Page 3 of Southpaw Slots

Thirsty?

Sleepy?

Need sex?

In pain?

When the answer is no to all of them, misery sets in. So, to avoid that, I seek some pleasure. A small hit ofdopamine that will abate the sinking hole I’m constantly sliding toward.

Like quicksand.

These guys are way too stupid to understand anything of value. The only reason to keep living is pleasure. Otherwise, I’d just rather be dead. Downing the rest of my beer, I bite the foam remnants off my bottom lip before announcing, “Alright, I’m over it. Hurry and change, assholes. We’re going out looking fresh tonight. Dress whites. Where’s that barber?”

Why doesit always have to be soloud? The dull bass of the repetitive drums in the back room of Trixie’s blares through my ear drums until they’re full of hot air. Closing my eyes, I let my head hang back on the red velvet chair while one of the gals, I think her name’s something inane like Matrildacox, grinds on my leg. I’m already past drunk, though. My cock isn’t moving, and I want something.

I’m not hungry.

Cass taps my fingers with his long tattooed ones as some upstanding citizen of Gnarled Pine slurps on his overgrown ebony dick. “Hey, I heard a few lackeys took some heat today up near West Tech.” His black eyebrows wiggle up and down as his large palm presses the girl deeper into his crotch with a rise of his hips toward her face.

“Oh?” I can barely hear my own voice. Did I even speak?

“Yeah. I think those foxes got hold of some weapons finally.”

Foxes…Cal.

I’m not thirsty.

Fuck that snake for murdering my sister. Likely killed my parents, too. Wouldn’t put it past him. Always carrying that weird, stoned smile masking his serial killer eyes. Now, we don’t even have the West’s weed, ever since I declared we’re at war. I’ve been down to skunk since he took out my supplier like a fucking drug lord. The only reason Kline set our spies on him was because he tried to commandeer the market. At least, that’s what he told me.

The rage I’d held at bay since the coffee table incident roars back to the surface. Bumping the stripper grinding on me off my hip, I say, “Darling, go gyrate on some other wallet. Mine’s not paying out.” Nodding toward the succubus on Cass’s crotch, I tell him, “Hurry and finish. Let’s go. We’re hitting up West Techtonight.”

Jinx dances like a fool on the small backstage, spinning on the pole while a few gals clap and giggle at him. Hoss leans into some Amazon thick lady against the wall, both his hands filled with her round bottom while he eats her neck.

“Jinx, get down off there, fucking moron. Let’s go. Hoss! Come on.” Glancing around the dim red-lighted room, all I see is a purple haze and empty sofas. “Where the fuck is Dave?” Before I can even picture him cutting up some whore in the bathroom with a machete, Trixie walks in with her saggy boobs almost falling out of her low-cut top. Frizzy gray and black curls spread like a Medusa all over her head as she plants a pink-painted smile across her full lips, making a path straight for me.

“Mister Donovan, is anything wrong? I got you all the girls you like tonight. They came to work just for your celebration.”My“celebration” is really about them getting their money for the night. This isn’t aboutme. Never has been.

“Thanks for the hospitality. We got somewhere to be.” I brush past her and head to the little side bar, which already has some cut lines on it. Taking a sniff of a row of the white powder, I stand up just as Dave waltzes in with a serious expression but, fortunately, no blood on his hands.

“We heading out?” he asks.

“Yeah. Hitting up West Tech for revenge.”

A nefarious grin crosses his lips as his black shaggy hair falls into his eyes. “Awesome. I’m down. What do you want? Just handguns or what?”

“Nah, nah. No one will be there right now. I want some Molotovs. I want fire, big explosions. I want the place destroyed.”

Cass approaches, tucking himself back in his white pants as Hoss slaps a large palm on myshoulder and says, “Sounds like fun, boss. Let’s do this.”

“I’ll drive. Jinx and Dave in the back with the cocktails. Cass up front with me in case we gotta pull on someone. Hoss, you get in the way back. Check our six.” His large shoulders slump, and I know he’s thinking he won’t fit, but I don’t want any lip. It’s go time.

On the way out, I snag a few bottles of liquor and the boys do the same.

Loading into the Escalade, I hold the Jägermeister in my lap, then open it and down some, the stinging sweet licorice barely registering on my numb tongue. “We need supplies, but I don’t want to get them from around here— Oh, shit. Bitch, get out of the road!” Some stupid cunt walks across the street without even looking. Right in front of me.

Cass grabs the upper handle near his passenger window, his body swinging into me while I swerve to avoid killing the old woman. “Yeah, I agree. Let’s head to East Side on the outskirts of town. That motorcycle place probably has what we need, and I don’t think they ever fixed the cameras after Strauss burned them down a couple months ago. They won’t even know.” A loud laugh escapes with some spit as he peeks over at me. “D’you want me to drive, boss?” His words are heavily slurred. Much more than mine.

“Nah, I’m good. Hand me a blunt, Jinx. That’ll slow me down.”

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