Chapter 1.1
November 11th 1988
Waking from the deepest sleep, she opened her eyes, the pillow almost suffocating her as she lay face down. Stirring, her arm hanging over the edge of the bed, the empty vodka bottle escaped from her grip and rolled across the bare wood of the bedroom floor, coming to a stop as it gently touched the skirting board beneath the bedroom window. As the sunshine blasted through the gap in the curtains, Tiffany lifted her head and squinted as the influx of light caused her head to erupt in agony, the pounding from deep within, the dry mouth, filled with the stale taste of cigarettes and alcohol. She didn't remember too much about the previous night, or the night before that come to mention it. Rolling on to her back and beginning to massage her temples, she looked at the clock sitting on the bedside table. Almost noon and the last thing she could be bothered thinking about was getting out of bed and beginning yet another day of solitude. That feeling, knowing full well that she wouldn't hear his voice, she wouldn't see his smile, smell him as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, the very thought was enough to make her sick as she lay in bed, the covers barely covering her naked figure as she tried to sit up. The jolt of pain through her head made her wince, like somebody had drilled into her skull, started poking around her brain, the nerves bellowing as one. She very carefully swung her legs over the edge of the bed and reached for her cigarettes, lighting the tip and sucking through the filter as the smoke entered her lungs, the sickly feeling refusing to subside. As she stood, she grabbed her thick dressing gown from the end of the bed and made her way into the narrow hall of her apartment, heading to the kitchen and noticing a variety of letters, takeout menus and flyers resting beneath the letterbox of her flimsy front door. Stopping she grabbed the mail in one hand and entered the kitchen, turning on the gas stove and removing the cigarette from her lips, holding the end over the burners now spewing gas, the embers of the tip causing the gas to ignite as Tiffany ran her eyes over the mail in her grasp. One marked 'EVICTION NOTICE'. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, muttering to herself as she placed the half smoked cigarette back between her lips and opened the cupboard, rummaging until she eventually found the jar of coffee, scooping a couple of heaped teaspoons into her cup before filling the kettle and placing it on the stove. She wrapped her arms across her chest as she slumped to a sitting position at the small kitchen table, the cold of the winter beginning to set in as she noticed the frost sitting proudly on the kitchen window. As the water in the kettle slowly started to boil, Tiffany stubbed her cigarette out in the ash tray sat on the table, piled high with old cigarette butts and the grey, foul smelling ash of the last week. Feeling a desire to urinate, she stood and skipped to the bathroom, trying not to give the cold wooden floor a chance to freeze her soft, delicate feet as she moved, gracefully, her hair flowing out behind her. Within minutes, she appeared back in the kitchen the kettle beginning to whistle as she lifted it from the stove and killed the gas, pouring the piping hot water into the cup and giving it a quick stir. Extra strong and black, just the thing after a hard night on the vodka. Usually she couldn't stomach the stuff, reminded her too much of paint thinner, but it was all she had in, and she really didn't feel like heading out just yet. The eyes of the neighbourhood most likely falling on her, judging her, whispering behind her back as she walked along, her life changing the moment Chucky died. Almost ending. But as she sat now, staring at the clear sky and radiant sunshine, she knew that she'd have to venture out, because like it or not, life went on.
The irony completely lost on her for the time being.
It had taken a while, but she'd managed it. She finally felt human again, the coffee washing through her system, the caffeine working its way around her body and giving her a little nudge, pushing her towards the bathroom, a wash and a change of clothes vital for the day ahead. Now as she turned and locked her apartment door behind her, she felt a million times better. Dropping the key in her handbag and tearing the bright yellow eviction notice from the door, taking a glance around to see if there were any witnesses to the fact she hadn't made rent, yet again. She could pay the rent easily, the money she had found in Keith's jacket pocket more than enough to keep a roof over her head for the foreseeable future, but she had bigger things on her mind right now. Screwing the notice up and tossing it over the railing, Tiffany headed for the steps and made her way to the street below, the brand new Ferrari still parked against the kerb, majestically awaiting its owner whose life had been so unceremoniously cut short just a couple of short nights ago. Walking on she caught her reflection in the window of a shop, stopping to adjust her hair slightly, push up her boobs and touch up her lipstick before returning it to her handbag and tugging her dress down a touch, her bare legs feeling the chill as her stilettos clicked along the sidewalk. Image was everything in this game, and she always liked to make a good impression, none more so than now, as she rounded the corner and crossed the empty, trash littered street, reaching out and grabbing the door handle as she pushed it open and made her way inside Gerry Goldsmith's pawn shop.
