Free Three Twisted Stories by Karin Slaughter

He snatched the hat off the chicken and threw it at Deacon.
    Deacon missed the toss. “Jesus, Chuckles. No need to get hysterical.”
    “I am not hysterical,” Charlie said, hearing the hysteria in his own voice. He tried to sound calm, but all he could manage was to hiss the words through his teeth. “I said don’t put the hat on the chicken.”
    He turned on his heel and walked toward his office. He felt the heat of Deacon’s gaze on his back. Let him stare. Charlie didn’t give a shit. He was so tired of getting pushback on everything he said. Charlie made thousands of decisions every day. He didn’t have time to explain the reasons behind them. And he shouldn’t have to. This was
his
dealership. This was
his
company.
    Charlie felt tears in his eyes. He was so angry that he felt his throat closing. He wanted to go back and scream at Deacon, but he knew how his brother worked. Somehow, he would manage to make it look like Charlie was the crazy one.
    “Fuck it,” Charlie said. He pushed open the door to his office. He put his briefcase on thefloor when what he really wanted to do was throw it through the window.
    He stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips.
    What fresh hell awaited him today? Going by Finkelmeyer, the whole fucking building would burn down.
Let it burn
, Charlie thought. And then he chastised himself for going to such a dark place. Deacon wasn’t his only employee. The guys in the back respected him. The porters never questioned Charlie’s decisions. They did what he said and were happy to take their paychecks.
    “Am I interrupting?” Darla stood in his office doorway. “Just checking if you want some coffee. I just put on a fresh pot.”
    “Sure.” Charlie started toward the door.
    “I’ll get it.” Darla gave him a curious look. “You want a doughnut, too?”
    “No thanks. I’m trying to watch my weight.” Charlie wiped his eyes as he walked over to his chair. He hoped Darla wasn’t going to tell the other secretaries that he’d been crying.
    Charlie sat down at his desk. He looked around his office. Why had he ever thought this shithole made him look successful? All the furniture was chrome and leather, looking every bit of the discount Charlie got from the guy who sold it to him. The paneling on the walls was buckled. The framed photos of him with the old mayor, the new mayor, and any other dignitary who was willing to stand in front of a camera with him were kind of braggy. And his desk was huge. There was no point in having a desk this large. All it did was collect paperwork. And dust. Charlie ran his hand along the back edge. How much was he paying the cleaning crew? Why was it the only way a job got done right around here was if Charlie did it himself?
    The phone on his desk rang. Charlie answered because Darla was busy getting his coffee. “Lam Auto Sales.”
    “Mr. Lam?”
    Charlie felt a pebble lodge in his throat. “Mr. Chop.”
    “Going to the game tomorrow night?”
    Charlie hesitated. This was off script. “If you think I should.”
    “I heard about your altercation.”
    Charlie sat up in his chair. He pictured Mike Thevis outside the kitchen window last night watching Charlie try to fuck himself.
    “Finkelmeyer.” Thevis said the word like it left a bad taste in his mouth. “Fuckin’ coon.Who knew?”
    Charlie knew, but he didn’t say.
    “People hiding like that. Thinking they can pass. Makes me sick, you know.”
    Charlie said nothing.
    “Mr. Lam?”
    “Yes, Mr. Chop?”
    “You’re not hiding anything?”
    Charlie felt his stomach drop. “No, sir.”
    “Good,” Thevis said. “I’m sure it’ll be easier for you today.”
    “Today?”
    “When you go to pick up your suit.”
    Charlie swallowed. Just the thought of going back to the dry cleaner’s made him feel like he was going to wet his pants. “Yes, sir. I’ll be there as soon as—”
    There was a click on the other end of the line.
    Charlie hung up the phone. Did Thevis