Remembering where he put his drugs, Scar placed his gun on his nightstand beside his bed to look through its drawer. He dug through unopened condoms and rolling papers before pulling out a half gram of yellow-colored crunched-up crystal meth in a small ziplock bag. Currently, it was the hottest type of meth in Texas and Louisiana, but what he had was a cheap knockoff one of his men found being sold in Sunnyvale. He usually kept a small amount of cheap product handy for any woman who might want to take a bump, usually in exchange for them to be more deviant and slutty in the bedroom. Not like he needed any help getting laid, but it made things a lot easier. He used to partake in meth in his younger days, but stopped cold turkey nine years ago. That was the time his nephew was born. It was no coincidence; he knew that cleaning up his life would be a necessity to ensure a good upbringing for the boy. His nephew meant that much to him.
Scar quickly blocked out the thoughts of his nephew as he walked into the living room, with the bag of meth dangling from his fingertips. “Now, I'm gonna tell you again. I am not a drug dealer. You want meth? You buy it from the same people you always get it from. You don't come back here, got it?”
“I only came here because Tasha says you carry the best stuff for yourself. She says the stuff you give her is the shit.”
I gave Tasha some shitty knockoffs too. I swear, these kids nowadays...
“Yeah, this is good shit,” fibbed Scar. “You got the money?”
“Oh, yeah.” Jenny May quickly produced $60 from her small purse. “This should cover a half, right?”
Scar sarcastically sighed as he grabbed the cash from the girl's tiny hand. “This amount here is worth a bill.”
Her eyebrows raised so high that he was sure they were flying off of her forehead. “But...but I could buy a half a gram for that much at my dealer's house, and-”
“Does this look like your fucking dealer's house!?”
Jenny May's bottom lip quivered violently. He didn't want to display any anger toward her, but her idiocy was annoying him. Sixty dollars would be more than enough to cover such a poor grade of meth. But he knew he could get more out of her. There was an instinct within him to always try to get more. Plus, he had to get back at Tasha somehow.
“I...I can give you what I have and do something for you to pay off the rest, if you want.”
Scar wanted her to spell it out. “What are you going to do for me?”
“I can go down on you. That would be worth forty bucks, right?”
“Depends on how good of a job you do.”
She swallowed loudly again and picked at a scab on her face. She talked very confidently, but her non-verbal actions clearly showed how nervous she was. The girl truly believed she would walk in, buy a half gram of potent meth, and walk out in a simple and clean fashion. Who knows what that bitch Tasha told her. He'd have to find a different girl or girls to fool around with in his down time. Tasha had her perks; large breasts, a fairly big ass, and jet black hair. But there would always be others. That was another piece of advice his late older brother gave to him.
Taking a seat on the couch, Scar slammed back the remaining vodka, then sat the empty glass down on the coffee table, along with the bag of meth. After pushing the table back a bit, he took out his penis and scrotum, placing them over the stringed band of his shorts. A look of awe came over Jenny May's face. It was the same exact look most women display when they see the size of his cock. Even now, as well-traveled as he was sexually, it still made him smile to see that surprising expression. He was a large man in every facet.
Scar primed himself by rubbing his shaft and balls. When he felt he was adequately engorged, he motioned for Jenny May to come over. Knowing what it would take to get her fix, she fell to her knees and immediately took him inside her mouth. He inhaled through his mouth, then slowly exhaled through his nose, savoring the feeling of her warm lips around his member.
Yet, the novelty of the deed quickly wore off. He couldn't tell if she wasn't experienced, or if her style just wasn't to his approval. There was the sneaking suspicion that she was experienced to this type of payment for drugs, which also caused his libido to lessen. Regardless, he did his best to persevere, hoping he could will himself to cum quickly. He tried to imagine someone hotter and more voluptuous broad sucking his cock, but nothing was working.
Taking a break, Jenny May looked at him with a quirky smile on her face. “I have a question.”
“What?”
“Tasha told me your name is actually Scarborough Fair. Is that true?”
