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.
