Page 19 of Babalon

“Trust me, I am.”

Lie.

I don’t give a shit; the more she tries to be arm candy for someone else, her chances of trying to tie me down decrease.

“I don’t like being clingy, and if she’s going to be out all night, then I rather go home than get stood up,” I added.

Lie again; leave me hanging, baby. I can always find another hole.

Ricky shoves away from the table and storms towards the back of the bar where the open deck was at. Thankfully, the large sliding glass doors are not closed as they would not stand a chance against that raging bull— I knew he was about to call her and chew her a new ass. Sure enough, after taking another bite of my cheese stick, I looked over and ol’ boy has his phone up to his ear and was talking more with his hands than his mouth.

Mission accomplished.

Other than wanting to turn her inside out, I didn’t feel like talking to her. He can take care of that for me, then I can get my dick wet. I don’t really remember when I turned into such a womanizer, but the older I get, the less I want anything to do with a family. No PTA meetings, recitals, and listening to children bicker and fight over who gets to play on the PlayStation next. Coming from a broken home, watching my mother fight with my dad, and ultimately be left to take care of my sister and I, was enough ‘family’ for me.

I don’t care who lands in my bed or if they stay very long; what matters is money, friends, partying, and a hot and willing mouth. Something I can pick up anywhere, and if it ever talks back, I can return the girl and pick up another.

Devouring the remainder of my late-night snack, I polish off a few more shots as my phone continues to buzz in my pocket,Emilia. The fiery Latina is going to give me an ear full when I make it to her place. She gives the best angry head, complete with her cussing me out in Spanish each time I thrust into her throat; ten out of ten, sweet thing.

Reaching for my phone, I pull it out, and sure enough, there are eight missed calls and just as many, if not more, text messages. Good, she’s real mad. Tossing my phone on the table, I grab my beer and nurse it, needing to finish it before closing time and make sure I get my money’s worth. Without that sale today, I’m going to be penny pinching until the end of the month.

Fucking lovely.

As I sit here, watching Ricky and our other buddies, Ivan and Patrick, dance with a group of girls, I start letting the disappointing thoughts run through my head. This is not the life I want for myself but I don’t really know which way I want it to go. Do I stay in something like car sales or is there something bigger than this out there for me? Children and a wife are out of the equation, perhaps I could move up the ranks at the dealership for a little while and possibly open my own.

Damn Kace, you have such extravagant ambitions.

Grumbling at myself, and my near empty beer, I needed to think harder, think more about what I want out of life. What I do know is that I would like to tap into my inheritance and travel a bit. Maybe drop down to New Zealand and go see where they filmed Lord of the Rings or something else. Yeah, that sounds good. I just need more; I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth, yet the older I get, the less appealing everything has become.

However, what I need right this second is something good, something that drains the energy from my body and helps me sleep better at night, like a hot… filthy mouth that refuses to stopscreaming at me. That wants to be pinned to the side of the bed and rammed into. One that drools and chokes all over my cock.

Yeah, it’s time to go. My dick is starting to get hard.

Knocking the last bit of my drink back, I place the bottle down and slide out of my chair; tossing a tip on the table for whoever snags it first. I need to get to Emilia fast, driving with a partial erection is bullshit all on its own. If I’m not careful with my thoughts, it will be a full-blown hard-on by the time I make it to her condo.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take me long to get to my truck, stumbling a bit due to the alcohol, but I made it. Using the key fob, I start it up, and it purrs with a soft rumble— music to my ears.

1 year later

“Mr. Patton, please pay attention.” I hear as I’m dragged out of my reminiscing, if you want to call it that. Sitting up straight once more, I look across the court room and make eye contact with Judge Walker, who’s nearly burning a hole through me with the way he is glaring. If I were a lesser man, I would sink down in my chair and cower but I’m not. I am just ready to escape this court room; though I know I might be leaving in a shiny pair of handcuffs.

“Apologies, Judge Walker.”

“As I was saying, the jury is going to join us shortly as their deliberations are coming to a close. Is there anything you want to say before their decision is read?”

“No, your Honor, I don’t have anything to add.”

“Very well,” he nodded. Returning to the papers spread across his bench, almost like he didn’t want to be in this room either— we have that in common.

As if sitting here wasn’t nerve wracking enough, now I have the feel of impending doom starting to hit, my stomach in utter knots. Turning, I get a glimpse of my mom sitting back behind my left shoulder. That woman is losing her mind and I truly hate it for her. She had to pick herself back up once my dad left, and now, here I am, on the verge of being sentenced to prison, destroying the little bit of normalcy in her life.

She’s sitting there coiffed and proper; she dabbed her nose to ensure there was nothing dripping from her nasals though tears dripped down her rounded cheeks. For a moment I think about telling her that I am so sorry for the things I have done, for turning her life upside down but as I start to open my mouth, the bailiff begins to escort the jury out of their chambers.

Fuck, this is it. The end of my life as I know it, which isn’t saying much. To some, I am sure, this is more than what I deserve. Sitting on pins and needles, I watch as each juror takes their seat and the foreperson rises to begin reading the verdict.

“Mr. Foreperson, if you would,” Judge Walker motioned.

“In the case of The State of Michigan versus Kace Harvey Patton, we the jury find the defendant guilty of vehicular manslaughter in the first-degree.”

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