Now I needed to figure a way to get rid of Buster and convince Kace it was what was best for her.
I felt as if someone was behind me, and I turned to face the aisle. As I did, Kace picked up my hoodie and tossed it over the table to her seat. She slid along the seat of the booth until she was against my arm. She turned and looked up at me and smiled, resting her head on my bicep.
As she leaned against me, I noticed she was about a foot shorter than I was.
I love short women.
And the thought of beating Buster’s ass.
Chapter 6
KACE. Talking to Shane made me feel like a woman again. He was nice to me because he was a nice person. He thought I was pretty. He told me I was beautiful. We had been communicating through my gmail account on my phone, because Buster couldn’t trace it.
I really liked calling Josh Buster in my head. I was afraid I would accidentally do it one time to his face. Shane told me to find a way to leave Josh even if it didn’t include thoughts of Shane and I being together. He said I needed to find a way to leave him for myself, and not for the reward of being with someone else or the thought of having a relationship with him.
He explained I needed to do it for me. It seemed easy, and as much as I had grown to hate Josh, it was almost incomprehensible for me to think of leaving him. When I thought of it my head spun in circles. I could think of one reason to leave him and about a hundred reasons to stay.
Change scared me. It scared me to death. What if this. What if that. Even though Josh was a prick and he treated me like shit, I have a home with him. And I can always come home. Home, for me, is a comfortable place. If someone could just decide for me it would make everything so much easier. For me to decide might take forever, maybe even a little bit longer than forever.
On the weekends, Josh often left for a good part of the day. He rarely took me with him. When I would ask him where he was going, his answer was generally out.
When he left, I usually baked.
Baking made me happy. I enjoyed baking things. It satisfied me greatly to have someone eat what I prepared and tell me they liked it. When I got upset I baked far more than normal. The baking settled me down and allowed me to feel as if I was accomplishing something. Maybe it was because there was a beginning and an end to it. Maybe I enjoyed creating it from my own mind. My hands creating something allowed me to feel a degree of accomplishment.
Maybe it was all of those things combined.
I was baking pecan and butterscotch chip cookies for Josh. They were his favorite. I had no idea why I was still concerned with making something Josh liked. I never eat this shit. I baked it and he ate it. He took cookies in his lunch, ate them in bed, and ate on the couch while he played video games.
Josh was disgusting.
I pulled the cookies from the oven and set them on the rack to cool. The Tupperware I was placing the cookies in was almost full. Six dozen cookies was a lot of cookies, but not for Josh. He would eat six dozen cookies in about three days or so.
Josh is fat and disgusting.
Shane isn’t.
Every morning, Shane called me at work and we would talk for a few minutes. I couldn’t talk on my cell phone, so he would call me on my work phone. We talked about everything and about nothing. Sometimes I would just sit and listen to him talk or listen to him breathe. Knowing he was there was enough. Someone who wouldn’t treat me like shit. Someone who actually cared.
My time with Shane was valuable to me. If I didn’t get to talk to him it was disappointing. It wasn’t that I was disappointed in him - it was just let down if it didn’t happen. It had become so easy to enjoy his time, and I could do it without worry or effort. Shane didn’t judge me. And he never said anything bad to me.
I removed the cookies from the sheet with the spatula and placed them in the Tupperware. There was almost no dough left and the container was full, so I began washing out the bowl. As I was cleaning the bowl in the sink, I heard the key in the door. My muscles tensed and I started shaking.
Buster.
“What the fuck, did this sum bitch catch fire while I was gone?” he bellowed from the doorway.
“I cooked your favorite cookies,” I said as he walked into the kitchen.
“No bake?” he asked.
You hate no bake cookies, you miserable asshole.
“No, the butterscotch with pecans,” I turned from the sink and smiled.
He reached into the Tupperware container and took a handful of cookies. As he walked to the refrigerator, I could smell the beer on his breath. Perfect, he’s drunk. I started shaking even worse as I rinsed the bowl in the sink. As he reached into the refrigerator, I began to dry the bowl.
“You drink my fuckin’ beer, you whore?” he asked, his head stuffed in the refrigerator.
“I don’t drink beer, Josh. You know that,” I responded.
“Don’t back talk me you slut,” he said as he shut the refrigerator door.
“Somebody drank ‘em. There’s only five left. I had a twelver in that ‘fridge,” he said as he opened the can of beer.
“Only you and I are in the house, Josh. So if they’re gone, you drank them,” I said softly as I dried the bowl with the dish towel.
“You callin’ me stupid?” he asked.
“No,” I looked down at the floor.
“Well, I know who lives here. And I know what I drunk and I know what I didn’t. Who you had in here while I was gone?” he asked as he stuffed another cookie in his mouth.
“No one, Josh,” I answered.
“Now you wanna lie,” he said as he tipped his beer can up to his mouth.
“Back talk me and lie. Somebody has been up in this bitch. My fuckin’ beer is gone. Now tell me who,” he demanded.
“No one,” I repeated. He was scaring me. I really didn’t want to be hit.
“Then where’s my beer?” he screamed.
