Toxic

by A. C. Bextor

  Gently she holds her hand out, giving me the tool I asked her for. She’s hesitant to get any closer, not that I blame her at this point. She doesn’t know me. I’m not groomed and probably still smell like piss.

  Within a few seconds I’ve got the lock picked and her car door hanging wide open. When I look back to her, I see tears have flooded her eyes and she’s standing there gaping at me with her mouth open. Damn, it wasn’t anything. I could have done it blindfolded, but I’ve never been one to brag.

  I hold her stare for just a second, but I don’t want her weeping around me so I ask her. “Ma’am, you alright?”

  She comes out of her trance with my words. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. I just didn’t expect…”

  “It’s good. We’re good.” I start to push my bike away from her car where I left it before asking for the hanger. Before I mount it completely, she stops me by calling my name.

  “Neil, wait.”

  Rolling my eyes before turning back to her I straighten my shoulders, expecting the harsh reality of any situation that comes with my life. I need to play it cool and, as always, unaffected.

  She motions her hands to me, asking me to come back to her. Once I get closer she looks into my eyes. “Thank you for helping me. I can’t just let you walk away. I need to pay you. You really helped me out of a pinch and I certainly appreciate it.”

  “Umm, it wasn’t a problem. It’s no big deal.”

  “Maybe to you, but I’m in your debt. Tell me how I can pay you, what would you like?”

  I don’t look at her as I say it, although she probably won’t be surprised. “Do you have any snacks? I dropped my lunch back there and didn’t go back for it.” I’m a liar, but I’m hungry and would like to maintain some dignity if that’s possible.

  “Yes, Neil, I can pay you in food since you did this for me. I want you to join us for dinner tonight at five thirty. It’s almost two now, so that’s three and half hours. Do you know how to tell time?”

  I’m not insulted by her insinuation that I’m too stupid to know how to read a clock. She’s being so nice and I appreciate her honesty, even though it’s hidden under her thanks.

  “Are you sure? I mean, you don’t owe me anything. I told you already, we’re good.”

  Placing her hands on her hips, she lets out a dramatic sigh. “Neil, don’t argue with me. I’ll see you tonight. I’m making Salisbury steak with stuffing, mash potatoes, and brown gravy. Does that sound like something you would enjoy?”

  God, she is an angel sent from heaven. Just the idea of having dinner in that house, with this woman, makes my heart swell in my chest.

  “Alright, I’ll be here at five thirty. That’s three and a half hours from now.” I grin, letting her know I’m familiar with a clock and I happen to have a memory that spans more than twenty five seconds. Moving her arm towards me, I don’t even flinch as I normally would find myself doing. She uses the palm of her hand to caress my cheek, gently rubbing dirt away from my under my eye.

  Just as I had allowed myself to enjoy her touch, I hear an angry voice coming outside from the front door. This kid is about my age, maybe a bit younger. He’s on the hefty side and short and holy fuck, he’s just as pissed off as she was a few minutes ago.

  “Mama, I can’t find the damn key! Whaddya want me to do now?” He finally looks up from his boots and contemplates the scene in front of him. “What the hell? How’d you do that?”

  I don’t answer him, because the angel answers for me. “Patrick, this is Neil. Be nice and say hello, for goodness sakes, and watch your mouth around company.”

  “Sorry, Mama.” He takes his eyes to me and nods, cool like, as if he were already grown up. “Hi. Thanks for doing … that … whatever you did. My mom gets crabby when she’s stressed.”

  She walks to Patrick, wraps her arm around his shoulders, at the same time she looks down and smiles at him.

  Lucky son of a bitch.

  “Okay, I’m gonna to go then. Nice to meet you both.” I turn around, never intending to return, but again, she won’t let me leave without a commitment.

  “Neil, dinner remember? Patrick and I won’t eat until you get here, so don’t keep us waiting, okay?”

  “Thank you … ma’am…” I don’t even know her name.

  “Lynda, my name is Lynda Cash. See you then.”

