the dance party

Reap what you sow, the bastards said. I need more drink, hard drink to get me through this disco nonsense. What is it your playing? Well, songs I never goddamn heard before and they're up at dancing. At this hour? What are the bongos doing in my brain? They beat me up like I've never seen before. Jumping and raving at noise that is made through nothing. Just thought. SWINE! I curse the day I set foot in this jungle of depraved beasts, the maniacs and the mantras. The silly waddle and the circus drones. Where does it all start? Hell, where does it end up? HELL, what am I doing here anyways? I pissed on the floor and made a puddle. Then I tipped toed around it and let the party people reek their havoc. Oh how they danced. The songs. The moment. Fuck the moment and fuck this song nonsense. I dribble harder than this band and I don't sit down when I shit, I squat. But you wouldn't know that unless someone told you. Someone tipped you off, the quarters in the jukebox are futile. I can't believe she cocooned me in some web of deceit and merry mischief. Bask ye all in the glorious fight of the self versus the id. The Freud fuckers and the Jung jumpers. The Dostoevsky and the Howl. Oh retched beat generation with their rancid smells and their porcupine limps. Slobbering on what was once reliable news sources. And there they dance. Like it's nothing to them.  My shirt ripped halfway through and she noticed, she banged the table and I let out a screech and bellow. My heart dropped into it's cockles and I found myself  denounced at the dinner table, asking Ma to pass the cheese after her factory laid her off. And this was just one night!?

doomed

Holy godforsaken cat pussy we need to get out of here gawdammit. The beasts, the sauvages roam the streets looking for fresh meat every five minutes. I've completely gone egads man. Shit is literally being thrown at us from the balconies oh high and my footing is directing itself. The poor bastard beside me is crawling on the ground, twisting and curving, slithering like some amphibian beast. Get up you poor fool, I say. He only hisses and tries to grab my denim jacket, fucking who wears denim anymore. I guess me, this poor hypocritical pestilence. Run god, let me run and I swear I'll stop fucking. I'll just stop fucking. No more fucking, just get me out of here alive. Celibacy is the only worthwhile thing I can give you and it makes me fear. But shit and giant amphibians make me fear and sorrow. I'm hung like Pinocchio after his polygraph session with the woodpecker. How long? I dare count. Madness tonight, and in the day you will stare. Utter voluptuous manic madness. I find shelter, but it's not safe. The walls are caving in. I'm doomed. Doomed I say. Did you hear me!?

receipt

the receipt is just like a condom, or no, not a condom, like a phone number, or a condom, depending on how it was placed and where. it's a flirting mechanism. you know what i mean, hell, i didn't until i started thinking about it. she was beautiful and someone said something silly so i counteracted them and got a laugh. "do you want your receipt" is what she was going to say until i practically begged it from her, because, you see, handed by hand, it could be a phone number or her employee number or the time when you were in the moment of a moment. the easy ones, the receipt givers that would love to go hanky panky, rather than a hand to hand phone number. they put the receipt in the bag, ya know, in the sack. what happens in the sack? we all know. you roll around and kiss and touch and it's in the bag, just in case you change your mind.

i'm still not sure if i want the receipt by hand or in the bag. oh! what an existential flaw.

playwrite (ANEW)

“Oh, sorry. My name is Mik. My friends called me Mike. I have no friends.”

“That's too bad to hear Mik. I, on the other hand, have many friends, but also many enemies. They take my good deeds and turn them into rubbish, claiming my good fortune towards them as hostile. I don't know how much more stress I can absorb from it.”

“You have such grand pronunciation. You must have gone to the gymnasium haven't you?”

“Aw, my dubious wit amazes even I. You are a smart man, Mik, maybe too smart for your own good. I like that in a man though. A sense of danger, yet meek and mild. Like a tiny mouse who yearns to be a rat.”

“I can assure you I am no rat dear. I work very hard for my knowledge. I read a paragraph everyday and I write three once a month. Some would call me a scholar, if I wasn't so pre-occupied with my work,” Mik looked at Sasha, hoping for an admiring response in her eye.