Sometimes we make decisions and we think the decisions we make are to our benefit. Other times, we make decisions and at the time we make them, they seem to be what makes sense, and later we find out they weren’t such a good idea. Being able to discern the good decisions from the bad decisions, in advance, would be priceless.
“I drank them,” I said.
“How you gonna pay to replace them, you dumb whore? I knew you were drinkin’ my beers. Probably drank that fuckin’ Jack too, didn’t ya?”
I nodded.
I didn’t see it coming, but I felt the impact. His hand hit my face so hard everything went black. I spun in a circle, and landed on the floor. When I could see again I was on the floor, and he was hovering over me, his fists clenched.
“You can drink my beers and you’ll pay me for ‘em. But no one fucks with my Jack. You know that. I knew you drunk it you little drunken whore,” he screamed as he grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me to my feet.
“Josh, no! I didn’t drink them,” I cried, my hair pulled tight by his left hand.
“Well, either way, you’re lying. You said you did, you said you didn’t. One’s a lie,” he stuffed a cookie in his mouth and took a drink of beer.
Smack!
He hit me harder than he has ever hit me before. I don’t know what he hit me with or where it impacted me, but my mouth hurt like hell. I could taste blood. I pushed the back of my teeth with my tongue. One was loose.
I opened my eyes. Everything was blurry. My lips already felt ten times bigger than normal. As I cried and sobbed, he pulled me toward the refrigerator by my hair. Grabbing the back of my hair in his hand, he opened the refrigerator door and shoved my head inside.
“How many beers you see up in this motherfucker?” he screamed.
I blinked and looked inside. I could see nothing. My eyes wouldn’t focus.
He said he had five earlier…
“Four,” I guessed.
“See any Jack?” he screamed.
“No,” I answered.
He pulled me down to the floor by my hair and
shoved me with his hand, sending me across the floor on my back. I relaxed on the floor, lying on my back crying. I turned my head to the side so I could still see him. The pain in my face and mouth was unbearable.
I watched his hand as he reached into the refrigerator. I heard him open another beer and take a very long series of drinks.
“Know why?” he asked.
“Why what?” I asked.
“What the fuck we talking about, you dumb cunt?” he screamed.
“Josh, I don’t know. I’m scared. You hit me, I’m hurt and bleeding. Please…”
“I don’t give a fuck if you’re bleedin’. The Jack! The fucking Jack Daniels, Kace. You know why you don’t see it?” he screamed.
“No?” I answered, confused.
“Cause you drunk it,” he screamed.
I saw the blur of his boot and thought he was stepping over me to go to the other room.
Chapter 7
KACE. When I woke up, my face felt as if it were stuck to the tile floor. I lifted my head from the large spot of dried blood on the floor. My mouth was throbbing. I reached toward my face and felt my lips. They were both mangled. I had a piece of Josh’s boot heel in my mouth. I spit it onto the floor.
White.
I picked it up and looked at it. I blinked and looked again.
Oh no. He didn’t.
I circled my tongue around my front teeth. It caught on an opening in the front.
I looked at what I held in my hand.
That motherfucker kicked my tooth out.
I could hear the video game playing as he screamed in the other room. I looked around the kitchen. Two empty beer cans sat on the kitchen counter. The cookies were gone. My bowl sat on top of the counter where I had left it.
Who beats their girlfriend to a pulp on the floor, kicks her teeth out, and then takes a beer and cookies into the other room to play video games while she lie in a puddle of blood on the floor?
Fucking Buster. That’s who.
I stuck my tooth in my jeans pocket.
I picked up the bowl and felt it in my hands.
Not heavy enough.
I opened the bottom cabinet and looked inside. I quietly pulled the largest cast-iron skillet from the cabinet. Oh yeah. This should work. I tip-toed out of the kitchen and to the rear of the living room. He was sitting on the couch, facing the television and playing video games. His back was toward me.
This could be just perfect.
Fucking cocksucker.
I could see the back of his head over the top of the couch. I knew if I walked in behind him, he might see me and catch me. As he screamed at the television, I ran as fast as I could toward him - the cast-iron skillet held high above my head with both hands. As he looked to his right, his mouth began to open and his eyes were as big as saucers.
The skillet came down hard. When it hit his forehead, it made an awful thud. I hated to, but I smiled when it bounced off of his head.
I stood over him and admired my handy work.
I dropped the skillet on the floor behind the couch and looked at him. His forehead already developed a knot the size of half a baseball. His head was split open, but not as bad as my lips were. I looked at him and how he was slumped into the couch and shook my head. Although my heart was beating at a very rapid pace, I was surprisingly calm.
I walked to my bedroom and grabbed my purse, Kindle, and cell phone. I walked into the living room and checked Josh. He was still unconscious. I reached down on the floor and grabbed the cast iron skillet and took it with me as I walked into the bedroom again.
I opened the closet door and pulled out the largest piece of luggage I had. I unzipped it and began stuffing all of my work clothes into it. I ran to the dresser and grabbed socks, panties, and shirts. When the bag was almost full, I shoved in as many pairs of shoes as I could. I zipped the luggage and drug it into the other room.
