A Heartbeat from Destruction (The Heartbeat Saga Book 1)

by Reece Hinze

  The kid looked up at him with puppy dog eyes and stammered something incoherent in protest. “I know the way out,” Paul snapped and walked out of the cell forever. The kid followed but stopped, hanging his head in defeat.

  He won’t last long. They never do.

  Prison is a warehouse for caged animals. In order to survive, you have to become one yourself. Paul found his way to the processing office where he found an enormously obese officer more concerned with some people shouting over paternity results on his small T.V. than helping him. Oh, hell no. He don’t even look like me. Yes he do! Yes he do! Paul slammed the small bell on top of the counter hard. It toppled backwards off out of sight.

  “Name?” The man said without looking away. Crumbs sprayed all over his tax payer funded keyboard.

  “Slaughter. Paul Slaughter.” He looked at the fat man’s grease smudged name badge and sarcastically added, “Officer Johnson.”

  Johnson rolled his eyes and wiped his damp forehead with a shirt sleeve. He was sweating bullets even though it was a perfectly comfortable. Paul winced at the thin line of perspiration that disappeared and reappeared into the rolls on the man’s chin as he talked.

  “Do you really think I give a shit, boy?” Johnson asked. A great effort lifted the man from his rolling chair. He waddled to a metal door and fumbled with the lock for what seemed like a long time.

  You are the father. Ohhhhhhh! Oh hell nah! Oh hell nah!

  At that moment, Paul would have served five more years just to choke the lard out of his fat ass. Finally Officer Johnson returned with a small plastic bag with S-L-A-T-T-E-R sharpied on the side. He collapsed into a chair that resembled Atlas holding the world and he took the items out of the bag one at a time.

  “One silver cross with necklace.”

  Paul tapped his shoe.

  “One crumpled receipt.”

  Officer Johnson looked at Paul with an expression of, why are you wasting my time? He threw the receipt through the glass opening and hit Paul in his chest who left the paper on the ground where it lay. Johnson picked out the next item and looked at it admiringly. Paul had seen that look before on the guards with looser morals. He stuck out a tattooed arm and gestured for the man to hand it over.

  The officer shrugged. “One stainless watch, one black leather wallet, thirteen dollars, one MasterCard.” Paul reached for them. Johnson pulled away twice before handing them over and chuckling to himself like a schoolyard bully. Paul looked at the card.

  Damn, expired last year.

  “A picture of… whoa. Damn boy, who do we have here?” Johnson held an old Polaroid close to his eyes, rotating it from side to side.

  “Give me that you fuck,” Paul said, snatching the picture through the glass opening. He glanced quickly at the beautiful brunette but he didn’t need to see the photo to remember that smile. He memorized every detail years ago.

  Johnson laughed. “I’m saving that one for the spank bank, boy.”

  Paul cringed. “Your name is Officer Dick for a reason, huh bro?”

  Johnson laughed deeply from inside his great belly but a jolt of violent coughing and wheezing cut his merriment short. He cleared his throat, awkwardly glanced at Paul, and continued. “One pack of smokes and shitty lighter. One old ass phone.” He paused and looked at Paul with a smirk. “Look on the bright side, boy. You’ve been here long enough for a phone upgrade.” Johnson burst into his wheezy belly laugh again.

  Fucking ass hole.

  Johnson’s chair squeaked in protest as he leaned back. “Last but not least, one pocket sized edition of the Lord’s spoken word.” His expression turned serious. “You would do well to actually read that, boy.”

  Paul snatched the Bible from his outstretched hand. His father Tim had given him the book before he did his time with the same suggestion as Officer Dick but he decided to leave it behind. He figured he would need to follow the footsteps of Satan, rather than Jesus, if he were to survive this place.

  Officer Johnson’s bag was empty so Paul turned towards the door. “Hey, boy,” he called. Paul stopped but didn’t turn around. “You’ve got some fire in ya and that ain’t all bad but you’re gunna end up right back in here or worse if ya don’t straighten up.”

