Stacey and Jannifer waited as the last of their furniture was being hauled into their village apartment. The driver’s helper exited the building first as the driver lingered in front of the stoop. “If there’s anything else that I can do for you, just give me a call.” The driver held out a card. “Here take it,” he said to Stacey.
“C’mon, man, we got to go,” the driver’s partner yelled out. The driver waved him off. Jannifer was staring at the driver like he was a bloody maggot. She was consumed by rage, and in a monotone voice she said, “Are we all right, sister?”
Stacey nodded. The twins turned their backs and headed toward their new apartment building. But just as they did, the driver reached out and patted Stacey on the ass. And with the speed of a cat, Jannifer struck the driver squarely in the face. The driver spat out an incisor. He tried to open his mouth to speak--blood spilled out instead.
Jonathan Jacob’s chauffeur froze in his tracks when he saw his boss’ body. Jonathan was on his knees, bent over with his face pressed against the couch. A black party hat sat on top of his head. “Sweet Jesus!” There was blood all over the front of the couch. The chauffeur looked down at his feet. He was standing next to a bloody footprint. He backed out of the apartment, “Help me, God, please, somebody help!”