Sasha looked down at her hands. That diamond did sparkle, it was no joke. But, what did it mean? What did that tiny little stone mean to such a versatile woman, one who would judge another so vicariously about their own presentation. She saw Mik before on the elevator but never dared speak to him. She was married at the time but now that she was closing on a hefty divorce, her inhibitions (and her libido) were on the prowl.

"LewdLove" scene, GEORGE/DARREN

So whatever happened to George anyways when Caroline died? There must have been a will or decinding factor on the house they shared. A lawyer approached him and had to talk to George about the “remainder” of funds. Darren was there too, to sign the papers and each man received 100,000, George owtned the property to the house and Darren would be in charge of the Mercedes Benz (which he sold shortly after the meeting). Hell, George and Darren hadn't spoke in over 2 years and now both meet again in a place they would rather not. Signing a will. Her life. What she owed to this world. Both men took it gracefully at the signing and George suggested that they go back to the home and have a drink of sorts. Darren agreed. Darren go to the house first, driving the Mercedes. George would arrive 10 minutes later with a bottle of bourbon. A 26r. Which means, approximately 26 shots in one bottle. Darren thought that would be too much but they decided that it was a fair amount for the night. They were both staying at the home til morning. It was a goddamn Friday anyways, who cared about patients on Monday morning. This was before Darren met Sarah. So both men hugged and opened the door. George started crying and so did Darren and they we sitting on the sofa (the one Norm put his life on) and they just held each other crying and sobbing and bawling their eyes out. It took about 15 minutes to calm them down and it was definitely a hearty 15 minutes. They rubbed the tears of their eyes gently and George suggested they open the bourbon. Wild Turkey was the choice and both men had glasses full of ice. “You think that's gonna be enough,” asked Darren, “this could go on all night.” George said he was sure, that “we'd be sick after this bottle was finished,” and Darren smirked a little smirk, assured. They didn't measure they just poured that tasty bourbon, filling up their rock glasses with little chips of frozen water. No one seemed to mention Dave's role in the will and there wasn't one mention of him at all. Darren found this strange, especially after his second drink, because Dave was her flesh and blood as well. He thought and came to the assumption that Caroline figured that Dave would spend the entire amount of his settlement on hookers and drugs, and Darren didn't judge her opinion. She was right. The men sat down in front of the television and relaxed. They were both nursing their second drink, the bottle ¾ full still and no one was drunk enough to break the silence. Then there was the shot time. George motioned Darren to come to the kitchen and Darren walked over, with a glass of ice chips in his hand. The bottle was poured and the shots lit up to the tip and there they saluted and drank that yummy, scrumptious little bourbon. Darren yelled into the air, a war cry, and George frowned at the pure essence of the strong drink. “Wowsa.” George said,”Your mother would have loved this.” He started to tear up again and looked at the bottle, it was half full still. “Fuck man, your mom was the best. You never got to see her in her prime, but she had it all. The body, the looks, the fucking way she used to talk to me. She would know what buttons to push and how and I would never lust for any other woman ever again. She had it all.” “I know Dad, I know” Darren saying dad was kind of awkward because he wasn't really EXACTLY his dad, but a step father. He didn't hang around George enough to say dad and usually, at this mother's request, he would just call him George. And it worked, ever since they met, it was formal and professional. George was no prankster (unless you count tickling toes in the morning as prankish) and he held himself, and his business together well. While Norm lived off my mother, George would demand equal sharings on anything they would have to choose in life. Whether it be a car, or a trip or anything in the fridge, and on so forth. But George never made decisions about Darren. Darren was only Carolines foredoing and she ensured that by actually telling George. “We can settle on most cases, babe, but let my son into my soul and I won't ask you for a single thing.” So, George played that role and he played it very carefully because he didn't know exactly how to approach Darren as a genius but more as a friend. A friend they both really needed in life and that would progress both men into a sacred bond as family. So there was it. The shot glass full and the men cheers again and teeter totter time approaches and its already 2 am, but fuck it it's Friday goddamn. This is when the truth speaks.. And Darren ran to the bathroom to puke. He ate Atlantic Salmon that day, with a side of broccoli and onions, with a glaze of seafood brand seafood sauce. It was tasty going in, and somewhat tasty flowing out of his mouth and out of his nose. Darren finished puking and took a Kleenex and blew his nose in it. Chunks of pink salmon, green blobs of broccoli. The smell would last for hours. Really think about it now, smelling fish and brocoli all day, and falling asleep and waking up and so on and so forth. Darren returned from the toilet and asked George how much he drank. George shook his head and lifted up an empty bottle of bourbon. “But that was between two of us, right,” Darren asked and George shook his head. “Hell, all I had was about 10 shots all togther, those 16 were all up to you. Fuck, Darren thought, that was the most amount of alcohol thzt he had EVER. Even through school, he never drank THAT much. And George laughed as he looked in the toilet. “What the fuck you eat today? Salmon?” George continued laughing. Darren shrugged and all he could smell was salmon, flown in from god knows where, gently marinated and pan seared. Well, at least Darren didn't have to worry about calories. So, at 3am, both men took to the couch and Darren's limp head would nestle on George's left shoulder and George's head would fall to his right side. The men slept like this for 10 hours, George waking up first. “Rise and shine princess,” George laughed , tugging at Darren's shirt. Darren woke up and didn't even know where the hell he was. “George?” “Yeah, brother” “Is this heaven?” “No, Darren” “Fuck, George, this feels like fucking hell” “And you'll be feeling that way all day.” George began scrambling some eggs and spinach and Darren didn't know what the hell to think about. There was one last shotglass on the table and it was full to the brim. Darren thought and stared at this shot glass, this poison that destroyed him all last night, and his dad all his life. He carefully picked up the shot glass, not to spill any, and he made a quiet toast “to his mum” and drank the hair of the dog who bit him. He inhaled the fire, layed back on the couch and would say only one thing in the utter silence that was the house, “Stride on motherfucker, stride on.”

