Page 35 of Absolute Valor

My silence is not weakness, but the beginning of my revenge

One lonely streetlight flickers as it tries to stay alive. Given the location and the city’s lack of concern, any light it tries to provide will die like the rest of the lamps on the street. Two dogs lay in the dirt behind a rusting chain link fence, too tired, or too weak to bark at anything. A few men on bikes circle the basketball courts across the street from the house. A run down A-frame, it’s paint long chipped away by the sun and years of neglect. We had taken my truck as Audrey had suggested, something told me this had everything to do with provoking Lucas.

“Wanna know something ironic?” Austin asks, breaking the silence which had filled the cab since we’d left the shop. “This is the park we raised the money for during granddaddy’s run.” We looked at each other, shaking our heads at what the street has become.

Two cars sat in the front yard. The first, a convertible, its top long rotted away. The other, an old Cadillac with four missing tires, and cinder blocks holding it up. Scant amounts of grass littered the yard, weeds growing around the block of the engine of the convertible. The black truck I recognized, even with the back window covered by a clear trash bag and duct tape.

“Notice how they keep the driveway clear of cars?” Dylan points out, as my eyes focus where he is talking about. “Folks know there is a window on the side of the house. They walk up, tap the window, buy their drugs, and then keep going.”

Dylan walks ahead of me, looking around several times to make sure we haven’t been seen. Two wooden steps make up the dilapidated front porch, so we’re careful when we step up. Passing my brother on the right, my foot extended as I put some weight behind my kick and the door crashes down like it was made out of paper.

Stepping over the broken door, the room is covered in clothes, old trash, and dirty dishes. Lucas sits on a well-worn couch, a neon green bottle between his legs and a gaming remote in his hands.

“Heard you had a fucking issue with me, motherfucker.” Lucas is either too stunned or stupid to do anything, as the sounds from the game are the only noises in the house. Now that we are fully inside, the stench of body odor and old cooking oil sour the room. The window on the far wall is covered by a sheet, a nail on each end to keep it closed. There’s a broken window at the side of a clutter filled kitchen table. Dirt clouding the glass except for a small area at the top where it’s clear enough to see someone standing on the other side. The opening in the glass, a broken pane at the bottom, large enough for a man’s hand to reach through.

Lucas finally caught up to what is going on in the room as he drops the remote and reaches in between the cushions. Before he can pull out what I’m assuming, is a gun, I kick the coffee table out of the way, my gun pointed at the center of his chest. “Try it , I motherfuckin’ dare ya.”

In the recliner beside him is whom I’m assuming is Clifford, his daddy, a Mason jar of clear liquid at his side. Wearing his Georgia Bulldog baseball cap, with Border Bash written in small letters across the front. His wife beater with number one dad printed on the front, has seen better days, now has a red stain splashed across the lettering. His two front teeth are missing and I can see the black band of his monitor around his ankle.

“Now, I suggest you put your hand back on your dick, cause I’m sure it’s missin’ the attention.” Dylan orders.

From the sounds coming from the television, they must have either been watching porn or playing one of those interactive videos. “You were asked a question, you got a problem with me?” I kicked the edge of the couch, his bottle tips, but doesn’t spill.

“Did that fucking cunt tell you that?” He tossed back, a bead of sweat forming on his upper lip. “Bitch better have sent my money.” He’s trying to act badass, but has all the signs of being a playground bully, but I’m about to end his reign.

Dylan steps forward before I can open my mouth. “If by cunt you mean the pussy I’m talking to, your dumb ass told me everything. The money she showed you is mine, and so is your fuckin’ass for treating her the way you did.”

Lucas looks at me, narrowing his eyes, his upper lip raised in disgust. “I know who you are. You’re the fucking jarhead my girl was getting fat as a tick off of.” One thing about being a Marine, you learn to let the name calling roll off your back. Only a few things will get one of us pissed off, and it ain’t a pussy like Lucas.

“You mean the fucking stripper? Dude, she was an easy way to get my balls sucked.” His eyes narrow further, Audrey was right, he does have deep seated feelings for Ginny.

“You better shut your fucking mouth about my Dragonfly.”

Dylan moved closer to me, his gun out and pointed at Clifford, who keeps drinking his beer and watching the girls I hear moaning behind me. “Son, even you use her fucking stage name like one of her regulars. Bitch asked my bro here to call her Harmony. Guess we know who has the bigger dick.” Dylan’s look is challenging, daring Lucas to react.

Something ugly comes to life in him as I fire a few pit shots at him. “You’re in love with her, aren’t ya? In love with a whore who would rather fuck her own brother than you.” Dylan snickers from the side. Austin has eyes on the street and my truck, his hand on his gun, ready to take on anyone who attempts to come through the doorway. “Tell me somethin’, Lucas, did you enjoy having Cash’s dick rammed up your ass or did they make you watch as they fucked each other? You and your tweezers to hold your needle dick.” I’ve touched another nerve as he lashes out.

“At least my Dragonfly didn’t lay there and cry. Fucking Ree Ree is like taking a bath with your clothes on.” He laughed, picking his tipped bottle up and twisting the cap off in an attempt to take a drink.

“Boy, she laid there because your dick is too fucking small to feel. Her tears were from the stench coming off you. As for you knowing what a fucking bath feels like, I doubt if you do more than take a piss in the morning.” His clothes were in better shape than Clifford’s, but his hair needed an oil change desperately.

“So what, you fucking her now?”

“It’s none of your fucking business what I’m doing with her.” I won’t let him get under my skin and show him how vulnerable she makes me.

“Whatever,” he shrugs. “You be sure to let her know she won’t be seeing Grace no more then.” He brought the bottle to his lips and tipped it back.

“Did this motherfucker really just say that shit to me?” I asked Dylan. Its rhetorical and he knows this, but looks at me then back to Lucas.

Placing myself closer, I wave the end of my gun in his face. “You’re gonna take the girls last dime so you can sit on your ass and play with your fucking dick. Steal from the baby you created, and then ask me what the fuck I’m doing?”

“Hey, man, don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

Clifford snorts as Austin turns to him. “You got something to say there Joe Dirt?”

Clifford scoots back further in his recliner, placing the Mason jar back on the end table. “Just watching the three of you waltz in here, threatenin’ my boy like ya have.” He points at Dylan with his index and middle finger, a cigarette dangling between them. “I know who you are, you fucking pig. Don’t think I ain’t gonna call your boss and let him know what kind of cops he has patrolling the streets.”

Dylan drops his gun to his side and takes two steps placing him directly in front of Clifford. “See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Dylan places his foot on the edge of the recliner, causing it to rock forward, bringing Clifford closer to him. “First, I ain’t been a detective in this town for quite some time. Second, you would have to walk out of here alive to be able to say anything to anybody.”

---