The Devil's Pact - S01 E172

Story 1 month ago

The Devil's Pact - S01 E172

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 172

"Oh," Betty said, looking confused. "And that's what the police think?"

"Of course, that's what happened," I said.

"Right," she said. "Call me if you need anything. Mrs. Glassner."

"I will, sweetie," my mom said, fondly. "I'll call in a few days."

"Sure," Betty said. "You take care, okay."

"You too, Betty, replied mom, squeezing her hand.

That nagging thought that my mom was having an affair wouldn't go away. I noticed that she had lipstick on, smudged, and mascara ran down her face from her tears. Why would she have makeup on if she was just hanging out in the house on a Saturday night. I wondered who she could be having an affair with. It was mindboggling. My mom was so straitlaced, I just couldn't believe that she'd cheat on my dad. Not that I'd blame her, my dad was an asshole.

I pulled out my cell phone and called the house. "Glassner residence," a bored Allison answered. Allison was one of our sex slaves, our first actually, a sexy teenage nympho.

"Get all the sluts out of the house," I ordered. "Go next door."

"Yes, Master," Allison quickly answered. "Is everything all right, we heard from the bodyguards that something wrong?"

"Just clear the house," I ordered, suddenly angry. I wasn't even sure what I was angry about.

"Sorry for questioning you, Master," Allison apologized. "The house will be emptied."

I hung up and saw Mary was helping my mom into the back seat of the Mustang. My mom sat in the back, quiet. Her face was blank, her eyes dead, as she stared down at her open hands. 23 followed in her patrol car as we headed home. The entire drive was filled with uncomfortable silence. Mary kept opening her mouth, wanting to say something, but just couldn't seem to find the words, and would close her lips.

"Should we order a pizza, or something?" Mary asked as we pulled into the driveway. "I mean..." she trailed off. Her stomach gave a guilty rumble and she flushed.

We had been on our way to dinner when my mom called and I shrugged. "I guess. And a bottle of wine or three." Then caught Mary's hand and kissed her palm. "I love you," whispered. "We'll go out to dinner Monday night, okay."

"Oh, it's alright," Mary said with a shrug.

"We have to go to Seattle anyways," I said. "To buy the land." We were planning on building a mansion on the giant, empty lot behind our house. It was supposed to be a housing development before the housing bubble burst. It had a magnificent view of Mount Rainier.

"Sure," Mary said, smiling.

Mary led my mom up into the house. She seemed lost, not aware of her surroundings. I found a bottle of red wine, probably a good vintage. Brandon Fitzsimmons, the original owner of the house, seerned to have good taste in wines. I took his house and made his wife, Desiree, our sex slave. Brandon, however, seemed to be fighting back against my orders. He sent the FBI to raid my house on Thursday. I would need to track him down.

I called Pizza Hut and ordered a couple of pizzas, meat lover for me and a half Hawaiian (for Mary) and half Veggie Lover (for my mom). I gave them Brandon's credit card to pay for the order. While I had a lot of money in the basements from my bank robberies, it amused me to make Brandon pay for things.

"I'm sorry, sir, the card came back declined," the bored teenager on the line said. I guess Brandon finally canceled his cards.

"Cash then," I said and hung up.

Mary had my mom seated on the couch and I handed mom a wine glass. She stared at it for a moment and then downed it in a single gulp. My mom wasn't one for drinking. Maybe a glass of wine when she saw my aunts once a year, at most. I poured her a second and she sipped it.

Mary was sitting next to her, a supporting arm around my mom. I sat down on the other side and took my mom's hand, squeezing it. "It's okay." I told her. "Everything's going to be fine."

She looked up at me and I saw some life in her dead eyes. "I killed him, Mark. I shot him in the back. How's that going to be okay."

"Why, mom? Why did you shot him?" asked, squeezing her hand.

"I'll still love you, no matter why. Even if he wasn't trying to hurt you. He was a bastard."

"He was," she whispered. "I...I was..." her voice quivered. "I...I..."

"You were with someone else, I said, carefully. Part of me hoped it wasn't true. My mom couldn't be having an affair. She was too nice, too wholesome, to do something as sordid as that.

"Yes," she said. "I...I had been seeing someone for a few years."

Her confusion rocked my foundations. My mother was so straitlaced. So good and proper. To find out she'd been having an affair, for years, was so surprising. My mom refused to leave my dad. She loved him, she was a good Christian, all the excuses she gave, and then to find out she was cheating on him. Wow.

I studied my mother. At forty-three she had a great body. She was short, petite. She had always exercised everyday, keeping in shape, and it paid off. Her figure was as fit as any twenty year old. Her face had transformed from her pretty and youthful face she had when I was a child into the mature and beautiful face she had now, only slightly marred by a few wrinkles.

"You don't hate me, do yo Mark?" my mom asked. "B-because I'm a ch-cheating whore." She started sobbing again.

I brushed a strand of brown hair from her face. "It's okay. You're not a cheating whore," I told her. "Dad was pig. He didn't deserve you. You deserved some happiness, mom. So he caught you and your...uh...boyfriend?"

My mom wiped at her tears, an almost grateful smile on her face, for a moment. "Yeah, my b-boyfriend," she nodded, flushing, the almost smile gone. "We were in bed. He was supposed to be playing poker all night with his friends. He was so angry when he caught us. My lover fled and I locked myself in the bathroom. He pounded on the door and then he said something about teaching a lesson. I thought he was going after...after my lover. So, I left the bathroom, grabbed the shotgun in the closet and shot him in the back as he stumbled down the hallway."

"So it was self-defense," I said. "Or at least, you stopped him from hurting someone. So don't feel guilty."

"Was he going to hurt my lover?" my mom asked, desperately. "What if he was just storming off, disgusted with me. There was so much pain in his eyes when he saw us. I never wanted to hurt him.