Austin wasn’t the only Grayson in existence. He also had numerous cousins that helped him in his line of work, but while he looked out for them, he never thought of them as real family. Yet, every member of the Grayson family, including some older than him, looked up to Scar as the patriarch of the clan. While being one of the highest ranking members of the Roaring 20's, he was also the most proven of the Graysons. It was a family that valued strength and no one was going to step up to challenge his claim. There was no question that he was the strongest.
For a while, Scar was surprised that Austin had been the only offspring from the young couple, since Clint bragged about how much he fucked her. But upon visiting their house a couple years back, he found enough Plan B to last an entire lifetime in a closet. It was for the best. Those two weren't the greatest parental figures. Sometimes he wished he could take on the role of legal guardian of the boy, but even Scar understood that it would be a foolish action, especially with his line of work. He didn't want Austin to follow in his footsteps. He would prefer his nephew lead an honest life and hopefully destroy the drug addicted dealer stigma the Graysons had stomached for the past couple of decades. So far, Austin was on the straight path. But it wasn’t thanks to him. It infuriated him, but Owen had done a bang up job raising the boy so far. Yet, the thought of that man made his eyebrows furrow and dark thoughts take residence in his mind.
While Nicky prepared to strike the cue ball for his next shot, Scar noticed the entrance door open. Even in such a relaxing atmosphere, he always kept his guard up, keeping track of everyone who came in and out of the bar. It was just how he was. He was not paranoid by any means, just careful. Being careful has kept him alive so far.
Entering Lee's at the midnight hour was the town's resident party animal, Bubba. He had a bartending job at a bar and grill called Louie's during the day, but at night, he was well-known as the man that was up for anything. He'd take any drug, have sex with any girl, and perform any ridiculous action for the hell of it. He was a man who enjoyed the attention. On his best days, Scar deemed him as tolerable, but most of the time, he was a pain in the ass. Clint and his crew tolerated him a lot better than he did, as he hung out with them more often. Bubba made things worse by regularly believing he was a member of the Roaring 20's. The most he had ever done was travel with a distant cousin of Scar's to oversee a very small exchange. Since then, he considered himself a strong asset of the outfit and assumed he was good friends with Scar.
After grabbing two longnecks at the bar, Bubba approached the two men gleefully. “What the fuck is up!? Man, fuck. Louie's was busy tonight. What are you boys up to?”
Nicky held the same feelings that Scar harbored for Bubba. He only looked up at him for a moment before sinking another shot. “Fuckin' playing pool. What's it look like?”
Bubba guffawed, oblivious to the two men's disdain for him. “Man, you guys crack me the fuck up. What the fuck are we doing tonight?”
Scar sighed. He desired to smash his empty beer bottle that remained in his hand over Bubba's nose. Such thoughts gave him a moment of bliss. While Bubba equaled him in size, he knew he would absolutely destroy him. Yet, it wasn't worth the effort. Scar wasn't like his younger brother, who would start a fight for something he perceived as an insult. He had no intention of wasting energy and effort in meaningless combat. So, sighing and imagining himself beating the shit out of Bubba was the appropriate answer.
It was a relief when Nicky answered for them. “What are we doing? This, I guess. Why ain’t you with Clint?”
“You know Shawna Box?”
Nicky strategized his next move, but the 8 ball was partially blocked off. He weaved his head back and forth, looking at every possible angle before replying. “The black girl?”
“Yeah, man. Heard some shit that she was comin’ out here tonight. I had to come see. Man, I always wanted a piece of that black ass. I’m gonna get in that box if I see her, you know what I am saying?”
Nicky replied with a stoic nod. Scar’s fantasies with Bubba now involved a chainsaw.
Bubba took a drink of his brew. “I’m off tomorrow night. We got any gangsta shit going down tomorrow? I’m down, you boys know I am.”
“Mind your own business, Bubba,” replied Scar, unable to take another word.
Bubba's face clenched up, but quickly relaxed. Even he knew going up against Scar was a death sentence. “Man, just seeing what was going on. Damn.”