  Paul flipped Officer Dick the bird and walked out the door. He didn’t look back. The blinding South Texas sun, a stark contrast to the tomblike glow of the cell block, stopped him in his tracks. Paul had years to think about this moment but now that it was here, he was at a loss.

  What in the hell do I do now?

  He knew what he wanted to do, who he wanted to see, but dared not. He flipped out his old cell phone and pushed the power button, astounded to see it turning on.

  Fuckin’ Nokias are bullet proof.

  Paul’s jaw dropped when he saw the active service bars. Someone was paying his phone bill. He opened his contact list hoping for… He found it empty save one contact.

  Home.

  One of his parents, after deleting all of his other contacts, payed his phone bill in hopes he would reach out to them first. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. Instead, he called a cab. When the black and yellow arrived, an old Hispanic man greeted him suspiciously through a cracked window.

  “You got money?” He asked.

  “Yeah I have money,” Paul replied. The cabbie examined him for a few more moments before unlocking his back door.

  “Where you going big guy?”

  “I wish I knew,” Paul responded with arms crossed. The pair sat in silence for a few moments.

  “You just got out eh?”

  “Obviously.”

  “And now you don’t know where to go eh?”

  Paul nodded.

  “I know just the place man. It’s not far.”

  Paul leaned back in the uncomfortable plastic seat. “Sounds good. Let’s go.” This was not the feeling he had expected.

  He was out, alone, and going nowhere fast.

  The cabbie dropped him off a couple of miles from the prison in the parking lot of a place he knew and refused to take his money. “I know how it is. Just get back on your feet man,” he said before driving off. A small bell jingled as he entered the place. From the stale mop water to the dim lighting and cigarette smoke that seemed to permanently hang in the air, this seemed the perfect place for an ex-con to figure out his life. He sat down at the scratched old bar with his back to the door. Behind the counter was a figure as dingy as the dive itself. He was as tall as he was wide. A big Santa Clause beard, stained yellow with drink, hung down to his massive waist line. He squinted his eyes and leaned forward. “Names Old Joe. What’ll ya have son?”

  “Just a beer,” Paul said, sitting down.

  Joe leaned one elbow on the bar and raised a curious eyebrow. “Just a beer huh?”

  Paul nodded.

  “Alright son. Just a beer, coming right up.”

  The old man waddled over to the tap, pulled out a questionably clean glass, and tipped as he filled, leaving just the right amount of head at the top. The cold suds tasted like manna from heaven. “Holy shit,” Paul laughed giddily. “That’s a good fucking beer, Joe.” Both men chuckled heartily before Joe walked away to help another customer, a rough looking man who had just sat down. Paul glanced around the room at nothing in particular. Classic songs rocked lightly from an old juke box in the corner of the room. A dark figure caught his eye from a table in the back.

  When Paul saw her, he had to double take. Through his big black framed glasses, he saw a tall voluptuous brunette, sitting alone and wearing a red dress two sizes too small. She met his eyes boldly and leaned forward, her dark curls spilling over her massive cleavage. She licked her ruby red lips slowly.

  She wouldn’t act that way, he thought. The woman curled a finger at Paul, beckoning him to come join her.

  But this one will do.

  Joe slid a fresh beer down the counter towards him. “Careful son. She’ll eat you up and spit you out.”

  Paul grinned, neve
r taking his eyes off of the woman. “I think I’m going to need two shots of Patron to go with that beer Joe.”

  He heard the big man chuckle. A moment later, there was a clink of glass on the worn wooden bar as the old man put down the shots. “Go get ‘er kid.”

  Paul picked up the shots with one hand and his beer with the other. As he walked towards the mysterious thirty something, she opened her legs showing him everything in between her short red dress. He set the glasses down at her table and took a seat. An expensive diamond necklace hung between her generous breasts. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

  “Danielle.” The tall brunette giggled and placed a soft hand on his wrist. “And yours?”

  “Paul Slaughter.”

  “Paul Slaughter,” she repeated slowly. “You’re quite a handsome man, Mr. Slaughter.”

