Page 50 of Along for the Ride

I hate that they talk about me like I’m an object. Like I’m a lamp and they’re arguing about who has to get up and turn it off. I don’t mind being used in the heat of the moment, but I expect to be treated like a fucking person at the end of the day.

“What is this?” I ask Gentry.

He tugs off his shirt and balls it in his fist. “What’s what?”

I gesture from him to the bathroom. “This. You two. Me.”

“A goddamn predicament, that’s what it is.” He sighs. “You really want us both? I mean, can your soul be any more damned after allowing two serial killers inside you? You have a chance at salvation, wanderer. We don’t.”

“If there’s a god, I think he’d forgive me. I mean, he’s the one who wants you on your knees, right?”

He rolls his eyes.

There’s a bigger problem here than just sharing me, though. I see it in the way Gentry and Karson interact, and it goes beyond a simple annoyance born of Karson’s antics. “Why do you hate him so much?”

Gentry chokes out a sarcastic laugh. “You’ve met him, right? Heard him speak? Heard him fucking eat? He does that shit on purpose, by the way.”

“What’s the real reason, Gentry?”

He sits on the bed. “Fine, you want me to spill my secrets?”

I nod.

“First, Karson fucked my wife. I came home from a hit and found him pounding her in the kitchen.”

That’s fucking gross of Karson. No wonder Gentry isn’t too keen on sharing. “You said first, which means there’s more.”

Gentry rubs a hand through his beard. “Shortly after that, he sold me out for less prison time when we got caught on a botched job. Granted, I’m the one who told him to take the deal, but I sat behind bars for ten years longer than I should have so his ass could be free, and he never once acknowledged the sacrifice I made. He’s a fucking piece of shit.”

I crawl over to Gentry and sit in his lap. My arms wrap around him in some kind of weird, comforting, sorry-your-brother’s-a-dick embrace. His arms remain at his sides, clearly unaccustomed to comfort. I grab his arms and wrap them around my waist, and he finally leans into me. “You two need a mediation,” I whisper.

“No thanks. Karson and I talk enough.”

“Me and you talk about what?” Karson asks as he emerges from the bathroom. He brushes a towel through his dark hair and looks at us.

There’s really no delicate way to do this, so I just go for it. “Did you really fuck Gentry’s wife?”

* * *

Karson

What the fuckdo these two talk about when I’m gone? “Excuse me?”

“Did you or did you not fuck his wife?” She stands and her hand lands on her hip.

“Why bring up something that happened forever ago? I don’t even remember her.”

I do remember her. I remember the day she dropped to her knees while Gentry was working late. She gargled my balls like a whore chugs mouthwash after a gnarly John. Frankly, I was impressed. I gripped my knife to slit her throat, to let her go out on a swan song achievement, but then she wanted more. I’d never killed someone while fucking them, so I figured I could cross that off my bucket list and end her cheating ass in one fell swoop.

“Why can’t you just admit you did something wrong?” she asks. “Don’t you see that’s why he doesn’t want to share me?”

I swallow. I don’t really have these feely conversations. If I had feelings, I wouldn’t be such a phenomenal serial murderer. “Gentry doesn’t share. Even before he got married and I fucked up his unhappy little home, he’s always been selfish. But if you think I should apologize, fine.” I turn to Gentry. “I’m sorry I made your wife moan my name.”

Gentry jumps to his feet, but Leana gets between us before he can charge.

“Fucking stop, Karson!” she shouts. “You walk around with this obnoxious persona so everyone will dislike you. Why? Because if you push people away, they can’t reject you first?”

Ouch. As much as she’s pissing me off, I’m feeling a certain type of way about what she’s saying. And I don’t like it. I step into her, fist her hair, and pull her against me. “You don’t know me, thief. Just because I’ve been inside you doesn’t mean you’ve been insideme.”

---