  I look at her, still holding Patrick close into her side, only now rather than looking at me with pity, she looks at me like I’m her new best friend that she’s thankful to have. I stare for a few more minutes and as if she can read my mind, she walks to me and embraces me in a hug.

  I sigh into her, because I was right - she smells good, too.

  ~~~~~

  “Two thirty, don’t make me send Mace to find you. She will gather the women of the tribe and you’ll both wish it were me that came to hunt you down instead.”

  I’m ignored. The game is in full swing again, and both Honor and Gunner are engrossed in it to the point they are no longer partaking in activities in the real world.

  Un-fuckin’-believable.

  Chapter Five

  “Blessed are the hearts that can bend; they shall never be broken.”

  -Albert Camus

  After leaving dumb and dumber upstairs to continue the assault against an imaginary army of sorts, I head back downstairs to tell Hem I’m going to run a few unexpected errands. My mind still isn’t clear, even after talking to him. Before I pledge my soul to Mace, I want it without obstruction. Not for me, but for her. It’s what she deserves.

  When I make my way back to the bar, I see Hem has a very pregnant Sadey wrapped in his arms as she sits on his lap resting her head back on his shoulder, finding comfort in his hold. She looks exasperated and miserable in this state. The woman is the size of a small house and yet she’s still just as beautiful as ever.

  Sadey went through hell after the assault Greyson and Warren forced on Hem, but mustered enough strength to carry and deliver a child through that torment. I’m so proud of her for that. She’s stronger than anyone has ever given her credit for.

  “Alright, Hem. You know what’s going on upstairs? Jesus, it’s the most ridiculous scene I’ve ever witnessed from those two. I know we’re older and wiser and all that shit, but c’mon … that tops anything we’ve ever done.”

  Hem laughs under Sadey, and she winces in discomfort as she sits up a bit to get some space. She’s looking at me now, scowling for ruining her quiet moment with her caveman.

  Keep looking at me like that, Sadey. You wouldn’t be so damn uncomfortable all the time if you didn’t enjoy that caveman clawing at you constantly, and you’ve already got Patrick, so you know he’s a potent motherfucker.

  “They play it all night. Seriously, they even have pretend friends in lobbies that meet them. Weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. If I ever told my mother I wanted to play inside while the sun was still shining, I would have gotten a stiletto to the ass.”

  He’s right. Lynda was all about the kids playing outside. She conned us into planting flowers, building treehouses, swimming at the lake … anything to keep our asses from being parked in front of a television.

  Unless “Knight Rider” re-runs were on. Then she gave up trying to get us out of the room. Knight’s super car 'K.I.T.T.' was badass, and everyone fucking knew it.

  “Shame…” Sadey looks ornery. This outta be good. “Are you ready to become Mr. Mace Cash tonight?”

  Yep, knew it. The little kitten wants to play in the lion’s den. Claws out, Sadey girl.

  I walk to her aggressively, fooling her only for a second that I’m pissed at her childlike torture. I know how to get Sadey to shut her mouth. She hates when I do this, but it gives me back the upper hand and the women in my life deserve some form of torture for putting me through what they do on a daily fuckin’ basis.

  Giving her a chance to opt out of this brutal conversation, I stop my dissent and ask her. “Sadey, honey, you really want to pick at this?”

&nb
sp; She smiles and turns into Hem’s neck for approval to play with me. He rolls his eyes at us both. He knows this will be guaranteed entertainment at her expense, not mine, and his little woman is earning every bit of what’s comin’ to her.

  “It’s just a label, Shame. Don’t get spun up.” Now she’s trying to placate me.

  Nervous, baby?

  After lookin’ into Hem’s face for approval, I don’t hesitate to pull the trigger on her embarrassment. “Sadey, they could call me the Queen of England for all I fuckin’ care. It’s a label I don’t mind, just as long as I get to taste her for the rest of my life. She tastes like sugar laced with mint when she cums and, God Almighty, her mouth is like a….”

  I hear Sadey gasp before I take my eyes from a now smiling Hem as she cuts me off.

  “Stop! Are you crazy, you sick bastard? Damn it, can you ever not be crass? That’s my best friend you’re talking about like that.”

  I laugh as I lean into her, kissing her cheek, lingering a bit too long for her comfort, but I wink at Hem behind her, so he knows I’m not done fuckin’ with her. He smiles. This is his way of giving me the go ahead.

  I lean down so I can get close to her ear and whisper. “Jealous much, baby? Ya know, Hem and I used to share, is that why you’re trying to play with me? Darlin’, tell me what you want.”

  She pushes me away from her instantly, nervous of Hem’s reaction. “You’re an ass. Mace would have your nuts if she heard you talk to me like that.”

  Tit for tat, sweetheart.

  Grinning, I step back. “I win. Don’t fuck with me again, Sadey. The flush on your face is evidence of your lessoned learned. I’m crass and Mace likes me that way. Actually, she fuckin’ loves my mouth and….”

  “Okay! Stop, please. You’re giving me a headache. You win.”

  There, she admits it herself. Now I can fist pump in the air. I may not have saved the imaginary world, but I sure as shit humbled my little friend into shutting the hell up.

  Using both hands, Hem starts to massage her swollen belly. She puts her hands on top of his and holds them still. I don’t want to imagine that it’s turning her on, but her face and neck are blushing severely and she’s starting to rock against him, creating friction from his knee as he moves it underneath her.

  Yeah right, like I’m the vulgar one in all of us. I’m just not afraid to say what the hell I want.

  Jealousy eats at me knowing Hem is having another child, a boy of course. Fuckin’ asshole. I’m thankful he gets to see this one to term, but not so thankful that I’m not green with envy.

  “I’m outta here, man. I have shit I want to wrap up before I head to the church in a few hours.” I turn my back on the happy couple and head towards the door.

  “Shame.” Hem’s tone is serious; he’s worried about our earlier conversation. I don’t blame him, I’m in a strange place right now with everything, except my love for her.

  I turn back to look at him with a smile on my face, so he knows I’m okay. “Yeah?”

  “You alright?”

  “I’m good.”

  As I look at him and Sadey still sitting together as he continues to span his hand across her stomach, another memory comes to me; this one hurts. Of all the things that happened to me as a kid; the beatings, lies, hunger, and being made to run drugs at the age of nine, what hurt the most was leaving my new family behind for a fresh life of hell.

