“And she literally didn’t care?” Riley inquired. Knowing people desperate for cash was one thing, but knowing those who actually had something valuable to offer in exchange was another and really saved their bacon in this case.
“She just said no drug labs or Johns coming at all hours.”
Riley opened the trunk of the gold sedan to a terrible shriek. He slammed it back closed. “Let’s try this again. Remember what I said about being quiet or else?” He spoke to the closed trunk and it responded as inanimate objects often do. Its occupant, a 14 year-old young lady did however agree not to scream if Smith removed the hood from her head.
Riley and young Natalie emerged through the sliding door from the alley and the engine of the Camaro rumbled as it left. Riley held his family jewels tenderly.
“What happened to you?” Rita wondered.
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Riley groaned.
“Mmph MMPH mmphmpher,” The now gagged Natalie managed to mumble.
“Okay, let me guess. Smith had you untie her legs? So she could walk in?”
“He didn’t like the symbolism of me carrying her across the threshold.”
“Well he was fuckin A right on there. I mighta shotchya for pullin some shit like that.” Natalie did the universal “I have to pee” dance and whined.
“Fuck,” Riley complained.
“That’s right. And we’ll have to feed her too! dumbass” She whispered the last word.
“There were rice krispies in the trunk and I think maybe even a caprisun or two.” Rita shot him a look.
“But she had the fucking hood on…” He remembered. Rita raised an eyebrow.
“Okay well you take her to the bathroom and I’ll fix some ants on a log for her.”
“You do that,” Rita commanded then thought, God I hope this wasn’t a mistake
Sheila unplugged Mark’s headphones. “What are you listening to?” The phone answered with its tiny speaker:
Still smokin’ on some ‘dro/ duckin the popo/ sippin’ on some merlot/ kicking in yo do’/ comin in and takin alla yo hoes
“Wow, Mark. I always thought you listened to garbage music, but this…this is a new low.”
“Wow miss critical. Hold up this next bit is my favorite part, just give it a chance, please?”
“Fine. But after that you listen to one of my songs!”
“Dealio. Now listen,” he turned the music back up.
…people feelings get hurt/ when they figure out what I’m worth/ more than you could imagine/ Bill Gates whats happenin/ when i see you lets get a pound of purp and get higher than Aladdin/ call up some bitches/ hit a couple switches/ then write an $8 million check and send it over to Chris Bridges/ I spend it all on cars/ get a lifetime supply of cigars/ or rent out a spaceship and spend it all on Mars–
Sheila cut off the song and said, well I guess it’s okaaay but listen to this!
Well the truth well it hurts to say I’m gonna pack up my bags and i’m gonna go away I’m gon split I can’t stand it I’m gonna give it up and quit ain’t never coming back Girl but before I get to goin I got to say I know you used to love me but that was yesterday…
“What…are you trying to say something with this song choice?” Sheila gave him a look saying she wouldn’t dignify that question with an answer.
Whoa lover, lover lover you don’t treat me no good no more
Mark grabbed the cigarette out of Sheila’s mouth, took a drag and French inhaled it, and stuffed it out in the glass ashtray on top of the speaker.
Un elefante balanceabe ya sobre la tela de una arana y como veia no se caia va a llamar otro elefantes
Turns of the calendar page earlier, Ben was on the sideline of his daughter’s soccer game. The sun was shining weather was sweet he had brought orange slices and Graham crackers for the girls at halftime. Linda was one of the quicker girls on the field but her best asset was her powerful leg. As a defender she could set up her forwards with one of her booming kicks at any moment. She was one of the gals who is fast enough that she could both press up to force an offsides penalty and then even if she got beat by the through-ball she could catch up in time to save the goal. Normally Cassandra didn’t bother him when they were both present at the games however this time he felt her signature tap on his left shoulder. their divorce hadn’t been pretty and he’d just as soon never talk to her again. “Benjamin.”
“What is it?” He said tersely, but in his mind he pictured her giving him head in his Jeep in the parking lot. The thought caught him by surprise and he tried to collect himself. He was grateful that she hadn’t turned state’s witness on him like she had threatened to do once or twice in the heat of passion.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry about… about what happened to Dana.” Ben hadn’t gotten laid since his late fiancée had died a month earlier.
“Thanks,” Ben replied more gently. . . 15 minutes later, Ben zipped his slacks back up and Cassandra wiped her mouth, tonguing her lips. She promised him if there was a next time, which there wouldn’t be, he’d have to satisfy her needs as well.
Little Linda jogged over to Ben on the east sideline, her somewhat oversized red jersey and shorts flapping in the wind. “Daddy! Did you see it? Hunter got two of the goals!” Hunter was Linda’s bestie.
“Yeah, baby, you ladies were great.” Linda didn’t really understand what the loss of Dana had done to her father, but she tried to be considerate and especially helpful around the house where she could be. They got in the car and Ben stared at the photo of Dana he had taped to the dash. He began to tear up, but promptly started the gas engine, a rarity these days, and headed for the parkway.
“Dad?” Linda offered. “Were you talking to Cassandra?”
“What? Who?” He played possum.
“Dad,” she continued, “I recommend you don’t get involved with that woman.”
He noticed her register was elevated—a nine year old doesn’t use multi-syllable words very often.
“I’m serious. She hurt you once and you don’t need that right now.”
“Okay. You’re right. You’re usually right, honey.”
“I’m always right,” she giggled.