Page 150 of Misrule
“Hey, sugar.”
He swigged from a bottle of scotch. His eyes lit up and he tried to stand, but dropped back into his seat.
“I’ll do anything,” he slurred, staring at her as Johnnie, Outlaw, Val, and Digger arrived.
Val’s eyes widened as he stared at her. “Fuck, babe, what the fuck happened to you?”
“That’s not how you talk to a woman, asshole,” Johnnie chastised.
“What you mean, John Boy?” Digger countered. “She not a woman. She Roxanne.”
“She got a pussy, motherfucker,” Knox snarled, drunk off his ass. He almost sounded like one of the guys. As if he belonged in the club with the rest of them. “That makes her all woman.” He slammed a fist against his chest, his attitude quite a distance from his usual walk on the uppity side of life. “Mywoman.”
He looked at her again. Regret and pain shone in his eyes.
“Knox,” Roxy blurted, “come inside so we can talk in private.”
He shook his head and swayed where he sat.
Digger laughed. “Motherfucker full.”
Outlaw and the others snickered. By now, Mortician had joined them on the porch, the only one who didn’t look amused.
“You’re not ignorant, Roxanne,” Knox started. “Or classless. Or a gold digger.”
Her insides quaking at his words, she laughed, high-pitched and loud, then rushed to him, snatching the bottle from him mid-drink. Liquor sloshed all over. “Shut the fuck up, Knox,” she whispered. “If you want to walk away alive.”
“No!” he yelled, blowing fumes of alcohol in her face. “I don’t want to live if I don’t have you.” He pounded his chest again. “You’re not a gold digger, my love. I’ve been such a stupid motherfucker.”
“In a minute, you’re going to be adeadmotherfucker,” she snapped under her breath, so he alone could hear her.
As if that worked.
On cue, Mortician said, “Gold digger? What the fuck he talking about?”
“He’s just repeating what Duke said to me,” she blurted, turning to face Mortician, and shielding Knox with her body.
“No, my love! It wasme. All me. I called you so many horrible names. I don’t deserve to live. I don’t want to live if you won’t forgive me.”
The intakes of breath and heated curses alarmed her.
“I forgive you, Knox.”
“NO! NO!” He pointed at her. “You listen to me, Roxanne,” he slurred. “You’re not a cougar who is trying to lead me around by my dick. You’re not trying to force these degenerates on me. I know you don’t think I’m Santa Claus.”
“Knox—” she started.
An arm wrapped around her waist. She struggled against the iron-hold, winning her freedom. On her feet again, she met Outlaw’s grim look.
“Time for us to take the fuck over, Roxanne,” he said.
Mortician yanked Knox to his feet. Roxy rushed to his other side and grabbed his hand, tugging with all her might.
“No!” Knox cried. “Let them kill me. I don’t deserve to live.”
“You sure the fuck don’t,” Mortician answered, yanking Knox toward him.
Roxy stumbled. Outlaw’s quick reflexes allowed him to steady her.
