Grudges

“He’s late. How can a motherfucker be late to his own house?”

Digging into his jeans, Quinton fished out his cell, its cracked screen glaring from the sun. A mosquito buzzed its third lap around his balding head, scouring for a location he wouldn’t notice. Though he begged for freedom, he didn’t imagine the bugs would be this insufferable. Fanning his hand around his face, the buzzing soon faded.

Leaning against Bell, his rusted gray shit box, he pulled the hem of his shirt, releasing the trapped humidity. The popping of a muffler caught his attention. At the end of the maintained gravel driveway, a pickup roared towards him. Eyeing the waxed hood, he squinted at the cerulean color. The bass hit his ears before the mumbled words of the music.

“You and your shit music Mike!” He mouthed to the driver, who only grinned.

The truck rose three inches as the large husky man heaved himself out. His scruffy brown beard stood contrast against his skin. Almond shaped eyes crinkled in the corners, leaving webs of lines. Strange, they were the same age, but Mike looked 10 years younger. No doubt a karmic curse from his 32-year sentence.

“You came early! Must be itching to get back out there! You stop inside? Shelly and Mike Jr. are in. Had to go snatch up some copper, lucked out with 10lbs!”

Mike rambled on, walking to the bed of the truck. He didn’t care to listen, more eager to clasp that beauty in his hands. The larger man must have realized, and he broke into a half grin while pulling the tailgate latch. Wedged under the copper he pulled out case, sliding it to Quinton.

Sweat beaded in his wiry mustache, sliding over his lip. He licked it away as he unclasped the latches. Giddiness weld inside him, a feeling that hasn’t tickled his insides since tasting his granny’s homemade pound cake.

“Savage Axis ll. Shell got it for me last year. Good condition used a handful of times. Got me a better one for my birthday! The woman I got, man, she spoils me.”

Mike broke out in a hoot just as the screen door opened and a pleasant-sounding voice traveled across the yard.

“Lunch is ready! I have to go, make sure he eats everything on his plate if he doesn’t want dinner.”

Shelly, a dark vixen with judgmental eyes, and a scowl for everyone not her son, signaled to her husband. Catching his eye, she gave him a tight-lip smile, before disappearing back into the house. Quinton nodded in return, curling his lip slightly as he smiled.

Fucking coon.

Mike smiled and waved at the door. Looking, he could see dollar signs dance in the giant’s eyes.

I’ll let it go for…$850.”

“$850? That wasn’t the price we agreed on damn it! You said $600!”

“That was before you told me about your, ah, situation. A fee for this type of business. Plus, I’m throwing in a sight, that’s fair.” Quinton cursed under his breath, chiding himself at revealing too much of his personal life. Even if him being a felon was public knowledge, he didn’t think Mike had the intellect to google. Shelly did of course. Mike folded his arms across his chest and raised his brows.

“Listen I have the $600 I can make the rest up to you over time. Deal?”

Digging in his pocket he held up the wad of cash while Mike mulled over the proposition. Finally, the brute snatched it out of his hand. Licking his thumb that was surely covered in filth, he counted. Satisfied, Mike grinned, slamming the case shut before handing it over to him.

“All yours. I’ll be over Friday for the first payment. We’ll do…50$? See ya Quinton!”

Slamming his trunk close, Mike moseyed to his house.

“Dad!”

Quinton startled when a boy ran from between two wrecked cars. His mess of curls were tamed by six cornrows, and clothes covered with the day’s activities. Without skipping a beat, Mike scooped up the boy, and they disappeared inside. Shelly rushed out before the screen door had time to clatter. Giving him a curt wave she hurried past in her maroon scrubs, hopping into a white SUV then peeling down the drive.

Looking at his new toy, he walked back to his truck. Setting it delicately in the passenger seat, he started up Bell and took off. Down the bumpy dirt road, he merged onto the dead highway. Deer season will be starting soon, and he was dying to restart the hobby he had before his fiasco.