Nicky cheered loudly as he miraculously knocked in the 8-ball to mitigate the awkward silence. Scar didn't even get a chance to play. When it came to pool, Nicky was the best around. Feeling generous, Nicky waved his empty beer bottle to Scar, notifying him if he wanted to go another round. Scar nodded, eager and thankful for another beer.
As Nicky walked to the bar, Bubba slowly approached Scar. “Say man, I saw your brother-in-law at work last night.”
Scar's face wrinkled in scorn. “He's not my fucking brother-in-law.”
“Whatever. Anyway, man, that dude was acting weird as shit. He fucking walked out on his tab, and Grace dumped his ass. It was something else. Grace said he threw up and may have been crying and shit. Not sure what the fuck is wrong with him.”
Scar remembered Grace. He had her a year before Owen got to her. Her body was quite pleasing. Curves in all the right places, big breasts, and a friendly smile. Sexually, however, she was disappointing. Other people he knew thought she was amazing in bed, but she wasn't to his liking. Having a degree of control is a requirement sexually for him. Grace was a little too talkative and liked to change positions without asking him first.
Yet, he enjoyed hearing tales of Owen's failures in life. This also gave him a chance to pick up some more intel on the man. “What do you mean weird? He didn't pay his tab? Could he not afford it?”
“Yeah, he paid it. But what was weird as fuck was that he didn't even drink all that much. But he was drunk as fuck, man. And shit, man, the guy looks like a fuckin' walkin' skeleton. He was asking me weird fuckin' questions too. Like, hell, he was asking me what I would do if I knew I was gonna die or some shit. That guy's lost his fuckin' mind, if you ask me.”
Owen Tomkins had always been a symbol of enmity for Scar. But, it was how it was. The Tomkins and Graysons had feuded for generations. His father and Owen's father had initially resisted that fate, breaking a long tradition of hatred and becoming friends at an early age. Most members of the two sides were hesitant about the new friendship, but being in a feud was a long and tiring process, and they were looking for some sort of reprieve. There was a lot of hope that the two boys would be the pioneers to finally put this squabble to rest.
However, hostilities remained, even in times of peace. Right after the two boys turned 18, they created a plan to rob a small convenience store outside of Athens during the night. They didn't have any real reason to rob the store besides a pocketful of cash, nor did they have any motive to hold a poor late night employee up at gunpoint to take the cash from the register. They were just delinquent boys being delinquent boys. As the elder Grayson entered the closed store in the dark of night, Andy Tomkins showed his true colors by tipping off the police and fleeing the scene. Buddy Grayson, the man holding a gun, was arrested. Since Graysons were known for their criminal history, he was given a year in jail on his first felony. A cousin of Scar's father, looking to prove himself to the family, stalked Owen's uncle, who was 16 at the time. The cousin used the pretense of the arrest as an excuse to exact revenge. When the young teenager went walking in the woods, the Grayson cousin had his opportunity. From fifty yards away, he shot the young Tomkins boy in the back with a .30-06 rifle. The bullet went straight through his heart, killing him almost instantly. The cousin didn't resist when the police came for him. He proudly exclaimed that there would be more dead Tomkins in the future. If his plan was to scare the rest of the grieving family, it worked. Every single member of the Tomkins clan, except Owen's father, packed up and left town. Scar remembered Owen's dad as a defia
nt and stubborn man. His oldest son was the same way, though he admired the father more than the son.
Scar wasn't quite sure what it was about Owen that he hated so much. He hated any member of the Tomkins, but he immensely abhorred Owen. He just seemed so fake. His attitude was quietly overwhelming and annoying, and Scar hated how Owen considered himself to be the ultimate paramour. Sure, he had bagged his fair share of women, but Owen made it seem like a huge deal. If he had any friends, he’d probably brag about each and every conquest. Sadly for Scar, even that wasn't the main reason he despised him. From all the information he had gathered from his friends within the business, Owen was the last man his older brother Roy visited before he went missing. He imagined his older brother tried to extort some money out of Owen or use him to his advantage, something he was prone to do. His brother was never seen again after the meeting. Scar was sure there was foul play. Hell, he would bet every dollar he owned that Owen killed his older brother. He could never prove it, however. Roy had enough enemies as it was, and Scar was not about to torture and kill a man simply based on rumors. He preferred to hint such accusations to Owen, just to see his reaction. For over 10 years, he maintained a straight and innocent facade when playfully interrogated. Yet, Scar felt like the time for his enemy to crack was coming. The weight of all that guilt must have been crushing him these past 15 years. When that day comes that Owen breaks under the pressure, Scar would be there, with all of his torture tools ready for use.