His left hand swiftly grabbed her jaw, with his thumb on one side and his index and middle fingers squeezing on the other side. He knew he could crush the hinges easily. The term ‘strong as an ox,’ fit him to a tee. Jenny May's eyes welled with tears instantly. He had no idea how she found out about his name. Hell, Scar wasn't even sure how Tasha found out about his full name. It caused him to be teased by other children growing up, but as he grew bigger and stronger, the heckling ceased. Especially after other kids found out about the beating would-be bullies received. Now, only the courageous or uninformed would call him by his full name. When he heard his entire name spoken, he would instinctively become violently angry. As the years went by, the amount of time he was angry would recede. He had grown mature enough to realize that a name was just a name. Even the most laughable and feminine of names could be salvaged by the man with the title. He was living proof of that.
Scar was still slightly angry as he loosened his grip on her jawbone. Breaking her bone would be a rather messy and unnecessary action. There were other ways to work off his frustration. Grabbing her petite body in his arms with ease, he carried her into his bedroom. Throwing her on the bed, he removed his tank top and lowered his shorts. The girl was too petrified to move. With a smirk on his face, he ripped off her sweatshirt, then removed a pair of black shorts that he discovered after her long top was off. She made languid attempts at struggling, but despite her present fear, he knew she wanted him inside of her. Very few women could resist his charms and appearance. It was likely that she didn't just come over for meth either. She probably didn’t even care that she would be stabbing her friend Tasha in the back by sleeping with him. There were very few females in the area that were not drawn to his presence.
He opened the drawer on his nightstand and pulled out a condom. For some reason, he feared receiving a disease from her. She just looked like the type of girl that had been around filth. As he was tearing off the outer packaging, he looked upon the nude body of Jenny May. Just like her legs, her pubic region was freshly shaven, though there were a few shave bumps that he did his best to ignore. Her black bra remained on, but he had no desire of removing it, as her breasts were almost nonexistent. While her figure wasn't what he looked for in a woman, he still felt his loins stir. What aroused him the most was her wide eyes, full of fear and wonder. There was something about having power, especially over a woman that aroused him.
Even with his mental acumen fully ready, he wasn’t there physically. Noticing he was no longer completely hard, he motioned for the girl to come help him. She raised up and grabbed him in her hands, stroking him rapidly and forcefully.
Scar looked down upon her with a condom in his left hand. “You do know that name pisses me the fuck off, right?”
Jenny May shook her head, her little lips quivering.
“Well...that is my first and middle name. My dad took advantage of Ma being all hopped up on pain killers. Pretty sure he was hopped up on LSD at that time.”
“Isn't it a song?” asked Jenny May.
“Yeah. Dad liked it. Came out a good decade or so before I was born.”
“Did you ever ask them why?”
“Fuck, of course I did, girl. Dad said once he came off his trip and realized what that birth certificate said, he started calling me Scar. He said it sounded like a real man's name. Made lemonade out of lemons, I guess.”
Jenny May took a deep breath, drawing in courage. “I think your
name is cool.”
Seeing he was finally hard and wanting to avoid further meaningless conversation, he placed the condom on his cock. He pushed Jenny May back onto the bed and then mounted her, throwing her legs over his shoulders with no difficulty. He expected some resistance when he entered her, but she was extremely wet, and he slipped in with ease. A loud moan came from the girl, though Scar couldn't tell if its nature was one of pain or pleasure.
Whatever the sound was, it did not deter him from the course. He pumped away at the girl, and whether she enjoyed it or not was of no concern to him. After a few minutes, he grew tired of the position. Scar flipped her over and took her from behind. Her ass was scrawny, and grabbing it gave him no satisfaction. An animalistic growl came from his throat while he relentlessly thrusted into her. The girl's moans became wails. If she was hurting, he didn't care, but he knew that she was enjoying the hell out of it.