Still unconscious.
I dropped the luggage on the floor and walked back into the bedroom and grabbed the skillet.
Slowly, I walked toward the couch. I reached down and picked up his cell phone from the floor. I stepped back and thought as I looked at him sprawled out on the couch. The crotch of his pants was soaked.
Fuck this asshole.
I leaned over his body and pushed my hand into his pants pocket. There we go. I pulled out the keys to his truck. I looked to the side of the couch toward where he had removed his boots and smiled. I slid my purse over my shoulder and walked toward his boots. I dropped the keys and phone into his boots and picked them up. I walked back, grabbed the luggage, and pulled it behind me to the front door. As I opened the front door, I looked around the house. I needed nothing else. I guess, ultimately, what Shane had said was right.
When walking away from something we were once committed to, we often hesitate. Deciding to make a major change in life is difficult. But we all reach a point when we’re done. Done giving to a world that only takes. Until then, you’ll want, you’ll wait, and you’ll contemplate change. When you’re truly done, you’ll know. You’ll know when the time comes.
You’ll know when the time comes.
The time has come.
Chapter 8
SHANE. “Hand me those tongs, this side of the chicken is done,” I said toward Ripp.
“Fuck, I don’t know where they are,” he screamed back.
“They’re right beside you, Jesus,” I hollered as I held the lid of the barbeque grill in the air, “right where you set them. And why the fuck are we screaming?”
He turned and looked at the table on the edge of the deck. As he reached for the tongs, my phone rang.
“Phone’s ringing, Dekk,” he screamed as he tossed me the tongs.
I grasped each piece of chicken with the tongs, and flipped them over on the grill. Ripp and I had somewhat of a tradition of eating barbequed chicken every Saturday evening. I loved to eat healthy, and enjoyed our tradition. Ripp wasn’t as concerned as I was with food, and typically would eat whatever someone handed him. He worked harder in his exercise routines to get rid of it.
I used this as a means of making him eat healthy. It was my way of letting him relax a little from his rigorous exercise regimen.
I closed the lid of the grill and pulled my phone from my pocket. Kace.
Okay, this is weird. She never calls or texts.
I pushed redial and called her phone back.
“Who was it?” Ripp asked.
“Kace,” I said and turned to face away from him.
She answered the phone and began to talk a hundred miles an hour. I could understand about every other word.
“Slow down…slow down, what’s wrong?” I asked.
“I left,” she responded.
“Like left, left?” I asked.
“Left, left,” she responded.
“Can I come to where you are? Juth for a little bit? I need to thee you,” she asked.
“Are you okay?” I asked as I turned to face Ripp.
I placed my hand over the mouth piece of the phone.
“Can she come here for a bit?” I whispered toward Ripp
He shrugged his shoulders, turned his palms up, and nodded his head.
“Yeah you can come here, you have a way to write down the address?” I asked.
“Tetht it to me,” she said.
“Your voice sounds funny, you have a lisp,” I said.
“I’ll tell you about it when I get there,” she said.
“Alright, I’ll text it to you. Who’s the most beautiful woman in the world,” I asked.
“Right now, I hath no idea. I’ll thee you in a minute,” she laughed.
She hung up and I placed my phone in my pocket. We had never seen each other on the weekends, only during lunch at the diner across the street from her office. My mind raced. I thought of all of the possibilities. It had been about a month since we first met at the diner, and I knew she was becoming fond of me – she never hesitated to tell me.
; I suspected there had to be something to drive her over the edge. Her lisp had me worried. I stood and stared at the barbeque grill.
“Dekk, you alright?” Ripp asked as he walked up to my side.
“Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” I responded.
“You sure? Your friend alright?” he asked as he opened the grill.
“I don’t know. I have a feeling something happened,” I responded.
“Like?” he asked.
“I don’t know. But I know this. If she so much as has a fingerprint on her, I’m going to go beat the brakes off of that dirt bag. Where’s my fucking hoodie?” I asked.
“It’s on the lounge,” Ripp responded as he pointed toward the lounge chair.
“Brother, if he touched a hair on her head, you’ll have to beat me to him. I’ll beat his ass for you. Until he’s a pile of bones. No one beats a woman that I know about. Not and gets away with it. So, I got this, Dekk. I got it. Just because that’s how we do it here in Texas,” he laughed.
“I’m serious,” I said.
“So am I,” he responded as extended his arm and made a clenched fist.
He nodded toward his hand.
“C’mon do it,” he said.
I gritted my teeth and made a fist.
He nodded his head again, “I got this.”
I bumped his fist with mine.
And I knew.
Ripp had my back.
Chapter 9
KACE. We make decisions which may impact or have an effect on our lives, and at times we regret or past decisions. I try to live my life without regret. There have been plenty of times I wish my life were different, but I never regret the path I have taken that got me to where I stand. I looked into the the rearview mirror. My face was covered in blood. My lips split open, my tooth was missing and my hair was lightly matted with blood.
I smiled. Immediately, I winced from the pain of my split lips.
FEELS LIKE THE FIRST TIME Page 43