Everywhere That Tommy Goes Read Free Page A

piss-drunk from tequila shots and feeling no pain.
    After a time, Troyer nods at her, pulls away from the bar, and heads for the back of the club. Sure enough, within a few seconds, the hottie whispers something in the other bartender’s ear and slides out of the bar. I figure now’s the time to head out and follow Troyer, so I ease away from my spot and leave through the back door. Troyer doesn’t see me as I slip out and hide behind this smelly green dumpster.
I’ll just wait and watch what he does
.
    A couple minutes later, Troyer walks out with the girl on his arm. I knew it: the dude picked her up just like he said he would. So I follow them, staying far enough behind to see but not close enough to hear what they’re saying. It doesn’t matter, though: I can figure it all right. He’s probably telling her how strange it is coming here from another country and not knowing anything about the place, and she’s probably telling him not to worry, that she’ll show him around just fine.
    So they walk around for a bit, and he leads her down a dark alley. I guess maybe he’s planning on banging her just for a laugh. Anyway, I creep up on them and hide myself against a steel doorway that probably leads into some sleazy peep show dive. I half-expect the door to swing open any second, some drunk-ass lowlife stumbling out while holding a little brown bag that hides a bottle of Colt 45. Whatever, I have to see what Troyer’s up to.
    They’re both arm-in-arm and walking together until they get behind this heap of garbage piled up next to a dumpster—I knew it! They start making out, and he slides his hand along her leg and up her skirt, real smooth and sexy-like. Then—get this—she pulls his hand away and stops kissing him. Two seconds later, she reaches up with both hands and pushes him off at the chest.
    Troyer steps backs, tilts his head to the side, and stares at her. Then, before I can blink, he reaches up and slices her throat with a knife. The chick goes down like her legs have been cut off at the knees. No sound, no reaction—she just collapses and dies right there.
    Without thinking, I let out a puke-like hurl sound and scream, “Troyer! What the fuck!” Troyer turns around, sporting this blank stare and a distorted smile that creeps me out so bad thatI feel like I’m laid out in a snake pit, tied to the ground and three dozen snakes are crawling all over me. I can’t move.
    “You like that, Tommy Boy?” he asks, still in the Australian accent he pulled out of nowhere.
    I just stand there staring at the dead chick with my mouth open wide.
    “Say something, mate,” Troyer says, turning and looking up at the sky, bellowing out a throaty, psycho laugh. Then he raises the knife skyward and shakes his fist like a goddamn lunatic.
    I still can’t speak and just fall to my knees hurling up all the chips I ate along with all the tequila I drank. Troyer kneels down, too, and coughs a bit, still howling that sicko laugh.
    Finally, he stops ranting. My heart is beating against my chest so hard that it feels like it’s going to burst out. It gets real quiet for a time, and then, out of nowhere, Troyer goes, “Okay, Tommy Boy, now we must dispose of the bitch and cover our tracks.”
    It’s weird, because the dude is still talking in that hammed-up Australian lingo. It’s like he’s a totally different person.
    “This is crazy, Troyer,” I say, finally finding my voice. “I’m outta here. Don’t bring me in on this shit.”
    “Don’t be such a wuss, mate, or I may have to slice you, too,” he says, pointing the knife at me. “You’re not going anywhere. You and I are going to make this all go away. We’re going to take lovey here and make her disappear. Go get your car and bring it around, before someone else shows up. Even a fool can see it already looks like you did this. After all, it’s your vomit staining the pavement. And that’s all the authorities will need.”
    I look down at the pile of