Resting on the counter, the wire mesh the only security on offer, Gerry lifted his eyes from his paper and took another puff of his cigar, his face lighting up in delight as his eyes moved up the frame of the young woman that had just entered his store. Her blonde hair flowing freely, her short dress and her killer body made Gerry lose all interest in the story he had just seconds ago been engrossed in, shoving the paper to one side as he removed the short stub of a cigar from his mouth, his fat little fingers working overtime.
"Miss Valentine," He greeted her as she approached the counter. "What a pleasant surprise."
Tiffany paused, taking a quick look around as though interested in the junk on offer. Rings gracing the glass fronted display beneath Gerry's waist, guitars of various makes and models hanging from the walls, firearms and knives displayed behind Gerry himself and a whole plethora of useless rubbish people had brought in, Gerry's place the last call of the damned as the locals hocked whatever they could find in a valiant effort to make rent.
"Gerry." She replied as she cast her eyes around the store, slowly but surely making her way to the counter. Sure enough, she finally reached her destination and dug her hand into her bag, withdrawing the wedding ring, the property of the late Keith Allen.
"What can you tell me about this?" She asked, placing the ring onto the glass surface beneath her hand.
Gerry removed the cigar and placed it neatly in the ash tray by his side, picking the ring up and placing it on his little finger, the extremely long finger nail freaking Tiffany out slightly, as it always did. Eyeing the ring up and paying extra attention to the hallmark, Gerry took a deep breath and looked surprised.
"Twenty two carat, yellow gold, extra heavyweight, about 5mm..." Gerry exhaled, the words escaping under his breath as he blinked his eyes and took another look, a closer examination of the ring. "Quality piece, no doubt about it, probably retails for about $2,500, give or take a couple hundred."
As he finished, he placed the ring back on the glass counter and pushed it back under the wire mesh, towards Tiffany.
"So how much would you give me for it?" She asked, flashing Gerry her best smile.
"$100..." Gerry replied as he pulled his paper back under his nose and grabbed the cigar, his attention now turned back towards the article he had previously been invested in.
Tiffany looked at him for a brief second before laughing, trying to figure out if this was a joke.
"Come on," She laughed as she picked the ring up, turning it over in her hand as she gave it a quick once over. "You just said yourself, it's worth $2,500 easy."
Gerry turned his attention back to Tiffany.
"Correction." He pointed to the ring now sat in Tiffany's hand. "That ring would have been worth $2,500 if bought new and from a reputable retailer in the city. As it stands, that ring isn't new, far from it."
He paused to cough up some phlegm, turning to spit in the direction of the waste bin placed strategically behind the counter, before spinning back to her.
"In fact Tiffany I'm surprised it's not still attached to some poor fucker's finger. What was it? Some old boy on his way home one night, minding his own business, happy as can be until he came across you and your god damn boyfriend?" He placed the ends of his fingers flat on the paper under his nose and rotated it half a turn, sliding it under the barrier dividing them for Tiff to take in the article Gerry had been engrossed in. The image of Chucky's lifeless corpse leaping from the page, Gerry continued as he pulled the paper back towards him. "And as for a reputable retailer... You may be a lot of things Miss Valentine, but that you most certainly are not."
He finished with a smile, his bald head and round little face wrinkling slightly under the unfamiliar muscle movement beneath the skin as his lips parted and displayed a row of black and yellow teeth. As he returned his gaze to the paper, Tiffany's mouth dropped open, disbelief at the manner in which Gerry had just addressed her. She was quite literally stunned, speechless almost, as she found her mouth moving on its own.
"But come on Gerry. Surely you can..." She was instantly cut off, Gerry not even bothering to look away from his newspaper, licking his finger and flipping the page over as he calmly answered her.
