Repent (The Disciples 3)

“Yeah.” I turn to the blonde who has decided to try to get me to fuck her. It’s dark in here, so I can’t see what she looks like, but a wet hole is a wet hole.

I lean forward to gage her age, but again, with the smoke and bad lighting, even the ugliest can be beautiful. Doesn’t matter. My cock’s not digging her. It seems to have betrayed me tonight.

She leans in close to whisper something. It’s loud as fuck in here, so I motion that I can’t hear. She yells, “I live down the street if you need a place to crash,” causing three Disciples to turn and look at us, including Axel who raises a dark brow and turns back to the stripper who’s rubbing her tits on him.

I grin at them. It’s pathetic that I sit here in my dress slacks, black dress shoes that I got married in, and my cut.

Christ, all I wanna do is pass out. Maybe then I’ll stop hearing her words and seeing her face. I inhale and close my eyes. After I left her in the suite, I came here knowing that I would find Axel. I need him right now since I can’t be trusted to make good decisions.

“Can I have one?” The blonde’s words make me open my eyes. Considering my cigarette has burned out, I wonder if I might have fallen asleep for a moment.

I nod yes. Glancing around me, it’s clear the place has thinned out, and I can now see that it looks the same. Walls covered in pictures of Harleys and old-time bikers. Bar signs that blink with dead lights. The old jukebox still filled with heavy metal eighties crap.

Marty decided long ago he’d rather pay the fines than own a bar where you can’t drink and smoke. I fucking love Vegas.

I look over her shoulder at Axel, wondering if we have any more cocaine.

“I need to take a piss,” I mumble to the blonde.

“Can I help?” she purrs and smiles. Her teeth are yellow.

“No.” I pull myself off the barstool and stumble a little toward Axel. “Tell me we’re not out.”

He looks over at me, and then like the dick he is, he turns and says, “No more.” Like he’s my father or some kind of big brother, he dismisses me and jerks the dark-haired stripper’s head back to kiss her.

“Asshole,” I say as I stumble back to my barstool.

“Hey, I thought you had to drain your weasel?” The blonde moves in closer and giggles.

“What? Whatever,” I say, looking up at Marty as he sets down two more shots of Wild Turkey.

“You okay?” His old eyes show concern as they dart from me to her. For a second, I almost beg him to help me… save me from myself. Instead, I take the shot, not even looking at the blonde.

“I couldn’t be better. I have…” It dawns on my fucked-up brain that I have forgotten the blonde’s name again.

“What’s your name again, baby?” It feels like I swallowed a shot of acid instead of Wild Turkey. It burns my tongue.

“Barbie.” She laughs like I’m so hilarious. If anything, she should be insulted. “That’s the fourth time I’ve told you, silly.”

I almost grab her hair and tell her it doesn’t matter how many times she tells me. I’ll never hear anything but one name for as long as I live. Because I. Don’t. Care.

“Hey,” Axel yells at me. He must see I’m getting ready to go off and now decides to step in. Whatever. I feel like fucking punching him. I’ll lay him out because if I don’t…

“You need to go back to the hotel.” His stupid pretty boy face swims before me as I start to laugh.

“Fuck you, Axel,” I snarl into my beer. It’s got to be almost closing time, but I remember I’m in Vegas—is there even a closing time? The music is still going and the lights aren’t on, so I guess I should have another round, take the fucking blonde up on her offer, and fuck her.

I’ll do the one thing that will finally be the ruin of us.

Why the fuck not? Fuck another slut. Do what she thinks I do every single day.

It’s sad, almost tragic—I could fuck a hundred women and they would mean nothing. In her mind though, it means everything. In her mind that would be it.

She’s never gotten over the Crystal thing and I was a fucking kid. I wanted to give her everything, literally everything, and she won’t even try. Can’t even see what she’s throwing away.

All she can do is keep ripping my heart out. Why did she even marry me? She doesn’t want anything that I want. She’s like a chameleon—always changing to make the person she’s around like her.

All but me. I see her. And she reaches in and takes my very soul and rips it out.