GUN IN MY HAND

CHAPTER 56: WHISKEY FEVER

'Oh momma, don't you leave me alone

No telling what I'll do on my own

Oh momma, there's a pit in my soul

So deep I gotta fill it up now

Fill it up now, fill it up now

Fill it up now'

*BLADE'S POV*

"Open sesame!" I tried in front of the door because there was no chance my spinning head could find another way to get in after all the turns and twists I'd taken.

And fuck, it worked! Maybe I really had magic powers, though it wasn't the one I wished that welcomed me. It wasn't even a 'welcome', and my proud smirk fell down in front of Pete's crossed arms.

I even glanced behind because this glare couldn't be for his favorite 'nephew', but there was no one from what I could make out.

"It's 9 a.m., don't tell me you're already wasted?!"

Oh yes, he was talking to me, and way too loudly for this hour.

"Already or still?" I grinned, lifting my near-empty bottle of whiskey that was still magically in my hand.

But I didn't get to take a swig that he was grabbing my arm and pulling me inside. That old man could be fast!

"Come on, we need to talk, and I don't have much time." He pushed me on a chair to put his frown eye-level with me, his gaze more and more grave, though it was probably because he was shrinking, and my six feet tall weren't making him look younger.

"Whoa! What's the hur–"

"The shooting range reopens today, remember?"

The shooting range... the place where we rented guns... reopening on Friday... after the fuzz made sure the bullet hadn't come from one of our guns... for Douglas's murder...

"I know you're hurt, and I understand." He sighed, the movement of his gray eyebrows falling and furrowing almost funny as he looked at me like you would look at moldy leftovers of pizza in the fridge, and you didn't know whether to dump or eat them. "But I gave you enough time to drown your little broken heart in the last two days. It's time to get a grip and fight for Dorothy."

Dorothy, just her name was enough to come back down from my high, even if I didn't let it show as I kept my smirk and stood up, away from Pete's beady eyes.

"She's fine with her ex. They'll live their happily ever after shit, and I'll stay with my booze, as it should!" My hand rose in cheers, but there was no bottle in it anymore. "Give me back my bottle," I seethed.

My drunkenness was gone, and with it, my nice mood.

"No, I won't watch you drown in alcohol and dope like I did with your mom." The look in his eyes was so dark that I could see the memories reflecting there, and I glanced away because I had enough people to forget. I didn't need that... bitch.

But from the shelves to the kitchen table, my eyes caught nothing to distract me, nothing to swallow, except his words.

"And Dorothy, what would she think if she saw you in that state?" He pointed to my lips, probably smeared in red.

It wasn't my fault if that bastard had offered me to play pool with him, and from the blood on my swollen knuckles, it was obvious it'd cost him more blood than that scratch by my mouth.