"$100..." He replied. "Take it or leave it!"
Tiffany tried to remain calm, screwing her lips shut before another word could leap out, landing her in trouble. As she nodded, she took another look around. Despite the overwhelming build up of crap and the endless mountains of cheap gold plated jewellery, there was still some pretty good stuff in Gerry's store. With that, an idea flickered into her head, her lips relaxing as they spoke seductively, Tiffany leaning across the counter and pressing her nose against the mesh, crossing her arms and pushing her chest up, her breasts catching Gerry's attention as he looked up to be greeted by such a beautiful sight as the twenty seven year old stunner addressed him.
"What about store credit?" She asked as she bit her lip and looked him in the eyes, Gerry stammering slightly as he spoke.
"W... Well that would... Err... Depend..." He prised his eyes from Tiffany's chest.
"On what?" Tiffany asked as she lifted her hand and began twirling her hair around her finger.
"Well do you actually see anything you want?" Gerry asked as his arms swept out before him, causing Tiffany to twist her head and take in the cave full of crap before her, the only thing of any interest being a knife that happened to double as a nail file, the end curling round in a beautiful flick, the tempered steel sitting in the uniquely crafted handle bearing all manner of skulls and gothic symbols. Gerry was aiming too high with the price tag though, $80 was more than anybody in this area would be willing to pay for something that, to them anyway, would be no more than ornamental. Standing and turning full circle, Tiffany fixed Gerry a disgusted look and rammed the ring back in her bag, her right arm shooting out, middle finger extended, much to Gerry's surprise.
"Fuck you Gerry." She spat, the vitriol gushing from her words as she grabbed the nearest piece of junk, a snow globe containing a miniature model of the Eiffel Tower, the words 'I Love Paris' emblazoned across the base. The glass dome shattered into what looked like a million pieces as it came into contact with the wire mesh barrier separating Tiffany from Gerry, water spraying in every direction as he instinctively ducked behind the glass counter. Without a second glance, Tiffany turned and headed to the door, stepping into the cool November breeze and letting the chilling conditions envelope her long, smooth legs as the wood slammed in the door frame. Taking a deep breath, she looked up and down the street, before allowing her eyes to fall on the decaying building immediately opposite her, the flickering neon light in the window of O'Grady's bar almost beckoning her as it blinked, indicating in the cheapest and tackiest way possible that the bar was indeed open and ready for business. Not paying any attention to the oncoming traffic, Tiffany began to cross the street, a screech of tyres and the incessant honking of a cars horn startling as the driver berated her for not checking. Spinning and slamming the palm of her hand on the hood of the car, Tiffany gave him a few words of her own before flipping him the middle finger and turning, crashing through the doors of O'Grady's, the vast bar area already half occupied as every head turned to stare, the room suddenly falling silent as Tiffany came to a standstill. Composing herself, she smoothed out her dress and allowed her long, slender legs to carry her across the dirty, rough wooden floor before pulling up a bar stool and waving her hand to the proprietor, the various voices beginning to rise in volume as people returned to their conversations.
"What'll it be Tiff?" The young bar tender spoke as he approached, tossing the dish cloth over his shoulder and spreading his arms across the bar as he addressed her.
"Vodka." She replied, her head still banging from the night before. "Large, with a twist."
"Sure thing." The young man turned and grabbed a glass, heading off to fetch her order.
All of a sudden, Tiffany heard a roar of laughter from the table in the corner of the bar, five men huddled around the table with their beers, eyes focused on Tiffany as she sat, legs crossed, awaiting her order. She knew one of the men, Bill Sutton, from around the neighbourhood, the rumours of domestic abuse following him and his wife no matter where they moved, his wife having a penchant for walking in to doors after Bill had been out for a night with the boys. Although never sharing more than a sentence with the man, Tiffany knew a bastard when she saw one, and there he sat now, flanked by his friends as he leered at her, a smile crossing his lips as she returned his stare before thinking better of it and returning her gaze to the refrigerators behind the bar.
"Hey baby!" Sutton shouted, his square jaw wagging arrogantly as he hollered across the bar at Tiffany, attempting to catch her attention.
