A Fountain Filled With Blood by Julia Spencer-Fleming Page B

Two guys his own age lounged in front of the candy display, one of them leafing through this month’s
Cinemagic
magazine. They wore low-slung, wide-legged jeans cropped at the shins and backward-facing baseball caps, which made them look, in Todd’s opinion, like morons. “Didn’t see any there?” He glanced at the rack. “Hang on—I got some more in the back. If you guys are checking anything out, Friday’s our three-for-two special. Rent any two, get the third for free. Limit on one new release only.”
    The Jujube guy grinned. “Hell yes, we’re checking something out.” He swaggered toward Todd, leading with his pelvis, looking him up and down. It was an overt, exaggeratedly sexual gesture, which made the hair on the back of Todd’s neck rise. He licked his upper lip and glanced at the other guy, who still leaned against the counter, flipping the magazine, opening and closing the cover so that Patrick Stewart appeared and disappeared between flashes of the other guy’s smirking face. Todd had been beaten up too many times in high school not to recognize what these guys wanted.
    “We heard you got something special in the back room,” Jujube guy said. He was close enough that Todd could feel the heat and excitement radiating off his body. “Some special movies.”
    Patrick Stewart appeared and disappeared, his face grave. Todd thought he might be saying that he should beam the hell out of this scene.
    “Like those old gladiator flicks,” the guy with the magazine said. “Except for grown-ups.”
    “So, whaddaya say?” Jujube guy reached both arms over his head and cracked his back. “Gonna show us some of that gay-bo porn? I always wondered how guys do guys.”
    “I’d rather see chicks on chicks myself,” the other guy said.
    “That ain’t gay, asshole. You can see that in any porn flick. You’re missin’ the point.”
    Todd backed away slowly, keeping his trembling arms relaxed, forcing his face into an unalarmed expression. He thought he might throw up at any moment. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t carry any X-rated stock. There’s a convenience store outside Fort Henry that rents videos; they have a small selection.” If he could get to the back room, he could lock the door and call the cops. “Let me grab you those Jujubes and I can show you the address in the phone—” His words were choked off as an arm circled around his neck, clamping him tightly against an unseen chest. Oh, sweet God, there had been a third one in the store and he hadn’t even realized. He flailed against the man behind him, kicking backward, clawing at his head.
    “Ow! Help me with this pussy, you assholes!”
    Jujube guy punched Todd in the stomach, and he lunched forward, retching. The man behind him let go of his neck, clenching his hair in a fist and twisting one arm behind his back. Todd cried out. His wrist was forced higher, wrenching every joint in his arm. Todd bowed forward, straining on tiptoe to loosen the grip that was forcing his muscles and tendons to their limits, but the fist in his hair held him tightly against his invisible tormentor as he vibrated between pain and pain. “I got money in my cash register,” he said, his voice reedy and desperate. “Please, just take it. Take whatever you want and go. Please.” The last word cracked.
    Todd felt a hard tug as his hair was yanked upward once, twice. “You really got me there with some of those kicks, pussy,” the unseen man behind him said. “Now I gotta hurt you bad.”
    “Hey, man, let’s get the money. It’s no fancy electronic safe system or nothing. He’s probably got a wad of cash in there.”
    “Shut up,” the man behind Todd said. “You know the deal. Nothin’ gets taken.”
    “How’s he gonna know?”
    “No. Now put the goddamn magazine down and help me with this fag.”
    The last thing Todd thought, in the moment before all his thoughts were wiped away, was how businesslike they sounded. Like in
Pulp