by Glenn Rolfe
Chapter Two
Richie awoke to the mouth-watering aromas of bacon and coffee. He’d only had a few beers last night, but they weighed heavy on his foggy mind this morning as he sat up at the edge of his still made, but slightly ruffled bed, wearing the clothes he’d had on yesterday. He scraped a rough hand against his scruffy face before rising to his feet and heading to the mirror sitting atop his bureau.
Ugh.
He looked like he felt; bloodshot eyes stared back at him with disgust. The thought crossed his mind that he was a worthless piece of crap, but he wasn’t sure why. He tried on a smile, but it only revealed lines that hadn’t been there five years ago. His teeth were too yellow, and his cheeks too red from too much drinking. He took a deep breath and tried to remind himself that at this very moment, old, ugly or unworthy, he had a beautiful woman out in the kitchen preparing him a delicious breakfast. Still, the disheveled-looking fool in the mirror kicked him in his cerebral balls as he let out a sigh. He considered changing into clean clothes, but only made it as far as tossing his jeans in the hamper by the toilet.
He walked out toward the delicious smells in his t-shirt and boxers.
“I let you sleep. You looked like you could use it,” Alison said. “I’m a little surprised that you slept so late.”
He was confused. The clock on the microwave read 3:26.
“I think I slept too long,” was the most he could manage.
He poured a cup of hot coffee into his Brady mug and plopped down on one of the chairs at the kitchen table.
Alison brought him a plate with six strips of extra crispy bacon, a pile of steaming hash, and two eggs, which were sunny-side up. It looked wonderful, but he still said nothing. She was still in her short t-shirt and little blue sleep shorts that he loved so much because of the way they showed off her thighs. He wondered where she’d slept.
“I slept on the pullout this morning,” she answered, almost as if she had read his mind. “You were stretched out like a bear on top of the covers last night and looked pretty worn out, so I just let you be and slept out here.” She paused a moment before continuing. “And seeing’s how you aren’t exactly a well of conversation this morning, and you look like shit, I’m guessing you don’t feel so hot today.”
He finished chewing the scrumptious bacon he’d stuffed in his gullet, then answered, “I’ve got a headache, and I feel like my brain’s trying to motor through sand.”
“How much did you have to drink last night?”
“Not much. In fact, I only bought a six pack. I drank most of those before racing out to your rescue last night.”
She smiled at his bad attempt at humor. “You mean before you raced over and saw that Jason had that kid apprehended?”
He didn’t appreciate the correction or the smile that accompanied it. His temper flared. He focused on the hash, shoveling it into his mouth to refrain from saying something stupid over what was true. Jason Betts had been the real hero last night, and Richie was the fool who arrived too late. He swallowed his out-of-place anger and powered through the rest of the breakfast.
“You okay?
He registered the look of concern as it crossed her face.
“Is this about last night? I know you don’t like me working those shifts, but we decided we need the extra money right now.”
Another slap in the face. Inadvertent or not, she was really starting to piss him off.
He raised his coffee cup to his lips.
She must have seen the look of irritation cross his face.
“You know what I mean. This is the only option we have right now. I thought we talked about this last night?” She knew he’d been down lately about being stuck at McGee’s. They’d talked late into the night numerous times. The video rental store he’d managed, Last Box on the Left, the last of an already dead breed, finally gave in and closed three months ago. Netflix and Redbox had nailed the coffin shut years ago, but he’d tried like hell to hold on, losing money and a lot more in the process. He knew he should have called it at least two years earlier, but it was hard to let go of something that had been everything to him for so long. His father had helped him secure the loan to open the place back in the late nineties just before succumbing to a massive coronary. Richie knew it was stupid and sentimental, but he convinced himself that his store could buck the trend. He would one day pass the business on to James. The decision had ultimately been made for him. If he didn’t close the doors, he would be kissing his trailer goodbye. Lincoln McGee’s Roofing was his lifeline, like it or not, but with all his debts, he and Alison still had to readjust their monthly budget dramatically. His insecurities were at an all-time high and he knew she had been walking on eggshells around him lately.
She went over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, and then bent down and kissed him on the cheek. He loosened up at her tender touch.
“Thanks for the breakfast.” This time the smile that dressed his face came naturally, and for the first time since waking up, he felt good.
She let her lips hover over his neck. He felt her warm breath upon his skin.
“You’re,” she kissed the side of his neck. “very,” the side of his scruffy face, “welcome.”
Their lips met, then their tongues.
She grabbed the front of his shirt and guided him to his feet.
Kissing their way out of the room, past the TV, and toward the hallway, he traced the curves of her hips and cupped her ass in his hands. He lifted her and carried her to the sofa.
“Oh,” she purred in his ear, “you gonna take me on the couch?”
He responded by playfully nipping at her neck before setting her down. She let him remove her t-shirt and he tossed his, as well.
“What have you got there?” she said, licking her lips and staring at the hard-on sticking out the front of his boxers. She grabbed hold of him. “Is this for me?”
