He looked at the yard and nodded upon seeing it. “C’mon.”
“What are we doing?”
He grabbed me by the hand and took off walking up the sidewalk. “We’re going to go fuck in there.”
The thought excited me to no end. “Oh my God. Tell me they’re letting you use it for a night. Tell me you have a key.”
“Nope.”
I followed him onto the porch, and then looked up and down the block. “I don’t want to get in any trouble.”
He tried the door, and, as I could have already told him, it was locked. “Shit. I wish I had the key.”
“Yeah, me too,” I said.
He looked at me. “You do. I don’t.”
I shot him a look. “Huh?”
“The key’s in your pocket.”
I pulled the keys from my pocket. A pink leopard pattern key stood out from all the others. I’d never seen it before.”
I pushed the key into the lock, turned it, and then looked at him.
He pushed the door open. “I’ll be damned, it fit.”
The smell hit me instantly. The smell of new. The tile, carpet, and paint were all new. The home was filled with furniture, and there was artwork on all the walls.
Everything that was broken had been fixed. After admiring the gorgeous home and its furnishings, I turned to face him. “Adam. Someone lives here.”
He looked around. “Yeah. Looks like it, huh?”
“Let’s go.”
“Come here,” he said. “Let me show you something before we go. It’s the best part.”
“What?” I said.
“The garage,” he said.
Three-car garages might have excited men, but they didn’t excite me at all. With great reluctance, I followed him down the hallway and toward the garage.
He flipped the light switch at the end of the corridor. “Garage is on the other side of this door.”
I sighed and then rolled my eyes. “Woo. Hoo.”
He pushed the door open.
My car was in the garage, and another car was parked on the other side of it. I was confused. Like, really confused.
I looked at him. “That’s my car.”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“Parked beside their car.”
“No. That other one’s yours, too.”
Now, I was really, really confused.
“Adam…”
“That’s your car,” he said. “And, that other one is one I bought for you. I figured along with the new home, you’d want a new car.”
He smiled.
My head started spinning. My mouth went dry. He looked serious. I opened my mouth and tried to talk, but couldn’t. Not yet. I was still way too confused.
“Why. Uhhm…” I murmured.
He must have seen it in my eyes. Or maybe it was when my legs went out, and I stumbled into the wall behind me. Either way, he finally locked eyes with me and told me the truth.
“I bought the house. And no, you can’t ask how. But it’s ours, and it’s legal,” he said.
I was filled with so much emotion I was shaking uncontrollably.
“Ours?”
At least I thought that was what he said.
He reached for the bill of his hat and tugged on it a little. “Yeah. Ours.”
I nodded, but I didn’t understand.
“I think things should come in a particular order,” he said. “And so far, it’s going perfect.”
It could have been the weird helmet he made me wear. Or, the fact that I still had no idea what was going on. Or, that I was just that dumb at that moment in time.
I turned my palms up. “I don’t…”
“We met,” he said. “Then, we kissed. Then, we committed to a relationship. Then, we made love. Now? Now, we need to live together and make sure you don’t get sick of me. If you can stomach living with me, I suppose the next step will be getting married. But, for now…”
He shrugged. “Will you live with me?”
I wiped the tears from my cheek. “I’d live with you in a cardboard box,” I said. “Or under the freeway.”
“Too late,” he said with a smile. “I already bought this place.”
“So, it’s really yours?”
He shook his head. “No. It’s ours.”
It was too much. Comprehending living in such a place was impossible, but I tried. Regardless of my lack of ability to grasp what was happening, I knew one thing, and I knew it for sure.
I was done looking at the garage, and I didn’t give a shit about another car.
If the house was truly ours, there was one thing, and one thing only that mattered.
It needed to be christened.
And, it needed to be christened immediately.
While I looked out at the ocean.
Epilogue
Lex
I gazed out at the horizon. One thing about living in southern California was that all the views of the ocean were from facing west, allowing a perfect view of the sun setting on the sea.
And, it was about that time.
It seemed funny seeing him in swim trunks, but I was getting used to it. I liked it much better than the modified jeans he’d been wearing, that was for sure.
He took a few steps back. We were celebrating the removal of his cast, and much to everyone’s surprise, he didn’t limp. Despite the doctor’s claim that he’d never walk without a pronounced limp, Adam was proving them wrong.
He was that kind of person. Stubborn. Bull-headed. And, determined.
I liked those things about him.
“You sure you don’t want a beer?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “Not tonight.”
He glanced at the grille. Smoke was beginning to bellow out the sides. “Shit. Food’s ready.”
The only thing sexier than watching Adam cook was having him fuck me.
Getting both on the same night, at the same time, was a dream come true.
“Are you going to lay down?” he asked over his shoulder.
I took off my swimsuit, laid on the blanket he’d positioned beside the pool, and then waited while he took the food off the grille.