  ~~~~~

  Witnessing the love Warren, Patrick’s step-dad, has for Lynda and the love she gives to Patrick, I know my life here is all dark colors of fucked up. It’s abusive and scary at best. I don’t know freedom from violence and hate and I’m growing accustomed to it.

  I’m stirred from sleep with a familiar noise that makes my blood boil. I’m still a kid, just turning twelve. I move the covers off my sweat ridden body and get out of bed. The air conditioning took a hit and dad hasn’t replaced or fixed it, so I’m suffocating. Between that and the suspense that devours my life on a daily basis, I live in a constant state of panic and sweat.

  Once I make it back to the living room I see my dad wailing on my mom with all his power. She softens for him to continue his physical and verbal bashing. She’s given up on shielding herself, she knows if she fights the poundings it will only be worse. He likes us to fight back, so fuck him, why give him the satisfaction?

  “You’re a fuckin’ whore. You think I don’t see you and your friend Switch sharing looks and your little useless silent moments of lust? You’re a fuckin’ slut.”

  He pounds his fist at her face again as she sits with her back against the wall, looking practically lifeless. She’s not crying, and at this point I’m thankful she’s high so I don’t have to listen to her screams of terror.

  It’s not until he utters words that cause both she and I cringe. “We’re leaving. We’re taking our shit and moving to Columbus. Fuck Switch, fuck the deal, and fuck the money. You’ve ruined everything just by being who you are; a good for nothing piece of shit. You’ve got one hour to pack what we’re taking; get the kid, and then we’re outta here.”

  Mom instantly becomes alert and responsive. “No! Please. Gary, I won’t go back. I swear, just don’t move us. We have it good here. You and I are good here. The boy has done everything you’ve asked. We can keep using him to run and the police won’t suspect anything. Gary, please, think about this.”