Turning her head, she cast her eyes back over his square shoulders, they could have been carved from oak, his chest almost splitting the lumberjack shirt that stretched across his torso as he drew breath.
"You talking to me sweetface?" She asked, a sly smirk appearing.
"Hell yeah." Sutton shouted back over, his friends falling quiet. "That stool looks pretty uncomfortable, you sitting all the way up there."
"I'm fine." She replied, turning to grab her vodka and flipping the bartender a ten dollar bill.
"Are you sure?" He asked, laughter beginning to escape his mouth, the light bouncing unevenly off his broken nose. "Because you can come sit on my face if you fancy baby doll."
The laughter erupted from the table as Bill's friends grabbed their beers and hollered in amusement, Tiffany never taking her eyes from Sutton's face, his attention quickly drawn to the fact she had not intention of backing down. As the volume died down, Sutton became agitated at Tiffany's constant glare, barking at her again as his humour gave way to a pissed off demeanour.
"You got something you wanna say sweetheart?" He growled.
Tiffany span on her stool, her long legs crossed immaculately under her near perfect torso as she clapped her hands together and leaned slightly forward, her mouth doing its usual thing and running on autopilot.
"I'm just wondering why a man as well built as yourself would want me to sit on his face." She asked, a puzzled look on her pretty face. "Maybe... That's your way of owning up to the fact that your nose is bigger than your dick!"
She gave a giggle of laughter as the table feel eerily silent, Sutton standing up as one of his friends put an arm up to stop him, the gesture batted away as Sutton grabbed the morning paper and stomped from behind the table before making his way to the bar, Tiffany suddenly wishing she'd kept her mouth shut. As he came to a stop, he threw the paper on the bar, the front page visible out of the corner of Tiffany's eye, Chucky's picture once more making the news. Her attention suddenly diverted, she felt a hand across the back of her head as Sutton's palm came crashing across it, almost knocking her off the stool, in fact it probably would have done, had he not caught her by the throat as she fell forward.
"Now you listen to me." He sneered at her through gritted teeth, his face bright red, anger and embarrassment rippling through him as he spoke. "We've already got rid of one dirty sack of shit this week, I'm sure we'd be doing the world a favour if we helped put you in the same hole as this fucking asshole! Besides which, it seems he was more interested in some slut he had tied up in his fucking basement than some cheap, junky, whore like you!"
She choked, struggling for breath as her eyes began to well up, her hands desperately clawing at Sutton's forearm, scratching as she frantically tried to prise him away from her. As she gasped, he leaned in and whispered in her ear.
"That fucking loser ain't here to protect you any more baby." His voice sent a chill down her spine, the threat hitting home as he took pleasure in antagonising her. "Now if I were you, I'd go home and OD on some of that shit I've seen you cramming up your nose. Because if I ever see you around here again..."
He paused...
"I'll kill you..." She could feel his warm breath on her ear as he finally relinquished his grasp on her throat, Tiffany rocking back and taking a deep breath, the tears streaming down her cheeks. As she sat, shaking, Sutton turned to walk off, turning his head slightly as he delivered his final words.
"But only after I've had some fun with you..."
The young man watching from behind the bar seemed shocked, his face dropping open, speechless as Sutton grabbed his paper and returned to his friends, throwing the paper onto the table top and declaring quite loudly that he needed to take a leak. As Tiffany watched, a spark ignited inside her chest as she stood from the stool and raced from the bar, the cold air hitting her like a ton of weights as she stared straight back over to Gerry Goldmith's pawn shop.
The door flew open as Gerry, mop in one hand, brush in the other turned to address his new customer, a double take as he noticed it was Tiffany, his body freezing on the spot. He closed his eyes as she marched towards him, the footsteps loud as her heels smacked against the floor, travelling straight past him and behind the now open counter as Gerry opened his eyes and looked at her in confusion. Pulling the stolen wedding ring of Keith Allen from her bag and slamming it on the glass counter, Tiffany fixed him a stare and spoke.
"Store credit!" She grunted as she turned on the spot and grabbed the knife/nail file hanging from the wall behind her and marched straight back the way she came, the door crashing shut as Gerry stood completely silent, puzzled as to what had just happened.