"Lewd Love" scene, MEETING JOHN

Johnathon was Kelly's friend who suggested the condo in LA. He had everything set up for her, because, Johnathon had made it already. He was officially almost kind of a SAG member, give or take. “Hunny, it's so nice to see you” John said. Kelly, still shaking, her legs twitching. “Baby, I looooove this place, you were dead on” Brett just sat there in the tub looking at the two as they hugged each other. “John, this is Brett Golding. Brett this is Jonathan Seyski” Brett gave an exhausted wave of his hand and got out of the hot tub. “My god, he's big. You better keep a chain on him or I might have to get a little libido savage on livin la vida loca” John and Kelly laughed. Brett just sat there, puzzled. “Babe, it's okay. John's gay, well bisexual I guess. We did have sex that one time when I was really drunk at his aunt's wake and things led to the coatroom and yada yada. He's not a threat to you babe, unless, ya know, you wanna try something new.” Kelly explained. “No, it's fine. I'm satisfied enough for one day” Brett replied. “Okay, so here's what's the plan is for today. You all get dry and sexy while, I, on the other hand will drink most of this champagne and the two others I brought. God, I'm such a lush. But, and theres always a but, we have to audition, well you guys do. I'm you're champarone for the day. And tomorrow and probably for the week until this sitcom I'm on starts shooting. You guys could be extras! But they cast already. So, I'll show you the set and your on your own till I get some time off. Baby Kel, does that work for you?” John looked at Kelly and she nodded. “I totally love the Soprano thing you've got going for yourself Brett, it's hot, and with a body like that, my god, this should be easier than imagined. Connections people,” John snapped and took a swig out of the bottle of ice cold champagne. “The cab's waiting” And Kelly and Brett kissed and John led them down the stairs and they both jumped into the cab and the first set they stopped at, according to John, was a new reality show they were taping “They always need a gay guy” he said, “kind of even out the alpha males.” Brett had never been in a studio before, let alone in Hollywood. “Okay kids, this is my spot. Kel, call me later. Do you have my new phone number?” She shook her head. He found a receipt in his pocket and a pen and wrote out his number and kissed it and gave it to her. “Loves ya” John waved and disappeared into a studio. Brett looked at Kelly and they both smiled. “Doesn't it feel great to be in love, Brett, if that is your real name, Kelly kissed Brett on the cheek. Love time was in session. Hot, steamy sex on the floor session.

