wall was the only thing holding her up.
Cussssssshh! A backhand crashed into Trisha?s temple and knocked her to the floor. She was sprawled on her stomach trying to crawl away, when Rosie walked over and stomped down on her ass.
?Oooooo,? cried Trisha, as she rolled to her back, holding her right hip. Blood poured down her cheeks and dripped to the floor.
?Please stop,? cried Brooke. ?You?re going to kill her.?
?You skinny biker hos would never make it down here in the hood. The high school and middle school girl?s would make mincemeat out of you.?
Rosie picked Trisha up. She then hunkered her large frame down and socked her in the gut. The blow echoed throughout the locker room. Trisha?s head fell forward. Rosie hooked her elbow around the back of her neck, tightened her grip and started punching Trisha in the face. She popped her six times. A wet mushy sound accompanied the last couple blows. Rosie then pulled Trisha?s head up and slammed her into the wall again.
?Uhhhhhh!?
?No skinny white biker chick ever disrespects me, you hear??
Trisha held her hands out for a second in defense, then they flung back against the wall; her face was now covered with blood.
?I can?t hear you, bitch.?
Trisha gasped for air. She couldn?t speak.
?I guess that?s a no.? Rosie leaned forward, palmed Trisha?s face with her large hand and slammed the back of her head against the wall. She then reached down, picked her up between the legs and hoisted her over her head.
?Please, let her go,? cried Brooke. ?Please.?
Rosie chuckled as she held the slim biker chick over her head. Brooke saw an evil glare in her eye just before she lowered Trisha down and slammed her knee into her gut. Trisha plopped to the floor like a dead fish.
?Take this piece of shit outside. I?ll be back to finish her off in a little while,? said Rosie.
?Why don?t you let us, do it?? said Latisha.
?I?m sorry. Did she call you fatso, or was I just hearing things??
?No, she did. And I understand,? said Latisha.
?Good, I?m glad we got that straight,? said Rosie. ?Take a couple swings at her if you want, but leave her conscious for me. I want to put her through phase three.?
?No!? Brooke tried to fight herself loose from Latisha?s chokehold, but couldn?t. Rosie teetered toward her as Trisha lay on the floor face-down. A pool of blood started forming on the tiles near her nose and mouth.
Brooke stomped down on Latisha?s foot again, sending the girl into a screaming frenzy. But just as she got loose and looked up, Rosie?s fist slammed into her jaw and knocked her out. (To be continued ...)
