BJ had a wicked smile on his face. “I’ll call that shit.”
Ali had a confused look. “I don’t get it. Are you winning three beers from BJ?”
“Hell no. If I win, BJ has to chug three beers.”
“And if he can’t chug them?”
BJ answered for himself. “Of course I can chug all them beers. But if I can’t do it, all the boys here get to kick me right in the balls.”
Ali closed her eyes in disbelief. “Well, that sounds like a fun game.”
Bird Dog slapped the table. His chin fat jiggled. “It gets us fucked up! That’s why we like it!”
“Bitch, don’t be slappin’ my fuckin’ table again.” Clint glared at Bird Dog with demonic eyes.
With a grin that showcased his lack of dental hygiene, Bird Dog raised his palm openly to where Clint could see it, then slapped the table again.
Clint’s mouth smirked. “Ah, hell nah!” Getting up from the table, Clint rushed to Bird Dog and went for his chest. Bird Dog swatted the first attempt away, but the second wave landed on its target. Smirking even greater, Clint pinched as hard as he could with Bird Dog’s nipples locked in tightly. The fat man yelped in pain, while the other two men laughed. BJ’s laughter was so raucous that he wiped a tear from his eye.
After the crew calmed down, Clint directed everyone to turn their focus back on the game. Flipping over his cards and slamming them on the table, he believed he had the winning hand by the look on his mug. “Boom, motherfucker! Jack high straight!”
BJ calmly turned his cards over before getting wild himself. “Well I got a flush! Read it and weep!”
Cracking open the three beers on the table, Clint didn’t seem upset. “I guess I better get to drinkin’ then.”
The men around the table chanted and cheered on Clint to chug. Ali quietly watched on as her fiancé did his part, chugging three beers as if they were nothing. Once the last can escaped his lips, he let out a massive belch that gave rise to adulation from his peers. He took a bow, then slammed one of the cans down like he was spiking a football. “That’s how you drink some fuckin’ beers!”
“Fuck yeah!” cheered Bird Dog, feeling motivated to finish the beer he had been nursing.
After grabbing another beer out of the refrigerator a couple of steps away, something popped into Clint’s head. “Hey y’all, did I tell you about the fight I got in a couple weeks back?”
“You said something about it, but you didn’t really go into any details,” answered BJ.
“Well, I was in Tyler a couple weeks back. Scar wanted me to go take care of a thing or two in the city, so I did.”
Lies, thought Ali. Scar doesn’t trust him to take care of any business in Tyler. He don’t trust him to do anything. He’s probably fucking someone else…again.
“So I find a bar and I am there with one of the Shreveport boys. This place looks like a biker bar, right? And I get in there and I’m already the biggest badass there. I take a few fuckin’ shots of whiskey, drink some beer, you know how it is. Next thing I know, I can tell this bald dude at the bar has been looking at me like he wants to fuck me or some gay ass shit. I ask him what the fuck his problem is. He gets up and bows up to me, and says something like how you don’t disrespect a Marine or something.”
Bird Dog smiled and slapped the table. “Ah man, he shouldn’t have said that shit.”
“Damn right. I told him that you don’t disrespect me, faggot. He takes a swing at me, and I’m ready for it. I dodge it and at the same time pick up an empty longneck from the bar. Man, I smashed that shit over his bald head. He started bleeding and fell to the ground and shit, and then I stomp a mud hole in his ass. A couple of his gay friends got in the way and pleaded me to stop. As they are dragging him away, I tell him this. I tell him…thank you for your service…faggot!”
The three men at the table started laughing hysterically. “You whooped his ass and called him a faggot?” asked BJ.
“Fuck yeah, I did. Bitch shouldn’t have stepped up to me. I don’t give a shit if you’re in the Army or a preacher or a fuckin’ UFC fighter. You step up to Clint Grayson, you gonna’ get your ass beat.”
