Chapter Eight: Revenge

Budd was sleeping off the horrors of work the previous night and the nightcap he had after when he was woken up. Someone was knocking on his trailer door. Budd opened it to reveal Bill. Bill was the last person that Budd wanted to see right now.

"Great day in the morning, brother Bill livin' up to his familia obligation.

"How ya doing, Budd?"

"Oh, you know my life, Bill, just a mad rush of wild parties and wealthy women."

They looked at each other.

"What'd ya wanna talk about?" asked Budd, breaking the silence.

"Are you not going to invite me in?" asked Bill.

"No."

"May I ask why not?"

"It stinks in there, that's why. Now what's so important it requires a reunion?"

Bill looked pained at what he was about to say.

"You were right. You were right about Bea."

Budd nodded. He wasn't surprised.

"Give me a minute," said Budd, but he didn't wait for the answer. He just took off for inside. Bill tried to wait patiently, but he disliked the heat more and more as he got older. Budd finally came back with jeans and a wife beater on with a bottle of booze in one hand.

"When did she wake up?" asked Budd and Bill began his tale, as much as he had found out from sources. Time passed and the sun pressed harder on the figures below.

"You tellin' me she cut her way through eighty-eight bodyguards before she got to O-Ren?"

"Nah, there wasn't really eighty-eight of them. They just called themselves 'The Crazy 88.'"

"How come?"

Bill laughed.

"I don't know. I guess they thought it sounded cool. (Budd let himself laugh.) Anyhow, they all fell under her Hanzo sword."

Bill definitely had Budd's attention now. He had perked up at mention of her Hanzo.

"She got a Hanzo sword?"

Bill nodded and said, "He made one for her."

Budd squinted his eyes, recalling an event from more than twenty years ago.

"Didn't he swear a blood oath to never make another sword?"

Bill was at a loss.

"It would appear he has broken it."

Budd processed the information and said, "Them Japs sure know how to carry a grudge, don't they? (He laughed again.) Or maybe… you just tend to bring that out in people?"

Budd was pleased at the reaction that he got from his brother. Bill seemed to be regrouping.

"I know this is a ridiculous question before I ask it, but you haven't, by any chance, kept up with your…swordplay?"

"I, uh… I pawned that years ago," said Budd with a completely straight face.

"You hocked a Hattori Hanzo sword?"

"Yep."

"It was priceless."

Budd thought Bill's face was priceless.

"Well, not in El Paso, it ain't. In El Paso, I got me 250 dollars for it."

Budd saw his chance to wrap things up.

"I'm a bouncer in a titty bar, Bill. If she wants to fight with me, all she's got to do is come down to the club and start some shit and we'll be in a fight."

Budd had to admit that he liked to see the concern on Bill's face. Bill must still have some brotherly feelings for him after all.

"Budd, you need to listen to me. I know we haven't spoken in some time and the last time we spoke wasn't the most pleasant."

They were both thinking of the day Budd had held B.B. for the first and last time.

"But you've got to get over being mad at me, and start becoming afraid of Bea because she is coming, and she is coming to kill you and unless you accept my assistance, I have no doubt she will succeed."

Budd was touched by the speech, but dismayed by Bill's trying to capitalize on it.

"Can't we forget the past and look at the bright side of all this?"

Budd laughed and asked, "And what would that happy side be?"

"She's brought the boys back together."

Budd had to laugh.

"I appreciate the concern on your face, but there's a difference 'tween the boys, time can't erase. I don't dodge guilt and I don't Jew out of paying my comeuppance. That woman deserves her revenge and…we deserve to die, but then again, so does she so I guess we'll just see. Won't we?"

Budd smiled. Bill looked both infuriated and sad.

"Budd…Budd, you know I love you," said Bill with difficulty.

"Yep," said Budd, not looking at him. Bill sighed and went to his car. He opened the door, got in and was going to shut it when Budd said, "Bill."

"Yes, Budd."

"Bill…," started Budd, but there was too much to say and he wasn't sure how to start, "Say hi to B.B. for me."