our apartment "LATHER"

I drove home and decided to read a little. We had a law book in the basement about everyday law and it helped me understand what happens when a company goes bankrupt. The chapter was torn out. The kids must be in the zoo by now, looking at all the wondrous animals that appear in tanks and in fenced areas looking for a way back into freedom. This house, my daughter, and my wife was all i needed. Well, I can say that now. Before Cass was born, I don't know how Shelby put up with me. We didn't live in this small town for quite as long as we lived in the city. New York City.

*****

We had a small condo on East 42nd and I would write. Shelby would snort lines (what a beautiful model she was). I would drink anything, wine, beer, bourbon. Sometimes I would mix them together and just inhale the mayhem in drink. She'd pass the rolled up 20 dollar bill and I took a snort. Good old fashion cocaine. A song sung in my mind. “Cocaine for horses, not for men, doctor say it kill ya but he won't say when. Well, hey hey baby take a whiff on me.” I knew all the songs back then and the coke helped me write all night. Mostly fashion and fitness with a little bit of romance for a local magazine. It wasn't great pay but Shelby was travelling with modelling and she was doing well. She was well and I let her do what she wanted. We were dedicated to each other. I looked around for more work and ended up finding a part time job as a dishwasher in a swanky bar called Bourbon Avenue. Half the kitchen was run by drug addicts. There was Tommy the Percocet, a dishwasher. Larry the 8 ball suis chef. Moonshine Mick, in training. Donnie, H-man with his shirt rolled down, waiter. And finally head chef, Heartbreaker Sex addict Jerome. I wouldn't really talk to anyone because we all knew what the job meant. Another way to get the next high. Jerome would fuck anything, but his dick got soft from the opium and he couldn't fuck any bimbos until he stopped opium. But opium was his love and he didn't give a fuck about sex, just the race of the horses, smoked, through his pipe.

I'd get home around 2am and hit the bottle pretty hard. I never really knew what sleep meant. The book was of the utmost importance to me. This little old red typewriter was all I needed to type a new story. Any story, whatever came into mind. I was half way finished a novel about two brothers and their lover. It was fascinating to me. I'm surprised we could keep up with the bills, but Shelby modeled, and would send some money back, in wire transfer, to keep me high enough until she got back from wherever. I really missed her. But then there were lines, and I just snorted away until I could see her in my shadow. Her voice in my mind. Her presence in the condo. So, I took some time away from the novel and created a one page story about a ghost. A ghost that was barely there but only I could see it. I called it Shelby Specter. Then I took a swig of bourbon, snorted a line and fell down head first into the floor. My skull reverberated into the floor beneath me. 