Without a word, Ali went back to the living room and took a seat on a recliner, easily tired of Clint’s prideful boasting. She had considered going into the bedroom to be alone, but she didn’t want to cause a scene. Her fiancé wouldn’t like it if she did. While the initial rush of her puff of the meth was starting to wind down, she strangely didn’t feel like smoking any more. Jolie and Tasha were still talking like schoolgirls. For some reason, it just sounded annoying. In fact, everything was annoying. This was supposed to be an entertaining night. But here she was, irritated by every damn thing in this house and not even wanting to smoke any more. It made her wonder if the meth she smoked wasn’t very potent, or if her mindset was overpowering the high. She took another shot of whiskey, hoping that would be the kick start for her to get back into a fun mindset.
Hearing the faint sounds of two vibrations, Tasha grabbed her phone from her bedazzled purse. Her eyes grew a little disturbed when she looked at her texts. “Jenny May texted me. She said that her and Scar hooked up. What the fuck does that mean?”
“Maybe she meant hooked her up,” Jolie answered.
“Scar wouldn’t fuck another girl, would he? Not Jenny May, right?” desperately asked Tasha.
Ali could tell the question was geared toward her. “You really don’t know him. Of course he would.”
Tasha bit her lip in angst. “I’m gonna kill that little skank faced bitch!”
“Don’t blame her. Blame Scar.”
Tasha stood up, looking down at Ali. “You think he’d seriously fuck Jenny May over me? Look at me! I’m hot shit! Why the fuck would he do this?”
“Shouldn’t have told her where he lived.”
“Fuck you, Ali.”
Everything inside Ali told her to get up and slap the shit out of Tasha. How she deemed this girl a friend was now beyond her. She was barely tolerable. While Ali enjoyed having company when doing drugs or drinking, a quiet atmosphere was becoming desired. Not knowing what exactly to say and not wanting to start any shit, Ali decided to just shake her head and turn her attention to the television, which was doing nothing but displaying the musical artist and the song title on the screen.
“Hey hey hey,” yelled Clint, hearing what was going on from the kitchen. “What the fuck’s going on in there?”
“Your brother fucked my friend! Well, used to be friend!” Tasha shrieked.
BJ looked perplexed. “Who? Jenny May?”
“Yep. Stupid little cunt.”
Bird Dog was slightly saddened. “Damn.”
Clint smirked heavily on one side of his face. “Oh shit, that was your little crush, wasn’t she?”
“Not a crush. I just wanted a piece of that little ass.”
BJ jokingly consoled his friend, patting him on the back. “Hey man, ain’t nothing wrong with seconds.”
“Man, my brother probably ruined that shit. I bet she’ll be walking around all bow legged for days. I tell you what, Bird Dog. Stick a little piece of crystal in your pee hole, and I guaran-damn-tee you that Jenny May will be suckin’ on that thing in no time.”
Bird Dog laughed loudly, slapping the table again for good measure.
“Yeah, can y’all stop talking about Scar and that backstabbing bitch?” Tasha demanded.
Clint motioned with his hands for her to relax. “Hey, I know a way for you to forget about all that shit. Let’s get in the truck and hit the backroads.”
Jolie shot up from the couch, eager to do something else. “Sounds good to me!”
Tasha glared at Ali before following Jolie to the kitchen.
With the two girls in the kitchen, now talking to the other guys, Clint approached his betrothed. “You ain’t be acting like yourself. The meth bad or something?”
“I don’t know.”
“You either know or you don’t.”
/> “I’m just not in the mood, Clint.”
“Not in the fuckin’ mood?” Clint replied, trying to keep his voice down. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
“I don’t fucking know, alright?”
“Whatever. I ain’t gonna wait up for you to get in the mood. Have fun by yourself, bitch.”
Ali waved sarcastically. “Alright, y’all have fun.”
Shrugging his shoulders and giving an uncaring smirk, Clint joined his friends. If they were alone, he likely would have grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and been rougher, possibly even laying a hand on her. But he’d rather go out and drunk and high with his friends than spend another moment dealing with his glum fiancé. Ali was fine with that. The quicker everyone left, the better.
Turning around to at least say bye to Jolie, she noticed Tasha flirting with Clint, who had a case of beer in his arms. Tasha made sure she looked at Ali before they all went out the door, hooping and hollering and ready for a drunken trip down dirt roads.