Budd approached the car, bit his lip and took a swig from the bottle instead of saying anything more.

"Of course," said Bill, waiting for more, but it didn't come. He shut the door and drove off, trying to see his brother in the rearview mirror as long as possible. He feared it would be the last time he saw him alive.

Budd watched the car until it was an indeterminate dot on the horizon. Then he went back inside.

Marilyn held Budd's hand as they entered the apartment in New York. Budd really didn't want to be here, but Marilyn had thought it was a good. Also, Bill had been nagging him to pick up his shit. Bill had really changed the place in the more than five years since Budd had seen it last. Bill hadn't changed Budd's room though. It was exactly the same as when Budd had left for rehab. Marilyn flopped down on the bed and it jiggled.

"Water bed," she commented with a raised eyebrow. Budd chuckled slightly and shrugged. Then he set to going through his stuff.

"Shit, shit, shit…keep, shit, shit, shit," said Budd, throwing his stuff around. They were material shit that just didn't really matter. He had Marilyn, he was happy.

"He can burn the rest for all I care," said Budd, after having collected a box worth. Marilyn turned away from the window and took his hand again.

"You have to look," she said and squeezed in a reassuring way. Budd nodded, grabbed the box and headed for the door. Bella's room was right next door, but it took an eternity. He turned the knob and the door swung open. He let out the breath that he hadn't realized that he had been holding. He felt Marilyn wrap her arms around him and was glad. The room was bare, completely bare. It was as if his brother had stripped everything that was Bella's, but couldn't redo the room. He walked in with Marilyn at his side and glanced around. It may have been empty, but it was still full of memories; pillow fights in the middle of the night, alcohol experiments and the hooker that she hired the one time. He tried to smile, but it didn't work. Marilyn hugged him and he hugged back.

"Let's go," said Budd and she hugged him again.

Budd dumped the box on the floor of their hotel room and sat on the bed. Marilyn put her hands on Budd's knee and said, "The observation deck at the World Trade Center closes in an hour."

Budd got that look in his eyes and pulled Marilyn onto bed with him.

"Budd," said Marilyn, drawing his name out.

"There's plenty of tomorrow for sightseeing."

"Budd," started Marilyn, but Budd put his hand down her pants, "Or we can see stuff later."

Then she unzipped her pants.

Some time later, Marilyn lay with Budd's arms around her.

"Did Bill get back to you about Thanksgiving?"

"Yeah, he's in Washington. He can't make it."

"We could go there."

"He's on business."

"Oh."

"Housekeeping," cried a voice, followed by a knock. Budd tried to ask her to go away, but she didn't apparently hear him. He heard the beep of the card and the handle being turned. Budd reached down for the sheet, covering himself and Marilyn grabbed half for herself. The maid caught the action though because she immediately cast her eyes down.

"I'm sorry, sorry. I'll come back later," she said, over the wail of a baby in the hallway, and quickly left. Budd didn't relax until the door was shut. He didn't like being caught in an intimate moment like that. Then he noticed that Marilyn was still staring at the door and he knew it wasn't because she wanted the sheets changed. He hugged her from the back and massaged her shoulders. She relaxed, but he kissed her back for extra measure.

"What if we aren't supposed to have a baby?"

Budd let go of her and she turned to face him.

"Don't talk like that," said Budd.

"But we've been trying for so long."

"You heard what the doctor said. It might take a bit longer for us."

He caressed her cheek and gave her a little smile. She managed a weak smile.

"We could try again," suggested Budd. Marilyn smiled a real smile and gently shoved him. Budd laughed.

"You are the horniest man I know. How did you survive without me?"

"One night stands and porno mags," replied Budd with a twinkle in his eye. Marilyn looked all shocked and offended, but she couldn't keep it up. She started laughing and Budd followed. Then Marilyn pushed Budd flat on the bed and started kissing him.

Bella spun the barrel of the gun and snapped it back into place. Bill sat on a chair, watching her. He had just gotten in a little while ago from a job in New York.

