“That sounds like a lot of work.”
“I think you had it wrong when you told him that you’re more fucked up than him,” she said with a sad sigh. “Pray. Meditate. Concentrate on what life was like before you came here, because Samuel,” she paused. “Because you’re never going to see that life again.”
I didn’t argue with her. Not just because she’d been there for years and I thought arguing with her would be a waste of energy, but because somewhere deep inside I knew she was right.
She went silent shortly after that, and I assumed she fell asleep in whatever hole she was placed in. Without a lot left to keep my mind from torture and death, I closed my eyes and used the simple meditation breathing technique that Mirna had taught me. I took a few deep breaths, well, as deep as I could without choking to death, and I tried to focus on what my life looked like before I was shot. I was happy-ish. I had family. I had respect. What I didn’t have. Was HER. Even when I pictured the cast of characters in my life, King, Doe, Bear, and Grace there was someone else standing further off in the distance, overshadowing the people standing right in front of me.
She was overlooking the bay with her back to me. Her dark hair blowing around in the wind. She turned around to face me just as I got close, her dark eyes softening when she saw me, her smile tugging at the corners of her plump lips. When she spoke it made my heart beat faster and I drifted off into a state of semi-consciousness, surrounded by her words echoing in every corner of my brain over and over again on an endless loop of regret.
Keep me.
Twenty-Nine
PREPPY
When the doorbell rang I thought it was Billy, who was supposed to be dropping off some fresh blue crab before I headed out to see Dre. I wanted to take her mind off Mirna and what better way to do that than a nice homemade crab dinner, followed by my face between her legs, and my tongue deep inside her pussy, for an undetermined amount of time?
When I opened the door, it wasn’t Billy. It wasn’t even a man. A woman stood on my porch, She had shoulder length bleach-blond hair and she smelled of hairspray. Her glossy lips were painted bright pink. She stared up at me with big golden eyes like she was waiting for me to say something. “You’re the one that knocked on my door, lady,” I said, wondering what the fuck was keeping Billy. The woman adjusted the short sleeved jacket of her white pant suite, gold bangle bracelets slid up and down on her wrist when she moved, clinking together loudly.
When she didn’t say anything and continued to stare up at me, I raised the volume of my voice and spoke slowly, “Can I help you?” I wasn’t even sure if she’d blinked. I knew I was a sight to behold but god-fucking-damn lady, I had places to be. Over her shoulder was a shiny white Cadillac SUV. The front window was tinted dark so I couldn’t see anyone in it, but I could hear the engine running.
The sunlight glinted off of the humungous rock on her left hand and I flinched when the beam of light shot me directly in the fucking eye. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, moving her hand behind her back. “And yes, yes you can help me. Although, the reason I’m here is because I didn’t help you.”
“But let me guess, Jesus can help me?” I asked, leaning up against the door frame. “'Cause I gotta tell you, lady, that you should stop before you even start ‘cause you’re waisting your time with me. It don’t matter what kind of god you’re selling today, I’m not buying it. I don’t need to go to church to know I’m a sinner and whatever god up there that might exist is fully aware of who I am and hasn’t struck me down just yet. So the way I see it, me and God have a good thing going and you know how that saying goes, don’t fix it, if it ain’t broken.”
I went to close the door and call Billy to see when I could expect him, when the woman’s hand shot out and grabbed onto it before it could click shut. “Samuel! Wait!” she shouted, and that’s when the recognition slammed into me head first.
It couldn’t be.
But it was.
I opened the door again, taking another look at the woman in front of me. “Mom?”
“Yes, Samuel,” she said with a small smile. Happy I recognized her. “It’s me.”
I’d been angry a time or two in my life. I’d been confused. I’d been hurt. But I’d never been more murderously irate than I was right then. I balled my fists. The heat of my sudden rage threatened to boil me alive. “Get the fuck off my property,” I hissed, taking a step out onto the porch. She had no choice but to drop down to the first step or be trampled. I glared down at her with all the hate that had been festering in my soul for years. “I thought you were dead.”