As she returned to O'Grady's bar, a few heads turned and stared, none interested enough to take more than a second to glance at her before returning to their boring little lives. As she headed past her drink, her feet hardly touching the ground, Tiffany headed down the corridor situated near the end of the bar and almost jogged to the men's restroom situated right at the far end.
'Nice and quiet' She thought as she reached the door, looking back up the incredibly long, narrow corridor to make sure she wouldn't be interrupted.
Swinging the door open she took a step inside, an open door frame, no door, awaiting as she walked through and into the filthy, grime riddled men's room. There in front of her stood Bill Sutton, his back to her as he leaned forward, one hand wrapped around his penis, the other hand up, flat against the wood panelled wall and supporting him as he urinated against the tiles, the steady stream of urine flowing into the makeshift trough chiselled in the ground, flowing freely into the alley out back. As he looked up and into the mirror in front of his face, he caught Tiffany in his reflection and gave a smile.
"I get it." He smugly exclaimed. "That little episode got your fires burning too did it?"
Tiffany didn't say a word. Merely waiting for an opportunity.
"That's okay," His eyes returned to his urine as it sprayed back off the tiles. "You don't have to say anything..."
It was at this moment Tiffany raced forward, her hand held aloft, the knife glistening in the sunlight as it beamed in through the narrow windows of the restroom, Sutton catching sight of it at the very last second as he felt the twisted end of the knife sink through his hand held flat against the wall, and into the wood beneath, the force enough to more or less staple him to the wall as his legs buckled from under him, his body flopping backwards as the knife became the only thing supporting his weight. His legs flailing, skidding across the ururine soaked tiles of the floor, he began to cry out in pain, twisting his head upwards to look at the handle of the knife sticking out of the wall, of his hand. He hadn't even noticed Tiffany brush herself off and walk straight past him.
'click-click' as her heels struck the ceramic flooring.
She reached the solitary bathroom stall, almost kicking the door from its hinges, disappearing inside as Sutton's attention turned to the unsettling scraping noise of ceramic, Tiffany ripping the lid from the cistern of the toilet. Slowly emerging, the huge chunk of heavy porcelain in her hands she slowly walked back to Bill, trapped.
'Click-click.'
Without saying a word, she fixed him a smile as she swung both hands back and brought the cistern lid smashing into his face, his nose instantly breaking once more, teeth flying free from the gums and landing across the restroom, his cheek fracturing on impact as he squealed in agony. Once more he turned to her, dazed, disorientated as he caught a glance of the porcelain crash into his face once more, almost knocking him out cold. At this point his body went limp, Tiffany reaching up and placing the sole of her heel flat against the wall, pulling with both hands as the knife eventually came free of the wall. As Sutton's body flopped lifelessly to the ground, she placed the nail file knife into her bag and once more picked up the ceramic lid, raising it high over her head as she arced her back, all strength exploding in one monumental effort as she gallantly brought the heavy cistern lid crashing down across Sutton's face once more, the porcelain exploding into thousands of pieces as Sutton's face fractured underneath, the bloody pulp before her no longer resembling the man she had only moments ago been powerless to defend herself against. Kneeling besides him, she slipped her hands into his pockets, his flaccid member still hanging free, his zipper down as he involuntarily continued to urinate. Pulling her hand free, Tiffany produced a wallet from Bill's pocket, smiling and giving a little laugh as she dropped it in her bag before standing to leave. She could hear him breathing, snorting as the blood filled his airways, slowly beginning to choke him as she rubbed her hands together and headed for the exit, finding an 'Out Of Order' sign hanging from the back of the restroom door. Snatching at it she hung it on the hook outside and returned to the bar sadistic glee tearing up her spine. As she approached her drink she noticed people still enthralled in their own lives, no attention paid to her as she made her way seamlessly from the restroom to the bar, grabbing her vodka and downing it in one before flashing the bartender a wink and sliding the now empty glass back across the bar to him.
"Nothing like a quiet drink." She smiled as she turned and headed for the street outside, stopping by the late Bill Sutton's table and grabbing his paper from the centre of his astonished entourage.
Something Sutton had just said didn't sit well with her...
What the fuck had Chucky been playing at?