"Where's Budd?" asked Bill as Bella got out her check book to balance.

"Sleeping, I assume."

"Sleeping? It's 3 pm."

"But he just got in four hours ago."

"Bella…Bella, don't let him get away with that shit. He shouldn't be pulling this for another year or two."

Bella plunked the pen on the table, agitated. She looked at Bill and her annoyance was plain to see.

"He would just sneak out anyway. Would you rather I handcuff him to the bed?"

"No."

"Well, then."

Bella returned to her figures and Bill took a beer from the fridge.

"Sometimes, I worry about that boy."

"You should," said Bella, without looking up. Bill sighed.

"What is it you want? What does he need?"

Bella stopped her task.

"I don't know, that's the problem."

Bill took the cap off and took a swig.

"You have Esteban to call on as well."

"I know," said Bella, returning to her task.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm just tired," said Bella and then she noticed Bill's look, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't snap at you."

"Tell you what, why don't the three of us go down to Cancun, or some resort where they wait on you, hand and foot?"

"I'd like that."

"Good, consider it done."

Bella went back to the check book and Bill continued to drink while relaxing. Bill glanced around the kitchen, looking at things when a particular photo caught his eye. It was of Betty, the same year that she died. Bill bowed his head at the memory of his mother, but there was something that had always troubled him.

"What set Paul off?"

"What?" asked Bella, actually dropping her pen.

"We both know that Paul was cruel and violent, but he always got set off some way. There was some way he got provoked. What caused him to attack mom those two times?"

Bella looked as though she would rather take an algebra test.

"Come on, Bella, what is it?"

"It's just…I've never told anyone, especially not Budd."

"This involves Budd?"

"In a way, yes…or at least, I thought it did."

"Just tell me."

Bella took a deep breath and blurted, "Mom was sleeping with someone other than Paul." She immediately put a hand to her lips as though she had said too much. Bill was analyzing previous memories and recollections, trying to put the puzzle together. Then it clicked.

"She was sleeping with Esteban."

Bella nodded.

"What happened the second time?"

"Paul found the valentine that Esteban sent mom. He jumped easily to the wrong conclusion."

Bill took in the truth and said, "Now I know why Esteban helped mom so much through her pregnancy and was gone when I came back."

"Yep, don't tell Budd. I think he's better off not knowing."

"I think you're probably right," agreed Bill.

On the other side of the wall, on the verge of going in, was Budd. He had woken up at the sound of Bill's car, but stopped at the mention of his name. He had heard everything. He wasn't sure what to do so he went back to bed. They never got around to the Cancun trip.

Fang sat at the head of the table with Bill, Bella and Budd at the foot.

"Eat!" commanded Fang.

Most of his guests did that, but three noticeably did not. This went on for five minutes until Fang spoke up.

"Why aren't you eating my food?"

"There's a simple explanation to that really," started Bill, but he was interrupted …by Fang falling face first in his pasta. The senior members looked confused, but quickly followed suit until only five at the table remained. The three siblings looked at the other two with interest. The first to speak was Fang's newest acquisition. He was a boy, barely legal, who was a local.

"I noticed you weren't eating, can't be too careful."

"I followed the kid's lead," explained the forty-something Jew from New York.

"I guess it's time for a proper introduction," said Bill, "My name's Bill. This is Budd, the best assassin in the world…aside from me and Bella who's a close second. We're going to be in charge of Fang's business now."

"Why shouldn't you have a taste of your own medicine?" asked the cocky kid.

"Because I only ask for twenty percent."

"Ten percent lower than Fang?" clarified the middle-aged man.

"Right."

The two survivors looked at each other and then at Bill.

"You have yourself a deal," said the teenager and Bill shook both of their hands.

"Well, here's to our new venture," said Bill with a chuckle and raised a glass. They all toasted, but Budd could see past the fake warmth in Bill's eyes. Bill was already coming up with a plan to get rid of the two men.