He pulled away from her, something he rarely did. With all the bullshit this year, he’d been having a difficult time staying hard, and any detour from contact could mean trouble. He pushed the thought from his mind and flipped her over. He bent forward and kissed the bottoms of her ass cheeks that peeked out from her shorts. She pressed against his kisses. He peeled her shorts down along with her panties and rubbed her warmth; feeling her wetness was intoxicating.
“Fuck me,” she said.
He dropped his boxers and took her by the hips and slipped into her.
“Mmmm yeah, yeah,” she moaned.
Before he had a chance to really get started, he felt his dick begin to quit.
No, no, no.
Damn it, not now.
He continued going through the motions even as he felt his manhood withering away.
“Are you okay?”
And there’s the sympathy voice.
Here he was, lucky enough to have someone who wanted to be with him, and as hot as she was, his goddamn dick seemed to be having as many problems in life as the loser attached to it.
He leaned over her and kissed her back, his limp dick slipping free from her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
She turned around.
“Come here,” she said, taking him in her arms. “It’s okay, really.”
No, it’s pretty fucking far from okay.
He kept his self-deprecating comments to himself and felt his mental presence slide away to the land of weak and useless. She said it was okay, but he saw the disappointment on her face. He felt like shit for her, too. She was hot, young, and an amazing person all-around. She deserved someone that could take care of her needs, someone better than him, but she put on a great face to protect his feelings.
Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, Richie ran a hand over his short, dark hair and snatched his keys from the counter. This morning’s issues lingered on his mind, but he’d decided to push past the impotence and focus on the positive. Alison, God bless her, was on one of her walks and wouldn’t be back for another forty minutes or so
. He told her he’d join her one of these days, but they both knew he never would. He’d told her about his plans to go get James, and she hugged him and told him she was proud of him. He felt a hundred times better. Almost ready to conquer the world. He needed to call Samantha and let her know he was coming for their son, but he needed a cold one first. A little liquid courage from the corner store should do the trick.
He tossed on his Chuck Taylor’s, grabbed his sunglasses, and headed out the door.
…..
Alison pushed herself. The walking wasn’t cutting it this morning. She needed to feel the burn. She felt horrible for Richie and his troubles, but she couldn’t deny the facts. It hurt like hell. The first few times, she’d been able to shrug it off. It happened to guys of all ages, but it had continued happening.
At first, she thought maybe she wasn’t sexy enough. Her tits were on the smaller side, but she was happy with them, and Richie had seemed fine with them too. Then she thought it was her hips. She’d always had wider hips than her friends, but Richie said he loved her hour-glass physique. It wasn’t until she mentioned it to her sister—God, she didn’t want to tell her, but she had to tell someone—that the idea maybe he was getting it elsewhere popped into her mind. The problem was, she knew Richie. He wasn’t like that. The guy had had his heart torn out by his ex-wife. That’s when she began to wonder if she was just the rebound.
A black sports car ahead slowed as it closed in on her. The driver, a goatee wearing goon with slick-backed hair ogled her as he crawled by.
This seemed to be part of her walks. She never got used to it. Douchebags thought they could stare at your body just because you were trying to take care of it. Richie had made a comment about her short-shorts, that’s what he called them, saying one of these days she’d have a gaggle of tongue-wagging beasts following her home. But she didn’t care. She wasn’t trying to turn heads, she just wanted to be comfortable while she ran.
As the goon drove off, without saying something lewd, she found herself grinning. Despite the lowest common denominator Neanderthals’ slow drive-by and sleazy gaze, at the moment, it raised her spirit.
At least someone thought she was hot.
She pushed on. She normally just walked or jogged around the block a few times. She decided to take a side trek down Lincoln Avenue.
She moved beyond this morning and thought about the incident at work last night.
She really had been scared shitless. It wasn’t the first time a creep had tried to get her to fill a wonky prescription, but it was the first time she’d ever encountered one outside of her safe little pharmacy hovel.
She’d managed to fend him off until Jason came out and made sure the animal was contained. She hated that she found herself attracted to him. Not that her and Richie were married or that she would ever cheat on him, but it felt wrong thinking he was good-looking. His smoky blue eyes, and those curly blond locks pulled back in a short ponytail. He had a Matthew McConnaughey thing going for him, that was for sure.
There’s no harm looking.
As she turned down Lincoln, she shook her head.
Jason was just getting out of his truck. She slowed and stopped.
“Hey there, Ally Cat. Where you runnin’ to?” Jason said.
After a few seconds to catch her breath, she said, “Just getting in my daily burn. What are you up to?”
She wished she wasn’t sweating like a hog. He probably thought she needed a shower.
“Just grabbing a bite to eat at the Moe’s. You got time for a coffee?”
“No, I have to work tonight. Plus, I think Richie’s son is joining us this afternoon.”
He nodded. “Yeah, just as well,” he said. “We went in there together, you dressed like that, folks might start to talk.”
Heat flooded her cheeks.
She tucked a loose strand of her dark-brown hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear and looked toward the diner’s window. “Yeah, well, I don’t think they’d want this sweaty mess in there anyway.”
