“You know how it is Bran, fucking Charlie.” He wipes at his nose as blood drops onto his chest.
Tiff takes her shirt off and gives it to him without hesitation. Now that is love, because the girl is anal about her clothes. She shops for a living. “Why in the hell did you fake a knockout and let that fungus breath have one up on you? How much does Charlie owe this time?” She questions him.
“Our wonderful step-monster is in with the Garretti brothers for oh about fifty G’s, “Kline drops his bomb on us.
“What! Are you shitting me?” her mouth hangs open.
Kline snorts and shakes his head. “I shit you not; it doesn’t stink in here does it?”
“You know how he is Tiff,” I warn her nicely to back off. Kline can go from hero to asshole in two seconds when he’s coming down from a loss.
I can see a tight 'O' formed on her lips and a crease of worry lining her forehead. She knows just as well as I do that this means only one of two things. One, my brother is going to be getting his ass beat to foot the bill, or two the Garretti brother’s will take it out on one of us if Charlie doesn’t pay up. If Kline doesn’t do what they want. The Garretti brothers run the Mob scene in Las Vegas—meaning they are not good company to keep, especially if you are on their bad side.
“Don’t look at me like that, both of you. What do you want me to do? Let one of those cock suckers hurt you or mom?”
“No Kline, I want Charlie to be a man, and take responsibility for his own shit for once in his life. What if you get hurt Kline, then what?”
“Alright that’s enough you two; this isn’t going to get solved right now. Bran you need to go home and go to bed. You’ve been drinking way too much. You’re a lightweight. Kline, baby your face could use some ice.” Tiffany is holding her hands up trying to play peace keeper. She looks comical in her demi bra and jeans, with a serious scowl on her face.
Against my better judgment I have them drop me off at my mom and Charlie’s place. It was either come here, or go to the apartment I share with my brother, and hear him and my best friend fuck all night. No thank you, I shudder at the thought. I would rather suck a big fat hairy toe. And trust me, I find feet to be disgusting.
I trudge slowly through the door already regretting my decision.
“Well look what the cat drug in. Debra, your super model has graced us with her presence.”
I’d love nothing more than to tell that fat bastard to eat a dick, but I’m not in the mood for his shit. Kline isn’t here to keep him from striking me, and open call with Lucky 7 is approaching. I don’t think they would want me with a black eye, although it might net me some sympathy.
"Hey baby, what brings you over here?” My mother gives me a weak smile. The years of being married to a man like Charlie have taken their toll on her. Her dark brown hair is streaked with gray and crow’s feet caress her tired eyes.
“Can’t a girl just want to see her mom every once in a while?”
“You look like you’ve had a good time tonight. Let me fix you a bite to eat. Yeah?”
“I think I’m just going to crash. I’ll see you in the morning.”
My mom gives me a peck on the cheek and a gentle squeeze. She is such a sweet woman; I don’t know what she’s ever seen in Charlie. I’ll give him one thing though, at least he is consistent. You always know what you see is exactly what you get from him.
I fall asleep drunk on the way Parker Garrett was staring at me, well maybe not me, but it sure felt like we shared a moment back there.
**
When I wake up I feel disoriented vaguely trying to recall the night before. My stomach is swirling and I have cotton mouth. I roll over and put my pillow over my face in an attempt to go back to sleep. Gross! The smell of Charlie’s cheap cigarettes fills the air. I remember where I am, at mom’s place. Photos of my childhood line the wall, reminding me of how fat I used to be, and of the girl I will never be again.
Ugh… now I have to pee and I can’t hold it. Suppose I’ll be getting up now. Glancing at the crooked clock hanging on the wall it’s nearly noon. Slow and steady I roll off the itchy couch, planting both feet firmly on the ground. Last time I got drunk, I rolled out of bed too quickly, and busted my nose on the floor. I don’t need a repeat of that.
After washing last night’s makeup off, I join my mom and Charlie in the kitchen. The sight of him in his wife beater and boxers is disgusting. I look at him sitting there with a cigarette hanging from his bottom lip. His beady eyes narrow in on me as I grab a cup of coffee. “I hear Kline got his ass beat last night.” He grunts.
“As if you don’t know already? You didn’t ask Kline to throw the fight for you?” I throw him an accusing glare. “You make me sick Charlie. One day my brother’s not going to be around to save your ass.”
“Yeah and one day I’m going to do something about that smart mouth of yours.” He grumbles something unintelligible under his breath, and resumes reading the sports section of his newspaper.
I’d like to wad his paper up and shove it down his fat throat.
“I don’t have to listen to this. Mom I’ll call you later this week.” I scoot my chair back and make my way to the living room to grab my purse.
“You don’t have to go; Charlie is just a big kidder. Tell her Charlie, you’re just teasing her.” She follows me to the door, but I know when to pick my battles with Charlie, and today isn’t the day.
I don’t wait for the door to hit my ass on the way out. She knows Charlie is a fuck-stick and he’s so not joking. For some reason she chooses to block out all of the years Charlie laid his hands on Kline and me growing up. And all of the times she lied to cover up the abuse, until my brother started training to fight. Then he was big and strong enough to take on Charlie. I walk to the end of the block missing my jeep.