Budd kissed the nineteen year old under him and she moaned in pleasure. He was going to say her name, but couldn't remember what it was. The green eyed vixen had been at a party two hours before and was very ready and willing, complete with apartment. They finished and slumped to the bed. Brown hair covered half her face as she said, "You can let yourself out." Then she turned away from him and closed her eyes. Budd dressed and exited into a slightly chilly, California night. The dog star shone brightly over him. He jumped on his brand new Harley-Davidson and sped off. His dark hair flew behind him, reaching well past his shoulder blades. Esteban had voiced his disapproval the last time he visited. Esteban, he had noticed a coldness coming from Budd. Budd had been even more surly than normal, but he still remembered the conversation he had overheard between Bill and Bella and he had had selective hearing. He didn't understand why Esteban hadn't treated him more like a son. It wasn't fair. He had come to realize that his home life was far from ideal and he was going to hold Esteban accountable. Yes, that was exactly what he was going to do. Budd turned the bike around with a horrible noise and revved the engine for Mexico.

The sun shone pale on the horizon as Budd reached Esteban's place. The sky was a pale grey which meant Esteban had just gone to bed an hour or so ago. Budd pounded on the door anyway. No answer. He pounded louder.

"Esteban!"

"Esteban."

He screamed until he heard movement and the door open. It was Esteban himself, Budd had expected one of his lackeys.

"What is it, Budd?"

"I know who you are," said Budd, his resolve beginning to leave him.

"Oh, who am I? Other than one you have awakened very early in the morning?"

"You're my father."

Esteban's gaze was very sad and he said, softly, "I wish I were."

"No, you slept with my mother."

"Yes, I did, but I am not your father."

"Why? Why can't you just admit it?"

Esteban seemed almost afraid in Budd's eyes and that seemed to egg him on. He grabbed onto Esteban's shirt as he used to when he was smaller. Esteban shook him off.

"I am not your father. I am not and you are not my son, Budd."

Anger flashed in Budd's eyes. It wasn't the answer he was looking for. He slapped Esteban across the face. It didn't hurt that much physically, but it hurt inside. Never had Budd laid a finger on Esteban before. Esteban inhaled deeply, trying to relax. Then he punched the younger man in the face.

Budd backed off, his eye hurt badly. He tried to blink and couldn't after the second attempt. It had already swelled shut. Esteban backed away, looking slightly horrified at what he had done. Then he looked back inside. Someone else was coming. It was Bill, wearing only pants with no shoes. He looked at Esteban, who was panting and the expression on his face was awful. Then he looked at his brother, full of temper. It was a temper Bill knew too well.

"Budd, Budd, what are you doing?"

"You never told me."

"Told you what?"

"Esteban's my father."

"No, he's not."

"Don't fuck with me, Bill. I know he is."

"No, he isn't," said Bill, in his best voice to discourage further questioning. It didn't work.

"Then tell me who he is."

"It doesn't matter. He's dead now… It was Paul. You killed your own father, Budd."

"No," said Budd and he shook his head.

"It is true," said Esteban with sad, brown eyes. Budd continued to shake his head.

"No, you're lying. You must be."

Bill held out his hand to clasp Budd's shoulder, but Budd wouldn't have it. He threw the hand off and it was with such force that Bill had to act. There was no reasoning with Budd. There was nothing Bill could do, but catch Budd off guard and punch his little brother in the jaw. Budd fell right where Bill was counting on. He fell against one of the ornamental rocks, knocking him out. Tears came to Bill's eyes and Esteban comforted him.

"Here, I'll help you take him to your car," he offered and they both carried the teenager to the passenger side of Bill's car. Esteban watched Budd sleep as Bill dressed and got his things. Afterwards, Esteban sighed and kissed Budd on the forehead. When he turned to Bill, there were tears in his eyes.

"I loved him as if he was my own son, but I can't do this again."

Bill shook his head.

"It won't happen again, just a stupid teenage thing."

Esteban gave him a look.

"No, it was more than that. He's too dangerous."

"How can you say that?"