She turned back to see him looking her over, not in a perverted way, just a quick scope, and then he brought his gaze to hers. He did have such beautiful eyes.
“Well, another time,” he said.
“Sure,” she replied. “Well, I gotta get movin’ on.”
“Yeah, well, tell Richie I said hello. And if you need any more rescuing, I’m just a call away.”
“Thanks, Jason. See you tonight?”
“Nope, I’m off, but I told Allan to keep an eye out for sketchy geeks like the one we had last night.”
“Cool. Thank you. I’ll see you in a few nights, then.”
He gave another nod as she started down the sidewalk.
Another time, he’d said. More like another life. Coffee wasn’t cheating, right?
She shook the thoughts from her head. Now it was her time to feel guilty.
She’d finish her run, check to see if Richie had managed to get Samantha to let him have James, and put her focus where it should be, on them.
Having James around should be just the shot in the arm Richie needed.
Chapter Three
James’s night with Garrett’s parents went just as badly as he knew it would. It was official– Linda and Garth Stevens were as annoying as their son. Despite being in his mid-sixties, Garth had a full head of unnatural black hair, the beady eyes of a rat, smelled like a whole bottle of bad cologne, and spoke with more of a condescending tone than his son. His wife’s face was pulled so high and tight that she looked more like a creepy, plastic doll than a well-kept woman in her fifties. She sat quietly at her husband’s side except to laugh at his horrible jokes, “yes dear”-ing to all his exaggerated tales of their son’s so-called great life. She also drank more wine than any of the other grown-ups at the table.
His own mom had been next to no help throughout the forced gathering. She corrected his table manners when she had never cared about dinner etiquette before, even going as far as telling him to watch his tone and calling him rude when he tried to excuse himself early to his room. Topping it all off, she felt compelled to throw in a couple of cheap shots at his father. Instead of letting him go in peace like Dad and Alison would have done, she chose to hold him hostage. He sat through it all: the Stevens family history of success, Garrett’s stupid company paintball tournament, and even worse, the eventual inclusion of himself into the mix– the uncalled for interrogation of young James.
“What are your hobbies?” Garth asked.
“I don’t know,” James said. “I like movies, books, and monsters.”
“Monsters?” Linda guffawed. “Surely you have more intellectual pursuits in mind?”
“No worries, Linda. I’m sure Garrett will instill some direction in young James yet.” Garth squeezed Garrett’s shoulder. Garrett, who, despite the throbbing vein in his forehead that threatened to rend from his flesh with each of James’s curt answers, remained mostly quiet throughout the dinner. Now, he flashed a sinister grin at James and nodded.
“What would you like to be when you grow up? What are your aspirations?” Garth continued.
James wanted to blow his own brains out into their lobster butter.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“How do you like Evergreen?”
“Are you at least looking ahead, making a list of colleges? It’s never too soon to set some goals.”
The way James saw it, how he felt about anything was none of their business. He gave them short, curt answers which were all pretty much true, except for the one about Evergreen. He’d said he liked it just fine, but truth was he absolutely hated this crummy stuck-up town. Despite his honesty, he could tell his reluctance to fully participate annoyed both his mom and Garrett to no end, Garrett most of all. His face was red, his nostrils flaring like there was no tomorrow, and his hands both clenched into fists around his lobster cracker.
Eventually realizing that they would not be getting the exclusive in-depth intervie
w with him they were looking for, he was excused and quickly fled to the sanctuary of his bedroom. Minutes after settling onto his bed with the new Jonathan Janz book, there was a stern knock-knock on his door, swiftly followed by Garrett’s intrusion into his space.
“What the hell was that about?” Garrett said.
He sat in silence, a little too intimidated to answer. He knew better than to get smart with his mom’s boyfriend. Garrett had never laid a hand on him, but the man wasn’t afraid to throw a little verbal abuse his way if he thought the moment called for it.
“You don’t have to like me. You don’t have to be happy with your mom. You don’t have to like my parents. But you damn well better show a helluva lot more respect for your elders, boy. You hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah?”
James snapped to attention as Garrett strode over to his bedside, leaning his face so close to James’s that he could feel the man’s warm fish breath on his cheek. He couldn’t stand that this guy scared him so easily. With the jerk being in such uncomfortable proximity to him, James’s body stiffened as his pulse accelerated. He knew Garrett could read his fear like the books on his own shelf.
“That’s right, boy.”
With that, he watched as his mom’s boyfriend left the room, not quite slamming the door, but closing it with enough authority to punctuate his message.
James prayed to God to help take from this place. He and God had been pushing each other pretty good this last year. His parents had stopped attending church when he was nine, although his dad had recently mentioned he was thinking of starting up again. Regardless, James had never had much reason to stop believing. It wasn’t really something he thought of or talked much about in his waking hours, usually just a prayer or two before bed. He liked to think that he and God had their own private relationship. Being here in Garrett’s house, especially after tonight’s fiasco, he couldn’t help but feel the man upstairs wasn’t pulling his weight. James drew his knees up to his chest, folded his arms around them, buried his head in the darkness they provided, and cried.