It was fortunate that Nicky had returned with a fresh beer. Thinking of Owen made his blood boil. He wasn't the type to want to hurt something just for the hell of it. But whenever a Tomkins came to mind, especially Owen, his hatred turned into a vicious malice. Bubba's face looked especially beatable in that instance. Instead, he turned his attention to the beer, chugging it down in mere seconds.
“Damn, boy!” said a weirdly excited Bubba. “Motherfucker can drink!”
Nicky smirked. “I would have brought two if I knew you were going to smash that down.”
Scar belched, then wiped his lips off with the back of his hand. His eyes stayed lowered to the ground. Once again, an odd memory emerged, a memory where he recalled Owen chugging down a beer at Louie’s to impress a waitress. He couldn’t even drink a beer without somehow thinking of that Tomkins dick. Just one mention about him from Bubba and his whole night was ruined. Something had to be done.
“My nephew has a baseball game Monday. We’re going.”
Nicky unsurely agreed, though a bit jumbled. “Alright, man. It’s not like we missed one yet.”
“I know. But we are definitely going.”
“Man, I gotta work Monday, or else I'd go see that shit,” said Bubba, unaware that no one was listening to him.
“Is it a special occasion or something? Is Austin pitching? Is that it?” Nicky put a longneck to his lips, then put it back down after realizing he picked up an empty one.
Scar had a sly smile on his face. “We’re gonna give our good pal Owen a visit.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ali leaned back against the suede couch after taking a strong hit of the noxious crystal methamphetamine. She placed her ebony colored pipe onto the table, then quickly took a shot of Jim Beam. She felt her throat and lungs burn, but that just meant it was all working.
“Girl, you are a fuckin’ trooper!” drunkenly giggled Ali’s friend Jolie, who was sitting next to her.
“Ain’t no big deal.”
On the other side of the couch, Tasha followed Ali’s actions, inhaling some smoke from her pipe and taking a shot, but of a Bacardi rum. “Whoooo! Damn!”
“Girl, you’re taking too many shots,” Ali noticed. “Crystal and booze don’t mix that well if you overdo it.”
Jolie and Tasha laughed in their intoxicated states, while Ali gave a polite chuckle. This was almost an every night thing at her house. Sometimes it would be just her and Clint passing the pipe back and forth, but the entire gang was present tonight. They were feeling the initial rushes from their hits of the drug and were feeling giddy. While Ali usually enjoyed the company of her friends, she was feeling nonchalant today. Her father had gotten on her nerves, yet again. She couldn’t believe he would try to make her feel guilty for what she did. As an adult, she could do whatever she wanted. If she wanted to stay up days on a meth binge, she could. She was a free woman and was entitled to act as so. Her father had no place to be so nosey and assertive. She was even doing Austin a favor by having him stay with his grandfather. He didn’t need to see this behavior. This was her life, and she wouldn’t let Owen screw it up with his attempts at giving her his fatherly opinions.
“Hey Tasha,” asked Jolie, moving her hand through her long dyed red hair to rub at her scalp. “Where’s Jenny May at tonight?”
“I told her about the good shit Scar has at his place. That stuff he has, it keeps me going for days. She got all curious, so she probably went over there to score a tiny bit.”
Ali grabbed Tasha’s shoulder in her astonishment, but not in an overly threatening way. “Are you fucking serious, Tasha? You told Jenny May where Scar lived? Are you serious?”
“Girl, Jenny May is always looking for a high. She kept hounding me until I told her where he lived. I mean, I figure he’ll be cool. I have been fucking him lately, after all.”
Jolie frankly smiled, but her eyes had a hint of jealousy. “You’ve been doing it with Scar?”
