Page 13 of The Dirty Saint

“Why don’t you and Grammy get along?”

I shouldn’t lie to my child. I know that. As much as I may not always like my mother, my son has lost too much already, and I won’t take something else away from him.

“Grammy and I don’t always see eye-to-eye,” I tell Noah. “But that doesn’t mean that we don’t love each other very much.”

“I heard her yell at you.”

I bite back on my irritation.

Of course, he did.

She’s lucky I have yet to put her in a fucking home. Or six feet under.

“We both yelled. We both acted as if we weren’t adults. But everything is fine, bud. Grammy and I are fine.” I grit my teeth.

Looking at my son, I cannot comprehend how my mother can treat me the way she does. How Giselle Maya can stand to hate me will forever be something I don’t understand. I would die for my child. I wouldkillfor him; in fact, I already have.

He is thegreatestpiece of my existence.

What a shame it is that I’m not hers.

During

JOEY

“You check up on the soldier today,” Dom asks as he takes a big bite out of his sandwich, the mustard dripping onto his lips. He quickly grabs a napkin to wipe it off.

“Not yet. I went to see Zahra instead.”

When the waitress comes to ask if we need anything else, I shake my head. “We’re good, but thank you.”

As she leaves, I can’t help taking a brief glance at her perfectly round tits, which are spilling out of her pink camisole. The two breasts are perky and tight, just begging to be handled properly.

Dom claps me on the shoulder. “You should go up to the waitress and give her your number. That woman looks like she needs to be fucked real good.”

“I already promised Aviva my cock tonight. But maybe another time.”

I lean back in the chair, resting my head against the brown-leather booth, fiddling with the watch clasped around my wrist. I then drag a finger against the ‘Z’ that I had engraved after my sister’s passing.

“Dude. What the fuck is wrong with you? Aviva is batshit crazy. I heard her father sells her feet pictures to help fund their lifestyle.”

I shake my head. “Whatever. She’s a decent enough fuck, and it isn’t like we’re sitting around her fireplace, discussing our personal lives.”

“Still. You should be careful. You don’t wanna get dragged into her shit.”

Because I don’t have enough shit of my own to deal with.

“Why don’t you just go back to devouring your food like a goddamn animal, okay?”

“You know what, man, I’m just looking out for you.”

“Ugh.” I quickly scoot back as Madi takes a seat next to me, her honey-blonde hair tied into a low ponytail. “You’re here too.”

She waves the waitress over to us, taking a sip of Dom’s strawberry milkshake.

“That was mine, by the way.”

“Oh, I know,” she says, handing the waitress back the menu after ordering her lunch. “But that only made me want it more.”

---