bead bracelet

He waits for the bus in the terminal. People there look at him, they stare, they judge. He had just finished his act and all he wants to do is get home and read and eventually succumb to his beauty rest, awake for a new day and a new task. The bus arrives and he shows the driver his slip. The driver nods and he walks to the back of the bus, not sitting directly at the back but behind a young woman who is about his age and she looks at his reflection in the window. She wants to see if he's looking at her. He is, but he blocks her gaze with dark sunglasses. New sunglasses, Twenty dollar sunglasses he bought when he was on his date with chopsticks and tequila shots and kisses and grabs and caresses. But now he is on the bus, and the date is over and the acting night is complete. He wears a bead bracelet given to him by an old Asian woman in the market months ago. She made him sign something, but he didn't know what it was. Today he decided to wear it, after months of looking at it on his desk. The young woman opens her purse and takes out a leather case, a wallet. She looks through her bills, in front of the young man, knowing his eyes see each fiber. --120 dollars-- All 20 dollar bills. The man is poor, but he could woo this young lady perhaps. But how. He has had enough talk for the day and enough thinking for the month. Does she want sex? Or love? He reacts fast and takes off his bracelet. He holds it over the seat like a used condom and asks "Do you want this?" She looks away and says "No" abruptly and he reprieves and says "Sorry". She says "it's okay" and after about three stops, the young lady leaves the bus. What did he do wrong, he thought. Isn't that what people our age do? And then a revelation. He wraps the bracelet around his left ring finger, over and over, until it is tight on him. He looks at his palm with a overlapping bead bracelet ring on his finger. A tear hits the dirty bus floor.

scene from "Lather": MEETING SHELBY

******

We met at her parent's place. In the fall. They were having a dinner party and my friend Gail suggested I come along. She was driving, and the drinks were free.

“Maybe you can meet her daughter. She is absolutely gorgeous,” Gail said, driving her BMW.

“Yeah, I guess,” I said staring out the window. Something loveable would be nice in my life right about now. Even if it’s just a fling, does it matter?

I didn’t wear a tie and my shirt was tucked in. Casual.

Gail knocked on the door and a 50-year-old answered the door. She greeted me and said her name was Winona and there’s wine in the kitchen. I introduced myself, but I had to get to that wine. It was the only thing that would help me talk without having anxiety. I met about five middle aged guests. Everyone had a drink in their hand. Then I saw her, Winona’s daughter, the only child of the home, the beautiful, tall, intellectual blossom. I learned not to stare in my college days when I would literally use all my eye power to gaze into the soul of someone. I still had a stare and in this case, I couldn’t stop. She had such a presence in the room that was lovable. Everyone adored her and I was sipping on a red wine. I swished the wine around, smelled it and then took a sip. She was standing right in front of me.

“I’m Shelby,” she leaned in to shake my hand.

I shook her hand and smiled. “I’m, not supposed to be drinking wine.”

She laughed, “Neither am I. But when you have a party like this, half the ladies obsess about wine. I drink Mateusz. Sweet.”

I looked at my glass. Almost empty.

“Let me get that for you,” she smiled.

As she went to get a glass, I see a man about my age 26-27 and he’s joined Shelby in the kitchen. I could hear them talking and a part of my impulse guided me to join them. They seemed to be arguing. I walked in and said the first thing in my mind.

“Is there any water?” I had to cool down the situation.

“Yeah there’s some Evian in the fridge. Bottom shelf beside the broccoli. I opened the bottle and took a small sip. The man’s name was Leon. He looked as if he was angry with Shelby, something silly and she winked at me.

“Am I interrupting something?” I said.

“Mind your own business, man,” Leon said, terror in his eyes.

They couldn’t have been fighting about anything too important. Shelby had a dry smile on her face. As if the whole thing was just some joke and Leon shouldn’t be taken seriously. He left the kitchen, mumbling something under his breath about “going to his car.”

“Don’t worry about it. He’s a speed freak and a total asshole. Everything revolves around his car and fighting. We’re just ‘seeing’ each other anyways. He spends half his life in the gym and no job.” Shelby admitted.

“Well,” I didn’t know what to say, “I’m a writer, I guess. I read a lot. The job is what I make of it, I love stories and I work on many. It’s my thing.”

She smiled, “So you dream. Finally, someone who can dream. I’m not going to stand that asshole anymore, and there’s something about you that that’s fun. A sense of adventure.”

“I don’t stay still for long,” I laugh, “I’m just making my goals happen. I need to know that I can make it through life on my instinct and knowledge. What are you reading right now?”

“Oh, ya know,” she made a thinking face, “mostly literature, bold Russian epics.”