“Girl, he’s had me every which way. I get a little freakier, the hook up gets a little sweeter. And girl, he’s as big as you could imagine. Holy shit, he’s packing!”
Ali tried not to imagine what he had going on down there. Something about Scar rubbed her the wrong way. She never could put her finger on it, but there was something she just couldn’t figure out about him. Despite being on a muddled meth high a lot of the time, she was constantly trying to ascertain Scar’s intentions. He adored Austin, but the way he was around her was just odd. He’d laugh at her attempts at humor. He’d hold open the door for her, when Clint had no problems letting it shut in her face. The man was just different around her, and she never could figure out why. She decided not to dwell on it. Tonight was another night of living it up to the fullest.
To her left, Jolie was checking her Facebook on her phone. She was probably her closest friend, though Ali hardly ever hung out with her or anyone unless drugs were involved. Her hair was constantly dyed bright red and she had a lip ring. She had some thickness on her, but wasn’t fat by any means. Jolie was a year older than her and just like Ali, didn’t graduate high school, though Jolie at least made it to her junior year. On the other side was Tasha, who had jet black hair and a body that most men would die for. Currently, she was Scar’s new sexual interest. That’s all they were destined to be. She seemed fine with it, and had no problem flaunting and bragging about the man she was fucking. Scar was the hottest piece of man in this area to the women who drank, did drugs or just had a penchant for hanging around the wrong crowds.
Noticing her hand still remained on Tasha’s shoulder, Ali removed it to pour another shot and to take an opportunity to speak her mind. “Tasha. That was dumb…dumb, dumb, dumb, telling Jenny May where Scar lived.”
“How so?”
“Uh, because Scar doesn’t like people knowing where he lives. You know what he does for a living, right?”
“Of course. I ain’t no idiot. He’s like, a badass dealer.”
“Are you kidding? He’s over the dealers. He’s over the manufacturers. He’s over the distributors. He’s over everything around here. He’s the boss ‘round these parts.”
Tasha shrugged. “Same thing, right?”
Ali had an acerbic comment that dealt with her ignorance, but decided to table it. “Anyway, he’s careful. I only know because of the guy I’m with, and you only know because he’s fucking you, which I’m surprised he even took you back to his h
ouse.”
Tasha look annoyed. “So what the fuck are you getting at? That I shouldn’t have told Jenny May where he lived?”
“Fuck no! He ain’t gonna be expecting Jenny May to wander up to his door. I mean, shit, he has some of his dumbass cousins out there guarding his house. You ever notice those trailers? Scar’s careful.”
“So?”
Now it was Ali that was annoyed. “She might get fucking killed, Tasha.”
“I think I know him better than you, Ali. He wouldn’t do that.”
“You don’t know him better than me if you don’t know what he’s capable of.”
Jolie decided to speak her mind. A sly and shrewd grin grew from her large lips. “Oh, I bet he’s capable of a lot of things.”
Tasha laughed loudly, still chuckling when she replied. “Oh, he is. But you ain’t getting any of it.”
The two girls continued to laugh and make jokes while Ali stared glumly at the television. It was on a music channel, where it was currently playing some red dirt country music that was heavy on the fiddle. To her, it was just background noise. She wasn’t sure what was going on with her recently. She had been more standoffish and didn’t seem to be having as much fun as she normally did. Lifting herself up from the couch to try to shake her doldrums, Ali walked over to the kitchen, where her fiancé Clint and his friends BJ, Bird Dog and a Grayson cousin that she didn’t know the name of, nor cared to learn it, were playing Texas Hold ‘Em, betting beers for each hand. Needless to say, they were getting hammered. When it came to physical descriptions, BJ was the skinny one and Bird Dog was the fat one. BJ couldn’t grow facial hair and could pass for a high schooler. Bird Dog at least had a little facial hair to cover up his fat chin.
Clint saw Ali approaching, grabbing a hold of her ass when she was close enough. “Hey, check this shit out, babe. Alright, fuckers, I am betting three of these delicious Keystone Lights.”
Comin' Home to You Page 7