"He's too dangerous. He has too much of his father in him and that scares me."

"But.."

"No, I'm done. It pains me, but Budd is not welcome at my hacienda anymore."

Bill opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. The pain it was causing his mentor was evident. A few tears splashed down the older man's brown skin. Esteban wiped them away with the back of his hands.

"I hope you're right. I hope his temper is merely a phrase, but God help the person who receives it."

Bill nodded and drove away.

Budd drove to his trailer from his hour or so of work. It was such a productive day, too. His boss had made him feel like a fucking idiot and pretty much fired him, but not before he had to clean shit off the floor of the women's restroom. He parked on the littered dirt and looked at the shitty trailer he slept in. Things would get better. They had to and he had been forming a plan ever since Bill had visited. With a sigh, he turned the car off, removed the key and went inside. He had a feeling that he hadn't had in several years. He had the feeling that someone was watching him. His suspicions were confirmed awhile later as he listened to the Man in Black. He heard dogs. His first instinct was to look which he did, but he half-expected to see Carly when he did. Sometimes he forgot that she had died the year before. There was something else out there though.

Bea was there.

He didn't know how he knew, but he did. The day had finally come. He had always known Bea would wake up and she would come after him so he had years to ponder his role. For one thing, he hadn't fulfilled his promise to her. He hadn't killed her, but he had failed when she was expecting. She was no longer in that condition, but how could he take her away from B.B. without their ever meeting?

He had had to come up with a way of killing her that wouldn't leave him with that sour feeling in his stomach. It had taken awhile, but he figured it out. For now, he clutched the old shotgun, spat occasionally and waited. He didn't have to wait long. Apparently, years spent in a coma had done nothing for Bea's patience. Her feet fell on the steps and her hand opened the door. Boom! Bea was on the ground with twin holes in her chest and Budd above her with smoking barrels. He recognized the familiar spitfire in her eyes and smiled inwardly.

"Now that gentled you down some, didn't it? Ain't nobody a badass a double dose of rocksalt dug deep in her tits."

He threw the empty cartridges away and leaned close to the younger woman and took a glance at her sword. Then he kicked it out of her reach and allowed himself a smile. His friendship with Bea was complicated and possibly at an end. He wasn't going to let his mixed emotions show though. He reloaded the gun.

"Not having…tits…as fine or as big as yours, I can't even imagine how bad that shit must sting."

Budd continued to talk as he found all her little weapons. She had tried to come prepared.

"Yet I don't want to, neither," said Budd grinning at her like it was just another almost genial talk between the two. Bea knew better. She spat in his face, crimson, and it shook him from his mood. He spat chew back at her.

"I win," he said, enjoying her disgusted look. Then he rolled her over and injected her with tranq he had left over. He left her that way as he headed back inside to grab a beer, spitcan and cellphone. It was time to put his other plan into action. He dialed a number that he would have preferred not to and waited for the bitch to answer.

"Bill," she responded, not even bothering to check caller id.

"Wrong brother, ya hateful bitch," said Budd, happy to throw Elle off guard.

"Budd."

"Bingo."

"And to what do I owe this dubious pleasure?"

"I just caught me the cowgirl ain't never been caught," he said, looking over the blonde that should have been fucking his brother rather than the blonde on the phone.

"Did you kill her?"

"Well, not yet, I ain't. I shot her full of rock salt. She's so gentle right now. I could perform her coup de grace with a rock," he said, admiring her Hanzo sword, "Anywhoo…Guess what I'm holdin' in my hand right now?"

"What?"

"A brand spankin' new Hattori Hanzo sword and I'm here to tell ya, Elle, that's what I call sharp."

"How much?"

"Oh, that's hard to say, bein' that it's…priceless and all."

"What's the terms?"

"You get your bony ass down here first thing in the morning with a million dollars in folding cash and I'll give you the greatest sword ever made by a man. Now, how do you like the sound of that?"

"Sounds like we got a deal. One condition."

"What?"

"She must suffer to her last breath."

"Well…That, Elle darlin'…I can pretty much damn well guarantee."