“I’m not,” she said, her hands shaking.
“Shame.”
“I…I deserve that,” she said, glancing back at the SUV where an older man in a sport coat got out of the car and buttoned his jacket. “Mitch, it’s okay. We’re just talking,” she called out to him.
“No, we’re not. Leave. NOW!” I demanded.
“That’s my husband, Mitch,” my mom said, pointing back to the man.
“You were always good at ignoring me,” I muttered, feeling the pressure build behind my eyes. If she didn’t take my warning, things were going to end badly for her.
“Samuel, I’ll be quick. I promise. Two minutes, that’s all I want,” she said, raising her eyebrows and waiting for me to respond.
“You have one minute.”
She spoke quickly. “I came here because it’s part of my rehab. To make amends with those I’ve wronged and I’ve wronged you the most.”
“No wonder I didn’t recognize you. You’re sober. Never seen that look on you before. And there is no need to make amends, there is only a need to get the fuck out. NOW.”
She dropped down another step but still didn’t leave. “Four years now. Four years, I’ve been sober.”
“Congratufuckinglations! Took you four fucking years to want to apologize for the shit mom you were?” I laughed and leaned over. “Apology not accepted.”
“I didn’t know what to say to you four years ago.”
“Oh, but you do now?” I asked. “This should be good. All right, let’s hear it,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and waiving for her to continue.
“I’m sorry, Samuel. I was an addict. Still am, ‘cause it’s a sickness that never really goes away. I’ve made some bad choices and I hurt you. I’ll never forgive myself and I don’t expect you to either.”
“You hurt me? You make it sound like you ran over my bicycle.”
She took a deep breath, and I could tell she was trying to steady her nerves because her hands shook harder, along with her voice. “When I left I didn’t know where you were or where you went. I didn’t look for you. And for that, I’m sorry. I should have looked for you. I should have come back for you. I shouldn’t have left at all, but most of all, I shouldn’t have given up on you. I ignored you as if you weren’t there and I don’t expect you to want to have a relationship with me, but I thank you for letting me speak my peace. This is for you,” she said, taking a small piece of folded up paper from her pocket. She held it up for me to take and when I didn’t, she set it on the step by my feet and backed down the steps. When she reached the bottom, she turned around and her heel caught in the gravel. She fell sideways, catching the railing to right herself again. She straightened, adjusted her jacket, and was about to head back toward her awaiting car.
Suddenly, rage wasn’t even a word. I was beyond rage. I was beyond anger. I was something that existed in another fucking realm and this bitch was not getting away with her half-assed apology.
“Fuck that!” I said, leaping down the steps and stepping in front of her, cutting her off from the SUV. “If you’re going to apologize then you need to know what you should be apologizing for,” I said, feeling the fire flaring out of my nostrils as I spoke through gritted teeth. I could strangle her, shoot the motherfucker by the car, and burn them both in the fire pit in the backyard, and still be on time to make Dre dinner.
Possibilities.<
br />
“You don’t get to unburden your soul and walk the fuck away when I can’t ever have that same privilege because of you!” I yelled. “What the fuck do you think was going on while you were doing all that ignoring you’re so fucking good at, huh? You saw the bruises so I know that you know about the beatings, but what you don’t know is that while you were too busy forgetting you had a son, Tim didn’t forget. In fact, Tim was paying close attention to me. Very close.” I was right up in her face when I added, “He paid me so much attention that he knew how I like my dick jerked. He knew what made me come before I even knew.”
“Noooo,” she said, her eyes going wide, she tried to take a step back, but I closed the distance between us again. There was no way I was going to let her back away from what I had to say.
“So much attention that he knew how tight my asshole was,” I continued. She wrapped her arms around her stomach. “So much, that when he was too drunk to come, he blamed me then beat me until I passed out.”
“That’s not possible,” she whispered, her hand covering her mouth.
