Page 25 of Charity's Redemption

Cooked sausage invaded my senses, putting an end to the blame game.

“Come to momma.”

I opened the package, blew on the fluffy bread, then took a bite. My eyes closed of their own volition as I savored the buttery bread.

Perfection… for prepared food.

Cannoli popped his head out from under the couch as I moaned and walked towards me, his eyes landing on the food in my hand.

“Nuh, uh. This is mine. You had yours.” I shooed him with my hand. “Go away.”

He rubbed against me, meowing, not accepting reason, then stood on his hindquarters and dug his claws into my thighs.

I should have seen it coming, it was his go-to move, but I was so consumed by hunger that I didn’t understand it until his sharp nails penetrated my jeans and punctured my flesh like wicked needles.

“Ah, fuck,” I hissed as I dropped the last bite of my sandwich and grabbed his paws, unhooking him from my pants. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Cannoli sniffed the sausage.

“Oh no, you don’t, you little shit.”

He bit down on the sausage faster than I could react, then took off down the hall.

“Hey, get back here.”

I chased him into my room, then skid on my knees and onto my belly as he disappeared under my bed.

“That’s my food, you asshole.”

He pressed himself as far back as he could go, his head bobbing up and down as he took in the meat, shredding pieces off at a time with his back teeth.

“You’re worse than a dog,” I yelled at him while on my belly, my arm outstretched to reach him. “I should trade you in for one.”

He finished the last morsel of my delicious food, then licked his lips while I beat my hands against the floor in defeat.

“You’re just so proud of yourself, aren’t you?” I slapped the floor again, trying to scare him as he began licking his paw and rubbing it over his head.

“Sometimes, I hate you. You know that?”

Cannoli chittered as if responding to my anger.

“Don’t gloat, you bastard.”

Cannoli’s well-played revenge had me bereft of nourishment and not enough time to make another.

“Fair enough, you little shit. You won this time.” I left him to his grooming, then walked back into the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of my breakfast, and threw them away. My head hurt, and the bright lights didn’t help matters as they caused me to squint from the hot daggers shooting into my retinas.

Here came that migraine.

Grabbing the rest of my coke, I gulped it down like it was the cure-all for my ailment. The cold drink chilled my back molars, making them ache down to the gums. I tossed the can in the bin, then walked out to my garage and backed out of my driveway. There was a man I needed to see, a blessing I needed to receive.

The winding road pulled in memories of the time I rode with Luca as he sped around the curves to scare the shit out of me. He’d succeeded that day.

I found a space in the prison’s parking lot, then took a hefty breath. I hadn’t seen Arturo for a while, and so much had transpired since our last visit. Would he even want to see me? He told me to come visit him more often—well, here I am. Although I don’t think this was what he had in mind when he invited me back.

Tucking my pistol into the glove compartment, I locked it, then headed into the visitors’ double doors, emptied my pockets at the metal detector and walked through.

The waiting room didn’t seem as busy as it was last time I was here. In fact, it was pretty vacant, especially for the evening. I walked up to the guard sitting behind the window wearing a wrinkled blue collared shirt which made up her uniform, then picked up the clipboard. Last time I was here, it was with Nico, and we had a private room. I doubted I would get the same luxury this time, so watching what and how I said things was paramount.

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