All that remained was Ali, red dirt music, whiskey and more meth if she so wanted it. She sighed out loud. Somehow, she had pissed Tasha off. All she did was answer questions truthfully and speak her honest opinions about Scar. Now, Tasha had every intention of fucking Clint. Maybe she was getting back at Scar as well, or so she thought. Clint wasn’t going to say no either. He didn’t have a drop of loyalty in his body. Ali had been cheated on multiple times by him. She also did it once to get back at him, but all that got her was an ass beating. No matter how many times he was unfaithful, she was saddened, yet always came back to him. This time, however, she just didn’t care.
Being alone was all she wanted right now. Normally, she would be happy as a clam to drive down the dirt roads, drinking beers and throwing them out the window and breathing in the humid night air. Maybe she would still go outside and look up at the stars tonight, but it would be in seclusion. Squinting her eyes and scratching at her eyebrow, her father once again bullied his way into her brain. It’s his damn fault I am acting so fucking weird! She had lost complete control over her thoughts. All that was playing in her head were today’s events with Owen, when he called her an addict and stated how Austin was growing up knowing this fact. Her father had found a way to continuously irritate her, even though he wasn’t even around.
Fuck that asshole. Stupid fucking…urgh! Even her own thoughts were rattled. She grabbed her trusty shot glass, but instead of filling it, she threw it across the room. It made a loud thud and left a little dent in the side of the drywall. She was disappointed to not hear it break, but the glass was too sturdy. Now all she could think about was her son. Maybe there was a reason why he wanted to go to his grandpa’s house all of the time. She was beginning to feel inadequate as a mother, so much so that she was feeling anxious. Her chest started pounding and she started biting the inside of her cheek. Austin hadn’t wanted to do anything with her. It was always ‘grandpa this and grandpa that.’ What’s so fucking good about him? He’s a terrible parent. He ruined my life with all his stupid whores that came through our house. Fuck him. Why does Austin like him and not me?
Ali tried to quit thinking about her father, because if she continued, it only led down one road. But it was too late. That road had found its destination. Visions of the past conquered her. Anxiety and painful memories made tears well in her eyes. She could no longer tell if she was just really delirious in her buzz or her memories had become extremely vivid, because she was now on her knees as a young girl, looking at a sight that haunts her to this day.
“Mommy…”
Chapter 4
“Cirrhosis of the liver!? What the fuck is that, Owen?”
“God damn, brother. Can you say it any louder? I don’t think the people on the other side of the field heard you,” replied a distraught Owen.
“Sorry. So what is it, exactly?”
“Basically, my liver is so scarred up that it can't function properly.”
“What does it do? Sorry, it’s been a while since high school biology. I know it like breaks down alcohol.”
“That, and a hell of a lot more.”
“Alright, so what options you got?”
“I either quit drinking and change my lifestyle, or get a whole new liver put up in me.”
Owen's brother cackled and rubbed his shaved head. “I'd bet anything, hell, I’d bet the dick right off my balls that you picked the second option.”
Taking a drink of a bottled beer, Owen nodded in response. “Hit it right on the head, brother. But there's a waiting list for it and it could take a long damn time before my name even comes up.”
“How long? A few weeks?”
“Months…years. I may not be alive when my turn comes.”
Ben, physically fit and wearing a plaid shirt with khaki shorts, took a drink himself. “So, cirrhosis is fatal?”
“More or less.”
“Then why the fuck are you even drinking then?”
“I probably shouldn't be. But I don't know...it's hard to watch a baseball game without a cold beer.”
“Lame excuse, bro.”
“That it may be. But, if I can put things on a weird positive note, I have a feeling that things are going to be alright. I actually have an appointment with a surgeon in Dallas tomorrow. I gave 'em a call on Saturday and they actually had people in the office to answer. It was their secretary, behind on work, or so she said. Sounded cute. Said that she had a cancellation recently and could fit me right in.”
“How about that...” Ben muttered. A look of disappointment crept on his face as he watched Owen take another drink, almost uncaring of his predicament.
“Hey look, Austin’s leading off,” said a focused and cheerful Owen. He was glad that the moment arose, for he hated this brutal feeling of guilt. He could feel the glaring energy of his brother’s judgement upon him.