“It’s fucking possible and it fucking happened,” I spat. “Over and over again it happened, in the very next room, under the same fucking roof. It happened BECAUSE of you. Because you did nothing to stop it. Because you weren’t there or didn’t care. So you see, you didn’t just ignore me. You forgot you had a son and left me in the hands of a man who I’d wished forgot I was there.”
She shook her head in disbelief, and either she really didn’t believe me or she was processing the cement truck I’d just dropped on her head. Either way, it was her head shaking from side to side that pushed me over the edge I’d been teetering on. My vision became a blur and I couldn’t see beyond the hatred that was either blinding me or making me see clearer than I ever had before. I pulled my gun from the front of my pants and pushed the barrel to her forehead. She dropped to her knees.
“Son, wait!” the man in the blazer called out, jogging up to us. I cocked the gun and he stopped in his tracks.
“Son?” I asked with a laugh. I looked down to my mother who was whimpering. “You might really want to rethink your choice of words there, motherfucker. ‘Cause Mama and me aren’t exactly having the friendliest of family reunions, so that word makes me a little twitchy.” I tapped the trigger to show him what I meant and Mitch stopped behind my mother, raising his arms in surrender.
“Put your god damned hands down, man,” I spat. “I’m not robbing! I’m killing, don’t get it twisted.”
“Please. No!” Mitch pled.
“Fuck off,” I told Mitch. I looked down at the woman before me on her knees, her white pants dirtied by the driveway, and all I wanted was for her to feel what I felt. Live how I lived. “Maybe I'll have one of my biker friends come over and fuck you in the ass in front of your husband,” I told her. “Rape you. Take what you don't want to give. Fuck what you don't want fucked, but unlike you, I won't ignore it. I won't turn my back on it. I'll watch. I'll cheer. And I'll fucking rejoice when he splits you in two."
My piece of shit mother wailed and shook as one would naturally do when they know they’re about to meet their end. “Samuel, please…” she begged, her black eye makeup ran down her face and it seemed fitting that she was crying dirty tears.
“You know Mom…” I started, turning the barrel of the gun on her head, tangling it in her hair. “To me, you’ve never looked better than you do right now…at the end of my gun.”
Billy’s van pulled in the end of the driveway and he hopped out with the cooler in his arms. He took in the scene in front of him, glancing from me to my gun to my mom to Mitch, before landing back on me.
“You can’t kill me,” my mother stated on a sob. “He’s, he’s a witness.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked. “Hey Billy, put the crab in my trunk, will you? I’m leaving here after I take care of this situation.”
Billy nodded. “No problem, man. You need any help with that?” He jerked his chin to the bitch on her knees. “I got some time before I gotta get the girls from soccer.”
“I’m straight,” I answered.
“All righty then,” he said, turning toward the garage and whistling as he walked.
I kneeled down in front of my mother and shoved the gun under her chin, jerking her chin up to face me. “Something tells me he wouldn’t make a very good witness,” I pointed out, Billy’s whistle still echoing over the house.
“I didn’t know,” my mom wailed. “I promise I didn’t know what was happening. I swear.”
“That’s the fucking problem!” I shouted, standing back up. My finger leaning heavy against the trigger. Just a little more pressure and it would be over. SHE would be over. The burden on my chest would be lifted. Just a few more seconds, and I could make all the things right that she made wrong.
But no matter if I killed her a million times over, it couldn’t turn back time. It couldn’t make her a better mom. It couldn’t make Tim unrape a scared and lonely kid.
“Go ahead, I deserve it,” she said.
“Nancy. No,” Mitch said, finally lowering his hands. I glanced up at the worry written all over his face. The guy actually seemed to care about the cunt, and suddenly I felt sick to my stomach. Not because I didn’t want to kill her. I did. But because I wasn’t going to.
