Petulant Creature

By das es

The foul beasts await! A highly advanced organization murders entrepreneur Trent Eisner one night, and his family sets out to avenge him. The main suspect is Lee Strauss, an ally-turned-rival businessman. Trent's eldest son, Faust, hires a hustler, Matt, to penetrate Lee's gang. Matt uncovers the group's darkest secrets, their Petulant Creatures.

• Language: English
• Publisher: das es
• Release date: Jul 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223137764

das es

I died in 2021. The state partially buried me near the California Kern River. I lived a short and turbulent life. No one survives me. If you're reading this, know that you're still reading this. Finally, I used to have a third nut. Thank you.

Book preview

Chapter 1

It was midnight, and rain tapped against the basement window. Coz, in his soiled tighty whities, was tied to a metallic chair. The stench of piss and shit permeated the stuffy room. He had cuts and bruises everywhere, and blood dribbled down his chest and abdomen. Coz was nineteen, half-white and half-Mexican. Usually, he was a lanky pretty boy with a cocky smirk.

Gary, a youthful, twenty-eight-year-old Asian woman, stood before him and next to a metallic tray containing a Glock 43X. Jon, a twenty-five-year-old with bulging eyes, stood behind Coz. Two hulking Black guys, Khalil and Diogenes, stood in the shadows behind Jon. Khalil was broader, and Diogenes was taller.

Coz was tearful as he stared at Gary. His brows worked overtime as he tried to get her attention. She stared at the floor. Please, please, he mouthed as he leaned forward.

Jon kicked his chair. Quit, he snarled.

The door opened from above, and Coz lifted his head and whimpered. Suddenly, a thick door closed over the window, and the room fell momentarily silent. Soon, heavy, clumsy footsteps descended the steel stairs.

Lee appeared. He was a middle-aged gentle giant with a nearly bald head and beady blue eyes. Lee staggered over to Coz and Gary. Coz, he slurred in a soft voice.

Sir, Coz sniveled.

Three grand and some change. Quite the chunk.

"I’m so sorry—"

Jon kicked his chair again, and Lee glanced at Jon. What did you plan to do with the money? Lee asked.

Mom’s surgery, Coz replied.

Your mother, who lives in Cozumel, Lee muttered.

Yes, sir.

How much you raise on your own?

Ten-K.

And how much more does she need? Coz’s brows furrowed. How much is her surgery?

Fifteen-K.

Okay. Lee stared at the Glock for a few seconds and picked it up. I was good to you, Coz. How old were you when I took you in?

Coz stammered through tears. Fourteen.

And you were on all kinds of shit, Lee muttered. Coz nodded. I was like a father to you. Lee looked at Gary, who glanced up without making eye contact. And you were loyal—until now. Lee grabbed the barrel and handed the gun to Gary. Your mother’s surgery checks out. Back surgery. Gary took the weapon. Never fuck with me again. I won’t be as nice.

Jon’s mouth fell open. Wha—sir? he mumbled with an uneasy smirk.

Cut him loose. Get him clean. Get him something to eat.

Jon snickered. Sir, you—can’t—

You heard him! Gary barked.

Jon and Gary stared at each other as Khalil and Diogenes freed Coz. Lee leaned toward Gary and whispered, See to it he gets the other two grand. He then left.

Gary paused, took a deep breath, and looked at Jon, who was still eyeballing her. What is your fucking problem? she asked.

He rolled his eyes and jerked his shoulder. Doesn’t even matter. He stormed out.

Prick, Gary grumbled and glanced at Coz.

Thank you, he mouthed.

She shook her head and left.

***

Matt was twenty and looked like a young Dolph Lundgren without muscles.

On a Friday evening, he lounged with two roommates in their filthy living room. They watched TV, played on their electronics, and shared a weed pipe. Matt wore his greasy Waffle House uniform, and his bare feet were dirty. Y’all better have rent! their fourth roommate bellowed as she sped by with her nerdy boyfriend. Moments later, a door slammed shut.

They appeared unfazed.

Matt looked down at his Samsung and noticed a text from Doobie. He leaned forward, hesitated, and got up. Booty call, one of his roommates mumbled.

Matt went to the kitchen and called Doobie. Trevor? Matt asked.

Scar.

I really hate that shit.

Then how about I call you Fart Knocker? Listen, get your hand off your dick and make this money.

Matt glanced at his watch. Have plans—

You don’t want to miss this one. Girl’s loaded. Meet me at Bo’s in an hour. Doobie hung up.

***

Matt met Doobie outside of Bo’s. Doobie was in his early twenties and looked like a Dennis Rodman copycat. Matt was wearing skinny jeans and a loose flannel over a Nirvana T-shirt. Doobie observed his clothes. Maybe make a little effort next time, Doobie said.

It’s hard—

Car. Matt hopped into Doobie’s old Buick, and Doobie peeled out. Doobie turned down his blaring Tyler, the Creator. "First time working together—some ground rules. These people are rich and private. Keep it that way."

People?

She comes from wealth.

She hot?

Does it matter?

Matt arched