It’s not that he’s a bad person, just made some mistakes. He knew his P’s and Q’s, unlike most, who were below standard. Take Mike and Shelly. Mike works in his self-proclaimed scrap yard. Day in, day out, he buries himself in junk and fluids that no self-respecting man would do. Really? Stripping copper and collecting iron from raggedy ass appliances, you’d make more shoveling shit in a factory.

Shelly works as a nurse, the main breadwinner. He wasn’t sure why Mike bragged about that. A woman making more than her husband, a black one at that, fucking blasphemy. Since finishing his sentence, Quinton was positive the world went mad. Legalizing drugs, 18-year-olds flashing their cunts online for pennies, hell, there were only two genders before he went in. Now you can be a cat plushie, and no one bats an eye. Fucking bizarre.

Turning on an off-ramp, he drove 15 more minutes till he ended up in a sparse neighborhood. The homes, spaced far apart with crumbling buildings or vacant lots in-between. People loitered on the corners, some giving polite waves, that he pretended not to see. He took a few more turns until he ended up at a dead-end street. Half a mile down, behind browning overgrown grass was home.

A modest white farmhouse, its exterior heightened its age. The front porch bowed and one of the pillars was knocked loose. The remnants nearby, swallowed up by the earth. His lip curled as he looked at it.

I need to leave this shithole.

Shutting the engine off he stared at the front door as it swung open. Jared dashed out; his greasy brown hair drawn like a curtain. He didn’t even acknowledge him as he blazed by. Disappearing into the woods around the house. Worthless shit.

“Jared! Jared, goddamn it! Get back here!”

The shrill nasally voice of Becca made him flinch. Blocking the doorway, he glared at the short woman. Perspiration plastered her face making her look like a soggy donut. Her hair sat like a rats nest at the base of her neck. Seeing him sent surprise through her eyes and she looked at the ground.

Good.

Shoving past, his nose crinkled. He eyed the stained blue Disney T-shirt she wore. The seams taunt around her meaty arms. Her thin yellow shorts wedged in her crack, and he grunted at the food stains smeared on the front.

“Did you do anything useful today? I can smell the stank between your rolls. You’re a woman for fuck sakes. What’s wrong with that boy?”

Walking to the kitchen he sat in his chair at the head of the table. Becca sighed, before falling into a rhythmic routine. She gathered a plate and began piling the food from the stove on top.

“Nothing’s wrong with him, he’s still adjusting to this change. He’s not used to having another man around.”

“I’ve been here 8 months. Nothing left to get use too. You baby him, that’s the problem. He’s 19 years old. I wasn’t living off my mama at 19.”

“Maybe if you did you wouldn’t have ended up in prison.” She spoke softly, almost a whisper as she tossed the plate in front of him.

Sucking his teeth he stared hard at her. The moment she turned and exposed her backside, he launched out the chair. Extending a hand, he latched harshly onto her bun, entangling the hair between his fingers. Yanking back, the explicit words she hollered made him slap her with his other hand. Grunting, he tossed her to the ground, where she landed on her chin.

Droplet of blood splattered the cabinets and floor in the vicinity. He glared at her groaning before sitting back down.

“I told you don’t speak on nothing you know nothing about. Them soft motherfuckers you done fucked made you lose your mind. This my house, and you will respect that. Now clean you and this shit up!”

Grabbing the plate from the table he threw it at her kneeling form as she struggled. Food flew everywhere and he snatched up his keys.

“I’m calling your PO this time. I-I swear Quinton I am!”

Almost at the door he halted. Heat rose within, prickling his cheeks, and he clenched his fist while turning to face her. Blood and tears flowed down her cheeks, disappearing into her neck crease. She held a blood-stained towel against her chin.

“Go head call them! Tell them how you lied about bringing me here! Lied about your food stamps, your disability. You’re fat, bitch! You’re not disabled! Trust me Becca. I go back to prison; I’m taking you and your bastard with me.”

“You cruel drunk fuck! Praying on women like me because the ones your age don’t want nothin’ to do with you! I should have known! Pray God forgives your wickedness!”