“So, like Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy?” I said.

She nodded.

She’s an existential baby. I haven’t read anything like that though, mostly fiction. I read fiction so I can write fiction, makes sense. She took my hand and led me to the basement, her room and she started kissing my neck. I have never met a girl that was so forward sexually. She kissed my neck and my ear and she sat on the bed. We just lay on the bed, French kissing. Then all of a sudden something tears at my leg.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Leon said, with terror in his eyes. “Get your fucking hands off of my girl.”

“I’m not your girl, Leo. I never was and I never will be. You’re an idiot, get off him.” Shelby raised her voice.

Leon let go of me and raised a fist. I closed my eyes and heard Shelby scream. She kicked him in the nuts and slapped him in the face. She got in his face and spoke her mind.

“I’ve had enough of this bullshit. Just leave, leave and don’t come back. Forget the month we had and just leave me alone. Never look at this fucking house ever again,” she said, looking in his eyes.

What a dragon, I thought.

Leon got up and hunkered up the stairs, defeated.

She lay on the bed and looked at me, “You gonna finish what you started?”

I started laughing. She started giggling and I knew it. I knew this was the woman I would be with, the woman that I would marry, the love

I would adore.

We made out more on the bed and her limits were set, knowing the possibility of a future happenstance. We walked to the kitchen and I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was getting long and I had lipstick all over my mouth. I told her that I would be back. I went to the washroom and cleaned off all the lipstick on my mouth. I closed the door and walked into the back yard. She was on the patio smoking. I asked for a cigarette.

“They’re Dhjarum Blacks. Clove cigarettes. Do you dare?” she asked.

“Of course, I used to smoke those in college. Tasty.” I answered.

She opened the pack and I picked one. She handed me her Zippo. If you’re going to smoke, you might as well smoke professionally. I took a drag and the taste of clove engulfed my senses. The kretek crackled. I haven’t had a kretek in a while. My phone alarm went off, meaning it was the night before a deadline. I was working on a piece about a new novel that hit shelves at the end of the week. I didn’t quite finish the book yet, and with this deadline, I had to be sure to criticize it.

“I have to leave. I’m sorry, I have a deadline.” I told her. I was waiting for her to ask me out on a date.

“Do you need a ride?” she asked.

“Are you good?” I asked.

“Yup, I’ll take my mom’s car. It’s not a Rolls Royce, but it gets our family around.” Shelby smiled in my eyes.

“Works for me” I said.

We walked out of the house saying our goodbyes. I waved off Gail and Winona. They were kissing Shelby on the cheek. And I left with a smile on my face.

Shelby grabbed my hand as we left the house and she unlocked the car.

She gave me a peck on the cheek. We sat in the car and she put her hand on my thigh. This couldn’t get any better than this. Again, making out. She never asked me what my story was about and I rather not tell her. We arrived at my apartment and I was going to ask her if she would like to come upstairs for a drink but than I realized how sex would affect the situation if I really wanted to be with her. I directed her and she stopped perpendicular to my door. I kissed her and she smiled. My phone was dead so I found a receipt in my pocket and my trusty Sharpie and asked for her number. She wrote it down and folded it.

“If you really want it you have to promise me something,” she said.

“Which is?” I asked.

“You promise to be the man that I always kiss goodnight,” she smiled.

Wow, she’s thinking like I am. I took the number and looked in her eyes, kissed her and said “I promise.” And she laughed and drove away. I promised with all my heart, forever and I promise, til death do us part.