After minutes of effort, he finally closed in on the climax. However, instead of continuing until he came, he pulled out and positioned Jenny May to where she was facing him. Ripping off the condom, he stroked and stroked until a surge of joyfulness hit its peak. He ejaculated onto the girl's lower face and neck, much to her horrified surprise. Each burst of cum caused him to groan sensually, as the girl sat petrified, her eyes wide and scared.
Taking deep and hoarse breaths, a cocky smile appeared on Scar's face. “Now that...that was worth the $40 you owe me.”
The girl didn't move a muscle. Her mouth remained sealed tighter than a safe, as semen started to accumulate on her lips.
Now that her usefulness had been fulfilled, Scar pointed to the door. “Take that shit meth with you and get the fuck out of here.”
Jenny May grabbed her clothes quickly and raced out of the bedroom. He followed her into the living room and watched the girl wipe her face and neck with the inside of her sweatshirt. Her face, now clean of fluid, looked morose, like her favorite dog died. Quickly putting the dirty top and shorts on, she grabbed the bag of meth and ran out the front door, forgetting her flip-flops in the process. Still naked, Scar picked up his empty glass from the coffee table and carried it with him to the kitchen, where he poured himself a fresh shot of vodka. Immediately shooting it back, a satisfied smile grew on his face.
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“You fuckin' did what!?” exclaimed a man clad in tattoos, wearing a white V-neck and blue jeans.
Scar took a drink of his longneck beer. “You heard me.”
“On her face? Just outta nowhere? Holy shit, man.”
“The girl shouldn't have came over like that.”
The tattooed man had a querying look on his face. “Wasn’t my cousin Wayne supposed to be out there on duty tonight?”
“Believe so.”
“Man, sorry. I'll talk to my boy. Dumb motherfucker should've been doing his job.”
Taking a seat on the edge of the pool table, Scar shook his head. “Don't apologize, Nicky. It ain't your fault.”
Nicky fiercely chalked his cue stick. “I feel like it is, man. That dumbass is someone I thought could do a good job. Seriously, I'm gonna have to whoop that worthless piece of shit's ass. Kid can't do a damn thing right.”
“I don't think an ass beating is going to help Wayne by itself.”
“Then what do you got planned, boss?”
“That old Camaro of his...”
Knocking in the 6-ball in the corner pocket, Nicky's eyes zoomed in on his next target. “What about it?”
“Smash it up. Make him watch.”
“Damn, man,” grimaced Nicky, while scratching the back of his shaved head. “That car is everything to him. Shit, I don't think I could even do that to such a nice car.”
“It's just a material possession, my friend.”
“But ain't these material possessions what we strive for? I mean, it's all about the big ass trucks, big ass houses, fancy fuckin' pools...shit like that, right?”
Scar nodded, finishing his beer in one strong gulp. “That's the irony of it all, brother. It is all about the money and what that money can buy. But those things also tend to lead to our downfall. What we so badly need is also what makes us weak. True power is rising above material shit.”
Nicky playfully pointed his pool cue at Scar while taking a drink of his beer. “I gotta ask. Is that why you don't ride in style?”
“You talkin' about why I don't have a nice truck?”
“I ain't saying your truck isn't nice. It's clean, good engine, love that dark blue color and all that. But the model's...what? A 2007? That's seven years old, man. And it ain't just that. You could afford a two-story house easily, with a state of the art security system, so you wouldn't have people like my dipshit cousin guarding you. Why don't you get nicer things?”
Pausing for a moment to watch Nicky nail his next shot, Scar thought about it for a second, though he wasn't sure why he wasted his time to ponder such a subject. He had known the answer when it came to him nine years ago.
“Because...it's not all about me.”
“Man, I don’t know if I can stand toe to toe with you when you get all philosophical and shit, but you talk about power and being on top a lot, but then you make it seem like you don’t really want it.”
“Being on top is a means to a fuckin’ end. As I said, it ain’t all about me.”
Nicky’s thick eyebrows lowered, then promptly raised. He finally and silently understood.