It took only three steps for him to close the gap between them. Balling his fist, he struck her in the cheek. The motion sent her spiraling onto the floor. Walking back to the front door, he slid the locks into place. The last thing he needed was that little shit trying to interfere.

“Think you know enough to speak on me huh?”

Frantically he undid his belt, pulling it out the loops. Becca wobbled to her knees, pressing a hand to her redden cheek. His foot found her calf and he stepped down on it, glaring as she yelled. Wrapping the belt around his hand, he let the end slack. The metal link swayed, and his lip twitched into a sneer. Glee warmed him as he looked at her weeping face. These women, they don’t get it.

Raising the belt, he brought it down on her varicose veined thigh. The skin split instantly, and blood speckled his jeans. Violently she screamed while reaching behind her to remove his foot.

“Don’t run now! You thought you could speak on me! Stand behind that! Worthless, good for nothing damn pig! Only thing I liked about you was your pussy! You ruined yourself!”

Saliva foamed in the corners of his mouth. The words he spewed would make his mother roll in her grave. Good, thing he hated that whore. When her face seemed to morph into that of Shelly, and skin became the color of roasted coffee beans,he whipped her harder, grunting with each swing delivered.

“You will respect me! In my house, I’m respected!”

*~*

The sun dipped behind the trees by the time Quinton stepped outside. He took a pull of vodka from the bottle, coughing slightly at the after-burn. Crickets sung in harmony with the Cicadas that surrounded the house. Bats tested their aerial skills, swooping low to nibble on the Fireflies and Mosquitoes that cavorted.Walking to the driveway he tossed the half empty bottle through the driver window. It struck the top of the gun case before landing on the floorboard.

A light flicked on from the upstairs, showering the front yard with its harsh yellow hue. Glancing up, he sucked his teeth as he stared back at Jared. Raising his arms up at him he taunted, laughing at the boy’s scowl.He was sure the kid wanted him dead. The feeling unsurprisingly mutual. Giving him the finger he hopped in Bell and sped down the road.

After Becca sidetracked him with her issues, he decided a nap was what he needed. While it satisfied him momentarily, his body still remained restless. That’s when the idea came. The vodka an added bonus he found tucked away in Becca’s nightstand.

It warmed his belly, overflowing his mouth, as he fiddled with the tuner. Wiping the excess from his chin he found a melody to drum on the steering wheel. Eventually he made it to Stone Blvd, a long stretch of desolate road between dense trees. The truck swerved slightly, crossing over the yellow line while he wedged the bottle between his thighs.

Soon his headlights found a used trail and he turned onto it before shutting them off. Unlatching the case, he drunkenly set up the rifle. Once satisfied he pressed lightly on the gas. The truck rocked and groaned as it dipped in potholes. The vodka sloshed loudly, splashing on his jeans. Rolling down his windows he peered into the forest. The low light made him barely visible.

He looked for the local fauna. His heart drummed and he rubbed a bleary eye. What he was doing was illegal, and so was the gun in his possession. If his Probation Officer found out about this, well...let’s not think of that.

“Where are…ah, there.”

Passing two large trees he stopped the car. Just beyond them he smiled wickedly at the Doe. Its ears twisted and turned, while its lower jaw flexed casually as it chewed. Sweeping the gun side to side, he searched for a Buck.

“Help me!”

Instead, he found something else entirely.

“Hello!”

Stumbling out the brush the near the Doe, the animal darted. It bound over a bush and ran. The snapping of branches and rustle of leaves filled the area it once stood. Squinting he could make out a womanly figure.

Shelly?

No, it couldn’t be. Shelly was shorter, slender, and kept her hair up always. She walked with a prideful air about her and had a tongue sharper than glass. Her soft brown eyes pooled with kindness. Though Becca is in the picture, he sure was hurtin he couldn’t get a taste of Shelly.

“Fucking…I know what to do with uppity bitches like you. Those who stray...”

He slurred it to himself but tensed when she whipped her head in his direction. The longer he watched the more the features looked like that witch, and he put his finger on the trigger.

“H-hello?”

BANG!