He took off his shorts, picked up a few small pieces of the grilled fruit, and then sat down beside me. As we sat side by side naked, he poked a piece of pineapple into my mouth. And then, a piece of mango.
He reached for the champagne.
I took a breath, held it for an instant, and then exhaled. “I don’t. I don’t feel like drinking.”
“We were going to have champagne,” he said, his voice conveying his disappointment.
“I’m sorry. Not tonight. Let’s just make love.”
He smiled. “Okay.”
He set the bottle aside.
He bit into a piece of grilled peach, and then leaned forward. I sank my teeth into it what protruded from his mouth, and we nibbled at it until our lips met. Then, he kissed me passionately. As I always did with Adam’s kisses, I allowed it to consume me.
In what seemed like an instant, the sun was setting. Purples, oranges and pinks were melting along the horizon.
“It’s time,” I said.
Naked, we turned toward the horizon and watched the sunset together while we ate fruit.
That night, as the sun set along the horizon, things were different between us.
And, on that night, the glow of orange across the water seemed to hang on for a little bit longer than normal. The pinks seemed more vibrant, too. In the few minutes before the sun disappeared completely, the sky seemed to illuminate with a colorful electricity.
It might have been the fall weather or the Sana Anna winds.
Or the few clouds that floated low in the sky.
It might have been the eyes that were viewing it, too. The changes that were taking place inside of me very well may have influenced my vision.
I had known for an hour.
But I wanted to wait for the perfect moment to tell Adam.
And, at th
at instant that the day turns into night, when the sky was aglow with the most beautiful of colors, I realized it was time.
I turned toward him. The sound of the ocean filled my left ear. I closed my eyes, and then opened them again.
“Adam,” I said. “I’ve got something to tell you.”
He looked at me and smiled. “Did you do your hair?”
“No.”
His eyes searched my face. “You look different.”
“I…”
He touched my cheek. “Change your makeup?”
I sighed. “No.”
“There’s something,” he said. “I’ll figure it out.
He knew me all too well.
I liked that about him, too.
I took a breath. “Adam.” I exhaled. “I’m pregnant.”
His eyes lit up. “We’re having a baby?”
I bit into my lower lip and nodded my head. “Yeah,” I said. “We are.”
The first time I’d seen him cry was the night we met.
On that night, the night of the electric sky, I saw him cry again.
A tear escaped him, but he didn’t bother wiping it. He was too busy sweeping me off my feet and walking toward the door.
“We’ve got to get dressed,” he said as the tear rolled down his cheek. “We can still make it to Lowes before they close.”
“What? Lowes?”
“I’ve got a nursery to build,” he said excitedly. “We can use the spare room right next to ours. It’ll be perfect. She can grow up watching the sunsets out the window--”
“She?” I asked.
He nodded eagerly. “It’s going to be a girl.”
I loved seeing his excitement. I feared much worse, but had hoped he’d have been as excited as me.
“A girl? Why do you say that?” I asked.
“I’ve got a feeling.” He lowered me to my feet and reached for the sliding door. “Wanna bet?”
“Sure,” I said through my tears. “Whoever’s wrong gets the wet spot for a year.”
He extended his hand.
And we made our bet.
Now, all we had to do was wait.
Dedication
To all my readers, this one is for you.
But, if your name is Shannon McFarland, or Alicia Krauss, thank you for keeping me laughing, even in times of distress.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, are coincidental.
RIGID 1stEdition Copyright © 2017 by Scott Hildreth
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author or publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use the material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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Chapter One Hundred Seventeen
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
Prologue
Handcuffed to the underside of a steel table and covered in a stranger’s blood wasn’t how I ever expected to spend a Saturday night, but it was the position I had somehow gotten myself into.
The events that got me there, however, were a blur.
A violent bloody blur that ended with one loud boom.
A single shot from a pistol released a bullet that tore through his flesh, pierced his skull, and killed him instantly.
I lifted my head from the cold surface of the table. My eyes aimlessly wandered around the empty room, struggling to adjust beyond the tears and confusion. I noticed cameras in the two corners of the ceiling across from me, and I was sure they were recording my every move.
The severity of what happened began to sink into my stomach like a heavy stone.
I lowered my head onto my one free arm, closed my eyes, and tried to remember exactly what happened. The scene played in my head like the trailer for a Hollywood movie, hitting only the highlights. Screaming. Blood. The sound of breaking bones. And then, a gunshot.
Bile rose in my throat. Upon reaching the back of my tongue, the vile substance caused my stomach to heave. Fearing I was going to vomit, I instinctively raised my hands to my mouth. Or, at least I tried. The metallic clank and a resistant jerk on my left hand stopped me short.
Once again, a reminder of what I had done.