*******

capital B bullshit

psychic is the brain
numbers numb the pain
cadillac in gear
hell, i got the fear

bitches in the room
singing songs about some broom
i don't know what they be saying
all i know is playing shady

just words in my mind
tumbling back and forth
webster's dictionary is my mommas teat
how does it get so sour?

bringing it all back home
underneath the thunderdome
braking in my coup de ville
let's make a naked thrill

now the moment that i said
when a playa plays da game
says what you mean to say
contemplate the bullshit within

you laugh while i cry
i weep while you sigh
just another cup of coffee
let's time go half past nine

now this rap writes slowly
like my teeth, gold, peachy clean
ali bubu and alladin
love lifts us up where we belong

hell, i got no one
not a friendly shoe or dime
only monumental words, they fly
ekstastic moments in my cry

i know it don't make much sense now
with the clutter of junk that hangs around
drink the liquid, drink the tea
everything is herbal

ain't life a dream

a tidbit of "Soap"

The limo arrives and the driver is staring me down. I hop in the back and it's a bar. Bourbon, scotch, rye, decades old. Hand pressed vodka. The sugar cane. Joints and bongs. Pills. Lines and lines of cocaine. Mirrors everywhere. An escort sitting in the middle of all of it. Her legs built, her pussy naturally wet. She's snorting a line and passes me the straw.

 Shelbs would kill, destory, impale me if she knew I were dabbling again. I made a promise to her that I wouldn't coke or chug or high or fuck. She is a strong woman for putting up with me. Oh, god. And I haven't even started work yet. Cassandra would leave with her, but this job works enough for me. That's just the addiction talking, fight it off you fuck nut.

The escort was smiling at me and she wanted cock. That's all they ever want is cock. They're all tight bite body goodness, with just fucking on their mind. Daytime, nighttime. Fuckin' cock. She started to lean over me and hands me a mirror of white lines. I tell her no, as I look at the crevice of her fake tits.

“Driver!” I exclaimed. “I'm ready to go home now.”

The driver drove to my bum-fuck old house. Everyone in the town was outside, watching me leave the limo, well, I guess my taxi. Sand got in my eyes as I saw the mystical limo drive off to god knows where. Shelbs was at the door.

“What was that?” she asked, furrowing her brows.

“I got the job.” I said.

“Which is what exactly?”

At this point, I didn't even know what the actual title of the job was. I just said the first thing that came to mind.

“I'm a copywriter, writer and, uh, they will take care of everything.”

We sat down for dinner awkwardly. The tension was rising and Shelby wanted answers. Cassandra sat at the side of the rectangular dinner table and was oblivious to our conversation.

“Who was in the car with you? Tell me.” Shelby demanded with a chunk of turkey on her fork.

“She was an escort,” I said without thinking.

“Cass, go to your room please,” she said, spewing out like fire.

Cassandra walked up the stairs to her room, shut the door and began reading her homework.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN ESCORT?” Shelby burst out, “are you fucking her?”

“God no. Honey, it's not what it looks like. This company wants me to be their head executive writer. They try to feed me with caviar and diamonds. I swear, on my Cass's goddamn soul, I am not fucking, snorting, drinking or ingesting anything these assholes hand to me. They're just perks for those who stray, and I ain't fucking straying.” I explained.

“But,” Shelby said, gently opening her mouth.

“This is not happening right now. They pay well and I don't even know how to approach this place but I well as enough grasp, they want me on their team, and so be it, I am a team member.” I said as my tongue swelled in my mouth, “so don't worry about me or our lives, because WE, as a family, will be okay, HELL, we will be fine, HELL, we will be walloping in god forsaken glory when I work this job. I love you and I want what's best for us.” I took my empty plate to the sink, washed it, dried it and put it back in the cupboard. Then I went to the bedroom and just laid in bed thinking, what the hell was going on here. I never raised my voice, or talked down to Shelbs before. I didn't feel right and she was the one sleeping on the couch. After about an hour, I went downstairs and she was still awake. I put a blanket over her and said nothing.

“I don't want to turn into that again,” Shelby said.

I knocked my fist twice on the wooden staircase and fell asleep about an hour later, 1am, how did I let this get so out of control so quickly. And I remembered the redhead with her fake tits on my arm. And those lines of cocaine on the mirror. I looked at the ceiling and just closed my eyes and fell asleep. No pills for me tonight, no liquor either. I bared no dreams.