Reverse Rivalry

The Lowest Of The Low

Skylar slammed the car door shut and revved the engine. The night was still dead and cold but it couldn't cool the red boiling rage in his stomach. It had taken everything in him not to cover Jale's mouth, put him in a chair and make him watch while he gutted Mr. Kierson like a fish.

His whole body was buzzing with the thought to drive to an abandoned graveyard, to dig up an old grave, throw Mr. Kierson inside of it, and just bury the man alive but he didn't.

Jale's voice echoed in his head and whispering with that broken almost resolute tone convinced him if he attempted murder, it would be all for naught so instead, he left the passed-out Mr. Kierson on the sidewalk of the 501 highway of Heighston.

That was one way to get rid of someone without actually actively participating in the act.

Skylar let the window down letting the silence of the car filter his thoughts. He rubbed his lips while his elbows rested on the window pane of the car door.

Jale Kierson was a pussy. He groaned internally at the thought. He breathed out his distaste for the outcome of this situation. He knew Jale's selflessness was one big bucketload of shit and the boy had it in him to just take what he wanted and do what he wanted. There was a line that had to be crossed sometimes and this was one occasion Skylar would die for it.

But wasn't he also a pussy for doing what Jale wanted instead of what should have been done?

Skylar pushed his thumb over the call button on the steering wheel and searched for a name he hated calling even though this, was the third time this year.

The dialer tone started on, "pocket money."

Skylar felt his eyebrows sink into his forehead. His grip on the steering wheel tightened and he tried not to grit his teeth. The wind from the outside blew into his face and curved his messy bangs from his forehead. The clock on his phone switched to 1:02 am before the call connected.

"What do you want?"

Skylar pressed the gas pedal zooming faster as his heart thumped a bit louder than necessary.

"You fucked up,"

"Your language never gets better, Lain," the voice answered in a dry tone.

"Scott, when a dead man returns from god knows where you placed him, my language is the least of your problems,"

"Well you did not hold up your end of the deal and what happens when you break a deal, Skylar Lain?"

"I don't need your crap, why did you let him go?" Skylar said in an impatient tone.

"Boy, I only put up with your shit because you came from my ball sack mistakenly. You may be my son but we still had a deal,"

Skylar felt that sentence cut into his back. The quiet hiss that came from his lips was a testament to the hate he had for the word, "son."

"Are you blaming me for your fuck up?"

"Mentioning me to that man was the last straw,"

"You were practically begging for him to know you motherfucker,"

"You haven't held up your end of the deal from years ago and I forgave your debt, Skylar," The voice drawled.

Skylar's feet eased off the gas pedal as he came to a stop in front of his house. He looked up to the room where Jale and Vale must be, watching the light in the room through its window. He gazed at the female curved shadow in it.

He could hear his heartbeat over the silence of the neighborhood. He couldn't help recalling Jale's face, his trembling hands, and his frantic scared eyes from just a moment ago.