The mighty jaw crunched closed like Jason's Wandering Rocks. Hungry lips kissed themselves, parting with the moist pop of a suction cup coming off a frosty window.
"Bill, will you shut yo' dadgum mouth when you chew?!" he shouted down the length of the elegant table. "Makin' me sick! I sway-uh!"
Bill mumbled something through his mouthful of beans that Charles assumed was an apology.
Charles chuckled to himself, twirling the cold metal thoughtfully in his hands. In the crazy, ever-changing world he lived in, Charles knew that he could always be sure that Bill would never get above his raising. If it were any possible to get lower, well, then there might be cause for concern. But good ole Bill, raised by wolves or himself or maybe a far off king (depending on how creative Bill was feeling), was as steady and intelligent as a rock. His undying loyalty to Charles made him a perfect member of the household. Though it was an inadvertent result of Charles’s having once lapsed and shown a fleeting kindness to another soul, he’d never once regretted. Bill’s lacking table manners were insignificant next to the security that came with having such a behemoth around. Plus, though he would never admit it, being the gentleman that he was, Bill usually doubled as the evening’s entertainment.
As if on cue, a slight rumble emitted from the other end of the table. Bill lowered his hand from his mouth and smiled up at him like a small child. His face looked like a distorted reproduction of his plate five minutes ago. Charles couldn’t help but smile back like he imagined proud father might. Billy was learning.
Charles’s father, known throughout the region simply as Senior (even before his one and only son came along), had been a cold man. Charles had never known his mother. Growing up, he’d always heard stories about the delightful man his father had been before the cruel exchange and how immediate the change had been after.
Charles didn’t believe most of what he’d heard. The man he knew had kept his son and everyone else at arm’s length. Charles, who believed that his father somehow blamed him for his mother’s death and sometimes even joined him in this belief, had spent most of his youth at a boarding school far from home, learning all the skills and manners that had gotten him to where he was. He never had time to write to his father, who reciprocated the sentiment. Theirs was a strained relationship.
When a massive heart attack took his father late one afternoon, no one noticed until it was time for dinner almost 6 hours later. He’d been discovered in his study, his personal sanctuary where he was known to disappear for hours at a time. When he was over twenty minutes late for dinner, which he never missed for any reason, the blanket “Do Not Disturb” policy was broken. He’d been slumped over his desk with the last remains of Charles’s inheritance spilled out on the floor.
It’s been a very long time, thought Charles. Upon receiving news of his father’s death, Charles hadn’t even thought of shedding a tear. He immediately left school and came home to sell off his father’s estate and all of the baggage attached to it. He would use the money to finance his new life and a new business venture.
He’d discovered Bill rooting around in the woods at the edge of the vast property. After inviting him in for a warm meal, Charles had found a better business partner than he could possibly have hoped for. Bill’s superhuman size and strength always made negotiations much smoother.
There were voices at the front door. “Aw-right, Bill, ” he announced. “It’s showtime.”
They took their positions as the tumblers in the lock squeaked and popped. They should have tried the backdoor, thought Charles, laughing to himself. It’s open.
The door opened and the two unfamiliar faces were greeted by two unfamiliar faces, waiting for them eagerly in the foyer. The woman started to scream but Charles brought his gun out from his pocket and raised a finger to his lips. Her husband stood in front of her with his jaw hanging open.
Charles’s lines flowed naturally, as if he were saying them for the first time. “Good evening. If ya’ll could please have a seat and speak only when spoken to, then I think we can get this unfortunate ugliness over with rather quickly. Thank you for dinner, by the way. Bill, thank the nice folks.”
Bill stepped from the shadows and nodded with a grunt, pounding his monstrous left palm with the club in his right.
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