  She’s met with an open handed smack on her already swollen and bloodied face. I can’t move. He’s telling her he’s moving us out of this town and away from all I know. I’m never going to see Lynda or Patrick again. I can’t breathe for fear of crying.

  He takes his focus from my mom for a few seconds to inspect his aching hand. The son of a bitch is pissed his hand is sore from the thrashings he’s been dealing my mother for the last fifteen minutes.

  God, if you really exist and you’re here watching, please help me.

  My eyes are watering, a sign of weakness, and he sees it as he comes toward me with his hand raised. I’ve learned, like my mother, it’s better to not fight him on this. Just take the beating until he wears down or injures himself, and then repair myself the best I can with what unused medical supplies we have in the house.

  He looks at me directly in the eyes, as they continue to fill, and drops his hands. I wish he would strike me; at least it would dull this pain. He’s skilled with his ability to mentally abuse me, hurting me more with silence than a beating might.

  “You hearin’ me boy? Get your shit. One box, that’s all you’re taking. Make it fast. One fuckin’ hour.” He pushes me with his body so I move out of the way as he makes his way to the bathroom to shower and collect himself.

  My mom stares at me through her own tears. It’s been a long time that she’s looked at me with any type of consideration. The look has nothing to do with me though, she’s heartbroken because she’s leaving Switch. Blind to me, she and Switch have a thing. Meaning he provides her with drugs and keeps her high. She’s a whore, but she’s whoring herself out for pills and blow, not seeking love or money.

  Running to my room, I fill the one box that I’m allowed to take with all the things that Lynda has ever given me. These are just things. What I’m really taking with me is the hope she’s given to me this last year. She loves me unconditionally. Love doesn’t fill a box, it fills my heart and I’m taking it with me. My father will never get that. He doesn’t stand a chance.

  I’m crying as I finish filling the box with my clothes and mementos. When I’m done, all of five minutes later, I take the box and set it on the kitchen table, passing my mom in the process. “I’m going to Patrick’s to say goodbye, fuck you all if you have a problem with that.”

  I’ve never talked to her like that, but I don’t fuckin’ care. Let my dad try to stop me, he can’t kill me, I’m the drug runner … the unsuspecting teenage drug runner. I have a few years left in me for him to use before I become a suspect under the police department’s watchful eye. By that time, though, I�
�ll be long gone and away from these chains of torment.

  Climbing up on my bike, I wipe all remnants of useless tears filled with emotion, and make my way across the block to Patrick’s.

  As I pull up in his driveway I see Warren outside working in Lynda’s flowerbed he made for her last summer. He’s planting spring flowers. It’s odd to see him out of a suit, but this look on him creates an impressive illusion of the doting father and husband. He’s an ass that wears a suit, nothing more.

  Without looking up, he greets me. “Well, hello there, Neil.” Not just an ass, he’s a bull-shitter, as well. He doesn’t like me and generally when no one is around he cuts any idle chit chat or manners.

  “Hi, Mr. Cash. Are Lynda and Patrick around?”

  “In the house. Hem fucked up and dropped a jar of damn pickles, so his mother is inside trying to remove the stench and deal with him at the same time.”

  There’s the asshole in play right now and to think I had almost missed him. I don’t show him any further respect as I pass him and open the door to the house without knocking, I don’t have time to wait.

  “Hey there, honey.” Lynda’s expression falls as soon as she catches my tear stained face.

  She’s very pregnant with that dickhead's child, they just found out they were having a little girl. God, if only Lynda could see what I saw when I look at her. Then maybe she would understand he’s a monster and she’s living her life in mostly the same manner I am. We’re both somebody’s hostage. She could change it, make a difference in her life, but she refuses.

  “Hi.” It’s all I can mutter before I go running into her now open arms for a reassuring embrace and lose myself all over her pink and brown apron.

  She runs her fingers through my hair while using her voice to console me. After a few minutes, I’ve gathered myself and she’s controlled her emotions seeing me like this, she pulls me from her body putting her hands on my shoulders and looks me over to check if I’m physically okay.