Lee's Bar was as shabby as it sounded, but it had been Scar's main dive since he was able to legally drink. Although, no one told him that he couldn't drink even when he was underage. Located to the west of Mineola, it was one of the closest bars for those who lived in the dry county of Van Zandt. The locale only sold longnecks and cans of cheap American draft beer, and there wasn't much selection in that department. The only liquor available was Jim Beam, though it was plentiful. It was a low-class establishment, and it was filled by men and women who enjoyed that sort of environment. It was a dimly-lit bar with a few neon beer signs lit to fit the mood. Two pool tables with flickering light fixtures hanging above them had their own section away from seating. An old jukebox filled with mostly outlaw country and a few random pop songs from the 80's sat in a corner. Currently, it was playing some Merle Haggard. The restrooms had piss stains all over the floor. They were probably cleaned once a week and the smell was evidence of that.
Despite its lack of flair and choice in beverages, the bar felt like a home base for Scar. Many nights had been spent playing pool and drinking beers with his buddies until closing time. Nicky Suarez was a regular as well, and his best friend. Nicky moved to Adrienne in the third grade, and before he had even sat in his desk, a random redneck boy called him a “wetback piece of trash.” Nicky quickly ran to the name-caller and wailed away at his face, blackening his eye and bloodying his nose. He spent the rest of that day in detention, which is where he met Scar.
Nicky was a tall and strong man, but not quite at the level of Scar. He was sturdy, smart, intuitive, and ruthless, but what Scar liked about him most was his loyalty. Nicky was like a brother to him, spending their teenage years as such, and he couldn't have asked for a better right-hand man at his side. He trusted him more than any single member of his family, and he did have quite the large family.
Scar was the middle child of five siblings. The oldest brother, Roy, had been missing for fifteen years. Everyone assumed he was dead, but only Scar held a semblance of hope that he still walked this earth. Roy taught him a great deal as he grew up, so he had no intention of giving up on his elder brother. There was one man who probably knew of his fate, but the thought of that man's face made him angry. The second child was Mary, who was a year and a half older than him, but had already spent most of her adult life behind bars. She became hooked on meth as a teenager, never once attempting to kick the habit. Alas, court orders demanded such action. While she has
somewhat quelled her addiction to meth, pain killers were her new vice. Shannon was the fourth child. She was noticeably smarter than every member of her family, and decided to attend college at the University of New Mexico, receiving a full ride to attend the school. But in reality, she wanted to get as far away from her troublesome family as possible. Even now, there was no contact from her. Despite his sibling no longer wanting to associate with her family, Scar was proud that she was probably successful.
The youngest of the litter was Clint, who was proving to be the craziest of the siblings. Scar loved his baby brother, but there were times when even he had problems with Clint. While the kid had his issues with drugs and alcohol, Scar didn't deem that his main problem. His main issue with Clint was his unpredictability. He once threw a pound of salable high quality meth into a creek just because the man who manufactured it had sex with his oldest sister back in high school.
A lot of his crazy had to do with his size. While the majority of Grayson men were tall and brawny, Clint was short and scrawny. That caused him to lash out easily, especially if his stature was slighted. Scar believed Clint had been in more fights in a week than most people do in their entire lives. Another thing that sometimes gave him restless nights were the rumors that Clint beat his fiancé. Scar trusted his brother, and believed the rumors to be lies and fabrications. But if there ever was a day when he witnessed those rumors come true...well, that was a thought that he quickly erased from his mind.
But it returned as quickly as it vanished. He didn’t have a problem with Clint's fiancé, Ali. Scar actually liked her. She had a good sense of humor and could drink like the rest of the boys. But the real reason he wanted to climb the ladder of the Roaring 20’s was for their son, Austin. He was the first Tomkins-Grayson cross, and he would carry the Grayson name into the future. Before his disappearance, Roy had two girls with a stripper out of Tyler. She didn’t stay around long after Roy never came home. While he loved his family, Scar sometimes had to remind himself that he had two nieces out there somewhere. He had no children himself, so the only one he could groom to be the next outstanding Grayson was the young Austin.
Comin' Home to You Page 6