The door unlocked, and then swung open. A man and a woman sauntered into the room.
“I’m Detective Jones,” the man said.
The woman sat down across from me. “You can call me Jacky.”
Jones methodically paced the floor behind her. Each time he passed the table, the smell of stale cigarette smoke followed him. The dark skin underneath his eyes combined with his gaunt cheeks and unkempt hair made it look like he hadn’t eaten or slept in a week.
He stopped pacing, turned to face me, and scratched his head feverishly with both hands. After a moment, he paused, and then met my gaze. His stare was intense, and his expression was one of disbelief.
My eyes fell to the table.
“Are you paying attention, Miss. West?”
I looked up. “Uh huh.”
I didn’t belong there. It shouldn’t have never happened, but it did. I was sure of it. I heard the boom, and I saw the blood. I shook my head, hoping to rid my mind of my spotty recollection of what had transpired.
He shook his head lightly and shot me a condescending look. “You look like shit.”
“I feel…I uhhm. I think I’m going to be sick,” I murmured.
“I’d feel sick, too. I mean, shit, you just killed a guy. Blew his fucking head all over La Quinta Ave. We picked up the pieces and put ‘em in a little plastic bag.” He cocked an eyebrow. “How’s that make you feel, being a murderer?”
My head began to spin. I struggled to recall exactly what happened, but could only resurrect the horrific portions that came in unwelcomed flashes of memory.
Jones clasped the end of the table in his hands, leaned down, and cleared his throat. “So, you pointed the gun at him, and then shouted for him to stop. You told the patrol officer on the scene that you gave that command. Stop, or I’ll shoot.”
“Uhhm…” I tried to swallow, but my dry throat prevented it. “I don’t. He was uhhm…”
“Stop or I’ll shoot. That’s what you said, right?”
“It was…”
“Stop or I’ll shoot. You said that. Stop or I’ll shoot. What were you prepared to do if he didn’t stop, Miss West?”
Tears rolled down my cheeks. “He was…”
He slapped the table with his hand. “Stop or I’ll shoot,” he shouted. “You said that, right?”
I closed my eyes.
It wasn’t what I’d said. I didn’t say anything. Not that I could remember, anyway. I simply pulled the trigger.
“And then, when he didn’t, you shot him? In the face, I might add.”
I didn’t remember shooting him in the face. I didn’t remember shooting him at all. The last thing I could remember was yelling at him. I wanted him to stop. I needed him to stop.
But, he didn’t.
“I uhhm. I think I yelled at him. I don’t know,” I muttered. “I’m not sure what I. I don’t know.”
“Stop, or I’ll shoot.” His eyebrows raised slightly. “And then you shot him in the face.”
“I don’t.” I lowered my head onto the table. The more I thought about it, the more the memories became scrambled. I looked up. “I don’t remember doing that.�
�
He pushed himself away from the table and shot me a look. “Are you suggesting that someone else shot him?”
“I don’t…”
“Your fingerprints are all over the gun, Miss West. I’d love to hear a different version of the story, though.” He chuckled, and then looked at Jacky. “How about you, Jacky? You want to hear how someone walked up, took the gun from her hand, shot the guy, wiped off his prints, put the gun back in her hand, and then ran away?”
Jacky extended her left arm, a silent suggestion for Jones to back away from the table. When he complied, she turned to face me and smiled. “Do you want something to drink, hun? You don’t look like you’re feeling well.”
“I uhhm. I’d like a Sprite. Or a 7-Up. Can I have one of those?”
“Sure,” she said with a nod. “I’ll be right back.”
She stood, looked at Jones, and then left the room. Jones paced for a moment, and then stopped directly across from me. His tired eyes met mine.
“That gun you shot him with is a pretty unique piece. Ruger SP-101. Five-shot .357 magnum with a 2” barrel. With that short barrel, they kick like a fuckin mule, huh?”
I glanced at my right hand. Amidst the dried blood, a bruise was clearly visible on my wrist. As I gazed at the discolored skin, I remembered pulling the trigger, and how much the pistol’s recoil hurt.
I nodded. “Uh huh.”
“So, do you remember shooting him now?”
I didn’t remember shooting him, I only remembered the boom and the blinding flash of light.
I looked at him. My eyes felt itchy. “I uhhm.”
The door opened, and Jacky walked in. After sitting down across from me, she poured some soda in a cup and slid it across the table. “Have a drink, it’ll make you feel better.”
Jones tossed a yellow notepad and a pen beside me. “While you’re sipping that soda, why don’t you write down what happened? Every detail. How you told him to stop, and then how you shot him. I’d get him to write it down, but he’s in the morgue. His family’s going to be planning his funeral, Miss. West. You telling the truth will help them put this to rest. That makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Filthy F*ckers: The Complete Series Box Set Page 57