“Well, I didn’t see you step in and make it right. You put your fucking head in the sand and let me take the fall.”
All my emotions are stirring into a violent shitstorm.
“What’s going on?” I turn to see my mother standing in the doorway.
“Nothing.” I spin around and cold cock my brother right in the jaw. Letting every ounce of rage, fury, and wrath explode through my fist.
“What the fuck!” Sean spits out blood and I think a tooth.
“Ryan!” My mother’s reaction is a mix of shock and reprimand as she tears into the tiny room to inspect Sean’s mouth.
“I hate you! Both of you!” I look my mother dead in the eyes and see the stab of pain on her face. But I don’t care.
“If you ever fucking use my name, my social security number, or even my fucking phone number, I will come back and do much, much worse.” I poke Sean in the chest, threatening him with the most vicious voice I can muster. I am being serious.I will kill him.
I storm out of the room with my head about to pop off my shoulders.
Fuck my shit.
I rip open the front door, and right before I leave I hear Sean yell, “Prison changed you, man.”
I punch my fist through the wall. “You’re goddamn right it did.”
Fuck this fucking place.
* * *
Mac drivesthrough the Lincoln Tunnel.
My hand is throbbing and so is my head.
I need a drink. A big, fat, put-me-on-my-ass alcoholic beverage.
“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll get you some ice for that hand and a straw for the Tanqueray.”
My thoughts exactly.
“Maybe I’ll even pay for you to get laid.”
I glare at him. “Let’s start with the straw and the alcohol first. Then see where the night goes.” I don’t think I could get it up for anyone right now if I tried. My body and soul are still committed to a lost, brown-eyed, blonde-haired goddess.
Mac parks the Mustang in a garage, and we walk out onto the sidewalk in Midtown. There’s scaffolding above us and pedestrian traffic all around us. Mac leads me into a bodega a block down.
He proceeds to roam around the place like he owns it. Grabbing snacks off the shelves and drinks out of the refrigerators, all while carrying two bottles of booze in his arms. He plops his lot on the counter and pulls out his wallet. I just stare.
“What?” He looks between me and his haul. “Should I get a bigger bottle of gin?” he deadpans. “You’re right,” he answers himself. “It’s been a while. I’ll get the liter.” I glance at the girl behind the counter. She’s a cute little thing. Short, dark hair and big green eyes. She smiles, and I shrug.
Mac drops the liter on the counter.
Does he plan to bathe me in the shit?
“Where’s Ashley?” he asks as he looks around, pulling his credit card out of his wallet. The girl giggles. “Right here.” She takes the plastic from him. He finally takes a good look at her and pauses.
Oh no, I know that look.
“You… changed.” If that isn’t the smoothest line I’ve ever heard, I don’t know what is.
“I cut my hair and got rid of my glasses.” Mac’s mouth is dangling open. He’s staring hardcore.