“I want you to think about what I told you. I hope it’s seeped into that bleached brain of yours. I hope it gives you nightmares and you think about him grunting over my back while you were passed out on the other couch.” My mother cried out and her shoulders shook violently. “You both have ten fucking seconds to get in that car and get off my property, before I start firing. Mitch, you make sure this bitch stays far far away, because if I so much as find out that you’ve come within twenty miles of me, I will come for you, and I don’t care if there are a thousand witnesses around. I will put a bullet in both of you, but before I do I’ll seek out your friends. Your other family. Anyone close to you. Anyone you know, and I’ll end them first so you’ll know I’m coming for you. If you don’t think I’m serious, all you have to do is cross me and you’ll motherfucking find out. You have ten seconds.” I leaned down next to her and ran the gun down her face. Oh, how it would be so easy. “RUN BITCH!” I shouted in her ear. She stumbled, falling backwards on the gravel. Mitch rushed to her aid, picking her up by her elbows and practically dragging her to the car as he ran and she struggled to keep up.
The tires spun as they fishtailed down the driveway. I ran after them, aimed my gun, and fired several bullets into their bumper, before falling to my knees on the road.
As their SUV drove out of sight it looked as if they were being swallowed up by a black hole that grew bigger and bigger until they were gone and there was nothing at all.
Thirty
DRE
When Billy came over and told me what he’d seen over at Preppy’s, I wasted no time hopping in Mirna’s car. It was the second time I’d been behind a wheel in years, but the dread I once felt toward driving was an afterthought, far behind the one that told me I had to get to Preppy as soon as possible.
I hadn’t put too much thought into where he lived so I didn’t know what I was expecting to see when I pulled up to the address Billy had given me, but the three-story stilt home towering over the smooth waters of the bay, was not it.
There wasn’t too much time to linger on the view, or on the siding in much need of repair, or the overgrown plant beds, because a crash sounded from somewhere inside the house and I bolted from the car, leaving the engine running and the door open. I tried the front door but it was locked. I banged on the screen, ringing the doorbell several times over, but my only answer was the squawking of a bird from a nearby tree. I attempted to open the window but it didn’t budge. I hopped off the porch and darted around the back of the house, taking two steps at a time, losing my flip flops in the process. The back door was not only unlocked but had been left partially open.
“Preppy?” I asked, pushing open t
he door so hard it slammed against the wall with a thud. I darted from room to room, finding them all empty. It was dark and musty, the curtains all drawn and not a single light was on. The smell of weed and something sinister hung heavy in the air. The shag carpet was old and stiff, stabbing the bottoms of my bare feet as I jogged down the hallway, stopping in front of a closed door when I heard movement from within.
“Preppy!” I called out, jiggling the handle but it didn’t budge. When there was no answer I ran back to the kitchen and searched for something I could use to unlock it. I grabbed a knife from a drawer but dropped it when my eyes locked on the bar stools. I darted around the corner, picked one up and lugged it down the hall. I didn’t stop at the door, but instead used every bit of my forward momentum to hurl the stool against it. Over and over again I bashed the legs of the stool into the door, splintering the wood around the handle until I made a hole large enough to fit a couple of my fingers through, the jagged wood slicing my skin as I felt around for the lock and flipped it open. I wasted no time opening the door.
I tried to prepare myself for the worst.
The worst was exactly what I found.
One look at him was all it took to realize how wrong I’d been. The spark I’d seen in his eyes that first night wasn’t the sign of a monster. It wasn’t the glint of an evil man.
It was a warning.
A warning that he’d been hurt and had never healed. It was the anger and the fear of his past lurking just beyond the surface waiting for him to finally break.
And break he did.
The room was dark, except for the green lava lamp on the bedside table and a small reading lamp that was turned over onto the floor, blinking on and off. Preppy was pacing the room, shirtless. His jeans were open and hanging low on his hips, his belt dangling from the loops. His hair was disheveled. He carried a bottle of whiskey by the neck in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other.
King Series Firsts Box Set: King, Lawless & Preppy Part One Page 64