  She smiled and ran her soft palm along his arm, chest, and shoulders before settling on his beard, admiring the small twists of grey intertwined in the sea of black. When she brought her left hand to her chest, Paul saw a tan line where her wedding ring, a big one by the looks of it, should have been. Suddenly, he knew what this was. By the way she smiled at him, she did as well. Maybe that explained why she was in a dive like this in the middle of the afternoon.

  He turned back to Joe with a smile on his face.

  Danielle tilted his chin back towards her with a delicate finger. She raised the shot he brought her. “Time to loosen up big boy.” She smiled and downed the tequila without a flinch. She slid closer, moving a hand up his jean leg. Her large breasts brushed against his shoulder. Her perfume enveloped him. She kissed him on the cheek and whispered, “I’m going to have some fun with you.” Paul blushed.

  An old country song Paul remembered from the days he spent with his brothers at his Grandparent’s Feed Store came on the juke box. “You like to dance?” Danielle asked, her eyes full of mischief.

  “Actually…”

  She didn’t wait for Paul to finish, grabbing him by the hand. “Come on!” And before he knew it, the next song was on and the next one after that. Paul found his long lost rhythm, something tequila helped many a person do. He dipped her at the end of the song and laughed out loud.

  “I haven’t laughed in years…” Paul said.

  Danielle kissed him. Long and unapologetically. Paul still didn’t know what he was going to do with his life but this was a good start. They danced and danced into the night. People from all walks of life filled the place. There was a fat man in a business suit doing his best to impress a horribly ugly woman at the bar and some kids who looked like they got in the place with a fake I.D.s There were construction workers, normal folks, and rough looking cowboys.

  “One more song,” Danielle pleaded. “Then I’m taking you home.” Paul nodded but kept his eyes on one of the cowboys, the ugliest and drunkest of the bunch, because he was heading their way.

  “Hayyy….” The man slurred his words. “I wannnaa to dance with the red lady.”

  “Hayyy…. Fuck you,” Paul replied.

  “Get outta my way!” The drunk cowboy laid a dirty hand on Danielle’s shoulder and spun her around.

  Lightning fast, Paul slammed a right into the man’s pearl snap shirt. The blow doubled him over but didn’t knock him down. “Show some respect,” Paul demanded as stood over the drunk.

  “Hey!” Someone yelled. Chairs scrapped as the table full of cowboys emptied out.

  “Paul!” Danielle called. He held her behind him.

  They stood in a semi-circle around Paul. One had his belt off and swung it around, the giant belt buckle looking like a medieval mace. The man Paul punched was back on his feet. “What in the hell do you think yer doin’ boy?”

  A deathly still hung over the bar. The old jukebox played All My Exes Live in Texas. Paul, unsure of what to do, hesitated. He narrowed his eyes and growled, “I just got out! I meet this beautiful woman who wants to fuck me and you ass holes are going to try to ruin it. Well…” He looked from man to man, determining which one was the most dangerous. The drunk one was a savage beast but the big one up front in the black cowboy hat was the one he needed to worry about.

  Paul snatched a beer bottle and smashed it against a table. The shards were still flying through the air when he stabbed the big one. The man fell away with green glass jutting out of his shoulder, blood flowing in spurts. Paul barreled his shoulder into one drunk just as the man pulled a gun. He grunted in surprise when his pistol flew out of sight. By now, everyone in the bar who had a weapon was pulling it, including Joe the bartender with his hidden shotgun.

  With initiative on his side and rage in his heart, Paul beat them to it. He had the drunk’s Glock in his hand and pointed it around.

  “You come after me and I’ll burn ya’ll to the fuckin’ ground.” Paul grabbed the nearest cowboy by the back of his pearl snap and used him as a shield. He called to Danielle. “It’s time to go sweetheart.” Nervous heals clicked against the floor as Danielle hustled to her new man.

  “Come on you piece of shit,” Paul commanded, roughly pulling the cowboy in the direction of the door.

  “You’re making a big mistake,” the man said.

  Paul shook him silent. “Shut the fuck up!” When they shuffled close enough to the door, Danielle opened it with a shaking hand. The bell jingled merrily as they passed underneath. “All of you stay inside until we are gone.”

  “You son of a bitch!” Someone called after Paul.