It was a warm Monday evening. Loud chirping sounds of crickets were overpowered by the cheers of fans and parents as they watched the children play the great sport of baseball. The field was placed fairly close to a railroad, and trains would occasionally drown out all sounds whenever it thundered down the tracks. It was the same field that Owen played on as a boy. Back then, there was a chain link fence for boundaries and holes in the outfield that were never properly filled. Now, there was a state of the art sprinkler system installed within the field to keep the grass green and a metal wall that had many advertisements from local businesses drilled into the outfield wall for all eyes to see. It was Austin's first game of the year, and one could feel the enthusiasm from the kids as they took the field. Austin’s game was the last one of the night, as kids who just played the previous game sat with their parents and friends, snacking on refreshments in the stands. While the sun still hovered in the western sky, the lights above the field were already on, ready to illuminate the diamond once the sun finally set. The two brothers leaned against a chain link fence just outside the ballpark, so that they could somewhat legally consume their beverages, as the park forbid the consumption of alcohol on the premises. Even if they did drink in the park however, it was doubtful anyone would say anything, especially to the chief of the Adrienne Police Department.
Ben was 33 years of age and five years younger than Owen. While he made about the same grades as his brother, he wasn't quite the athletic baseball star that Owen was. Ben found his calling playing football instead, but only had a mediocre high school career on the gridiron. After graduating and not desiring to attend college, he decided to enlist in the Army. Finally feeling like he belonged somewhere, Ben quickly climbed through the ranks and by the time the fateful day of 9/11 rolled around, he was a first lieutenant. Right after the terrorist attack, he was deployed to Afghanistan to fight the good fight. He spent the next few years overseas in combat, somehow making it out of the desert with just a few scratches and only a smudge of mental trauma that he kept well hidden beneath his tough facade.
After returning to American soil, Ben did his best, slipp
ing into an odd job or two, but just felt like he couldn’t find a normal place within society. He missed those feelings of structure and rigidity. Most of all, he missed having a gun on him at all times. There were nights in his safe apartment in Allen that he couldn’t sleep unless his fingertips were touching his cold handgun. Hoping to find that same comfy feeling he had in the military, he promptly decided to enroll with the Tyler Police Department, knowing that it was about as close to the Army as he could get without actually being in it. A couple weeks into his police classes at the local junior college, he and his friends would hit up a sports bar, where he fell in love with the local bartender named Taylor. The skin tight black tank top she wore drove him over the edge every time he saw her. Fate was present, as she was just as in to him as he was into her. The couple moved fast, marrying and having their first boy, Adam, when Ben was 26. The couple would follow Adam up with a baby girl named Rainey two years later.
Just like in the Army, he was progressing through the police department ranks quickly. He made lieutenant at age 30. Yearning for his hometown roots and seeing the opportunity for a small increase in salary, he took the opening as Chief of the Adrienne Police Department at 32 years of age. While he was back closer to his brother and friends, he quickly realized how undesirable his position was. The area had been stricken with increasing violence and drug trafficking, forcing most of the public in the area to greatly desire change and stability. But Ben took it on as a challenge that must be accepted, just like the Tomkins creed demanded.
Owen was quite cognizant that compared to his younger brother, he was a huge failure in life. The extent of his honest work was only as a mechanic, and while he was fairly decent at his craft, he still heavily lacked in comparison to Ben's bravado and salary. There were past instances where he even had to ask his younger brother for money to make payments on the property tax and miscellaneous bills. He considered his need to borrow funds on a few occasions some of his lowest points on God's green earth. Owen hated going to his brother's house for cookouts, as his dwelling was a large 3-2 house with a spacious fenced-in yard and an in ground pool that was eight feet deep with a diving board. Owen's house was a manufactured home out in the woods, where he would awake almost every single day to see woodland critters shitting in his backyard. In a way, he enjoyed living way out in the woods. His driveway was off the county road, but it had a good winding half mile distance away from it. He knew he normally wouldn’t be bothered by most folk. Though, he could take being bothered if it was a scantily clad woman looking to fuck until the morning sunrise. Knowing his current situation, however, the only way he could do that was by hiring an escort to act that way, which wouldn’t be out of his bounds. But he wished he didn’t have to live like that. It just displeased him more knowing he was inferior to his brother. He knew it, his brother knew it, and the entire town public knew it.
Comin' Home to You Page 8