"Then I'll see you in the mornin', millionaire."

"All right."

Budd hung up and put the phone in his back pocket. Bea would suffer to her last breath. Either it would be from lack of oxygen or the guilt of killing who, she had once admitted to Budd, was the only man she had ever loved. He wiped the chew off her face and picked her up. He carried her to the back of his truck where he doublechecked that she had a knife hidden in her boot. Budd bound her hands and feet and got everything ready before driving off. He had a stop to make before Ernie's.

"Wakey, Wakey. Eggs and Bakey," said Budd as Bea woke up. One of the few things he had gotten from Marilyn that didn't make him cry. He undid the truck back and pulled her out. It wasn't so gentle either. He watched her watch him with absolute hatred, but it made what he was going to do easier. Dirt flying out of a grave was all he could see of Ernie. The former occupant had halfway fallen out of her rotting casket.

"I'm done! Get me outta this hole! "Ernie screamed.

"Good," said Budd and he smiled at Bea before helping Ernie. He grabbed his friend out of the hole and tried to brush the cemetery filth off him. Ernie immediately headed for the chips while Budd threw the ladder in the back of the truck. He joined Ernie who crunched as he gave Bea a closer inspection.

"Whoa, look at those eyes. This bitch is furious," said the shorter man as if he were looking at a lion in a zoo.

"What did I tell ya? Is she the cutest little blond pussy you ever saw? Or…is she the cutest little blond pussy you ever saw?" asked Budd, not because it was his opinion but because he knew how much she hated that word, only Bill could get away with it or cunt.

"I seen better," said his friend, hard to please.

"You got anything to say?" asked Budd to Bea.

She shook her head to the men's amusement.

"White women call this "the silent treatment," explained Ernie, "and we let them think we don't like it."

Ernie laughed and Budd smiled at his friend who seemed to find humor in just about everything.

"You grab the feet, I'll grab the head," said the former assassin. He didn't trust Ernie not to do something, like drop her. Bea had other ideas anyway, it seemed. Budd knew that she had figured out his plan for her. She started to struggle.

"Hey. Hey Hey! Wiggle worm, you see this?" asked Budd, getting out a spray can, "You see it, don't ya? That's a can of Mace. Mm-hmm."

There was an unspoken exchange between the two who used to be so close. She was looking for a way out of her predicament. She wanted a fair fight between swords and Budd wasn't having any of it.

" No. You're goin' underneath the ground tonight and…that's all there is to it. I wanna bury ya. I was gonna bury ya with this," said Budd, holding up a flashlight and shining it in her eyes for extra measure," but if you're gonna act like a horse's ass, I'm gonna spray this whole goddamn can right in your eyeballs! I'll burn'em right outta your fuckin' head. Then you're gonna be blind and burnin' and buried alive. Now, what's it gonna be, sister?"

He was acting like an ass, but if he stopped acting awful to her, he could feel the tears forming. His word choice began to betray him when he called her sister. She should have been by law and what he was doing didn't change what she felt like to him in his heart. Bea picked the flashlight.

"That's a wise decision," agreed Budd and they put her in the casket. He made sure she had the light and took one last look before…before the deed.

"This is for breakin' my brother's heart," said Budd, reminding her of his promise. He thought he saw a flicker of understanding in her blue eyes, but it might have only been his imagination. The tears were collecting in his eyes and he shut the lid before she could see them.

The two of them pounded nail after nail into the coffin. He tried to separate his emotions but Budd had never been very good at that so a stray tear or two fell as his hammer did. They threw the box in the ground and pitched the dirt back in. As time wore on, Budd's tears were flowing freely, but Ernie said nothing. Ernie patted the mound when they ran out of dirt while Budd went to the truck. As he had done three other times, he laid a rose on Bea's grave. One of them wasn't going to last the night and he couldn't honestly say which one he was rooting for. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, leaving raccoon eyes, put his hat back on and said, "Yeah, that about does it." Then he returned to the cab where Ernie waited.