  “Do as he says,” the cowboy commanded. Paul half dragged the man out the door with the pistol jammed into his lower back. Paul bundled up his shirt, pulling it painfully tight, spreading the man’s arms awkwardly outward. “Which one is yours Danielle?” She pointed at an expensive black Cadillac.

  Paul’s blood was boiling. “How about I just end it now you son of a bitch?” He pushed the cowboy away but kept his Glock trained on his face as slid into the driver’s seat.

  Danielle tossed Paul the keys. The Escalade roared to life. He slammed the truck into drive and floored it but swung the wheel close enough to smash the cowboy with his open door. He smiled when he heard the clunk. Tires skid as he blasted onto the street. He was well out of range of the cowboys by the time they came scrambling out after them.

  Paul laughed uncontrollably as he hit the highway. Satisfied there was no pursuit, Paul wiped the Glock clean and pitched it out the window. He looked over to see Danielle flush across her cheeks with a hand on her chest. “You are so insane Paul Slaughter!” She screamed and leaned close to his ear. “We’re going to my place NOW.” Danielle opened her thighs and ran a hand between her legs as she fondled Paul with her other. He pulled her close, an easy task for his strong arms, and smiled.

  Paul pulled out the last of his years-old jail house cigarettes and threw the empty pack carelessly at the trash can. It bounced off the rim and he left it on the floor. He glanced over his shoulder at Danielle, sprawled out on the bed, open mouthed and passed out. The sliding glass made a whoosh as he walked out to the tiny balcony of her downtown apartment.

  Paul was out of prison and Danielle was his. Even with the hidden wedding ring tan line, he knew she would be his as long as he desired it. One person he could trust, one person he could use, to get back on his feet and that’s a lot more than he had walking out of Bexar County. A light breeze cooled his shirtless body as he lit the cigarette. It was a beautiful night. The cicadas were singing. The leaves of a big oak tree gently danced with each gust of wind. The noise of the city honked and revved and sirened softly, barely audible. Paul thought of home and the single contact on his phone but pushed those memories aside. That was long ago. A different life. It could never be that way again. Not after what had happened. Not after what he did. He leaned against the railing. The siren of a distant police cruiser called into the night.

  Another one?

  Oh well, this is Downtown San Antonio after all. Home of the upper crust and the up-and-comers.

  Paul took a long drag and gla
nced at the pool in the courtyard below. The water rippled peacefully, reflecting the lights of the city. He couldn’t help but wonder who the police were after and if he knew them. He walked back inside and saw Danielle’s sleepy face illuminated by the glow of her phone.

  “What’s wrong?” Paul asked.

  “You fucked me unconscious stud.” She looked at him with a shit eating grin. “I shouldn’t have been out this long. Stupid. Stupid.”

  “Twice. I fucked you twice,” Paul corrected before jumped into bed with her, kissing her neck playfully.

  “Stop it! I mean it Paul, stop it!” She held up the phone for him to see.

  “32 missed calls. What the fuck?” Paul said.

  “He probably thinks I’m dead in a car wreck somewhere or,” she looked at him and grinned again, “out getting fucked unconscious. I have to go!” She jumped out of bed, dragging together her scattered clothes.

  Paul sighed and pulled his feet off the bed. Her naked body was exceptional for a woman her age, exceptional for a woman of any age really, but when they made love, he only saw her face. Always her face.

  He swung an arm around her stomach and pulled her back to bed. She squealed with delight as he straddled her, pinning her arms. “But first, I’m going to have you again.”

  Her Cadillac roared to life on the first crank. “I’ll be waiting to get you alone again,” Paul smiled, resting his right hand on her thigh.

  She laughed and pushed him away. “Slow down there cowboy! You’ll have me soon enough. I can’t believe you convinced me to drive me home. You’re so crazy Paul!”

  Paul leaned over and kissed her hard before putting the truck into drive, pulling out of the gated parking lot, and heading past the enormous downtown buildings. There were a lot of cars and people out of for this time of night even though all the bars closed hours ago. He saw one man passed out on the sidewalk and even saw a few people running along the side of the road. Running FAST.