His Vice

Ch 9

she was in the house, on her own for most of the day, so bored she could feel her brain melting in her skull. Maxxy was napping, and she prayed to God he would wake up already so she could play with him, give herself something to do before her mind disintegrated. She got up off the couch, walking down the hall to the office she noticed on the first floor the day she came. It was empty, nothing more than a desk sitting against the wall with a light and a chair with wheels. She wished she had her paints, but hopefully, something in here would help. She started opening drawers, gasping in happiness. She pulled out the small laptop, and the charger, hurrying out to the living room. Even if this place didn't have internet, there had to be something on the computer that would entertain her, anything at all.

She heard the door open as she booted it up, letting out a sigh of relief. Another person. She hurried into the foyer, her smile dropping when she realized who it was. She sighed, watching Max shut the door behind him. Great, another thing to suck out her soul.

"Wow, don't you look like a fucking rainbow" he grumbled as he kicked off his jacket. She rolled her eyes, walking back into the living room, sitting back down on the floor near Maxxy's bouncy, which was keeping him tuckered, softly rocking him.

"What's for dinner?" she raised an eyebrow as he peered through the doorframe.

"What do you mean?" she asked

"Well, usually the wife cooks" now, she felt like cracking her knuckles and sucker punching him.

"Well, I'm not your wife, so you can cook your own meals" he stared at her for a long moment, tightened eyes before he left. She could hear his boots as she walked up the stairs. She sighed, she hated those boots. He had adjusted his attire to a light dress shirt and a pair of dark slacks in order to blend with the neighbors, but he still kept wearing those damn boots.

The laptop suddenly made a string of tones and she glanced at it, realizing It had finally booted. She didn't even recognize the brand marker on the back, it was slow and old, dusty from sitting idle for as long as years, so she suspected. It was so old, it didn't even have a password necessary to enter it.

The screen was bare, a picture of a soft sunset across the backdrop, but other than that, there were no application symbols, no margin buttons. She ran a hand through her hair, wondering if this had all been a waste of time. She noticed the search button in the upper corner, sliding the slow cursor over and clicking it with the worn touch buttons. It opened up, and she pressed the documents icon on the side.

"You won't find anything on there" she glanced up at his words, he stood there, arms crossed against his chest. "All computer systems are purged after every single occupant leaves" he exclaimed.

"Great, then I can use it to plot your murder" he rolled his eyes, walking out of the room and towards the kitchen. But, when she glanced down, she raised an eyebrow. He was wrong, there was a single document. It was titled Diary. she suddenly felt intrigued, clicking the PDF file and watching the pages of text fill the screen. She pulled the cursor to the scroll bar, watching the small pixelated numbers increase as more pages were loaded. First, it was 10, then 17, then 56, then 78, then 106. She watched almost in disbelief, wondering how much time it must have taken to write this much. And when it finally stopped rising, it fell to 810. 810 pages. She scrolled through the first few, realizing it was just as the title of the document suggested, a diary of some sort, text entries with times and dates. Some spanned pages, others only a few sentences.

January 26th, 1993, 5 PM

So, I'm here, in this damn house again while Jamie just leaves for hours and refuses to tell me where he's going. It's if he doesn't trust me, and I suppose he has no right too, I used to belong to another gang after all. But, I thought we got past that. I think he still suspects I'm working as some sort of spy for Midnight Sky. Despite how much I love him, Jamie has never been one to trust anyone, I can't blame him though, can I really? everyone in his life turned against him a long time ago. Somehow, I hoped I'd be different than everyone else though, that I wouldn't get the same treatment as them. But, I guess I was just grasping at invisible straws.

Maxwell keeps demanding to go with his father, even packing his little backpack in the mornings and trying to slip into Jamie's car between the time he unlocks the doors and actually gets in. I always found it funny, how they were so alike, so domineering and insistent. But, he's only 5 years old, I didn't know what to expect. Jamie and I fought about it, demanding I control my son, seeming to forget whenever Max did something bad that he's his son too. Jamie never wanted children, and I knew that. He insisted that all he would do was corrupt a kid, just like his father had corrupted him. But, for the sake of handing down the title, he knew he had to have a child, despite how much he despised it.

He treated Maxwell like he was a bother, an obstacle he had to continuously get rid of, like a weed in his garden that kept coming back to taunt him. I tried to reassure Max that his father does love him, but how can I keep trying when all Jamie does is treat his son like trash? I don't know how much more of this I can take, watching Max trying to please his father by doing something, anything. And Jamie won't even look at him. It makes me sick every time I witness it. And yet, Jamie needs Max to hand down the title, Jamie wants Max to leave, but he won't let Max go because of how valuable he is.

Her eyes widened, having to read over the words one more time to be sure she was actually seeing it. This was from Max's mother.

"What are you looking at?" she looked up, Max was standing there, eating what looked like a box of crackers he had tucked under his arm. She swallowed slightly, giving a quick look to the words before she shut it, making him raise an eyebrow, wondering why she so abruptly shut it.

"Nothing," she said quickly, getting up off the floor, hearing the noises of Maxxy starting to stir awake from his nap. She hurried over, picking up Maxxy into her arms as the child sucked away on the pacifier.

"Max, you like Maxxy right?" she asked suddenly.

"Why would you ask that?" he questioned

"That didn't answer my question" she responded quickly. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I knew it" he met her eyes "You hate him, don't you? you think he's a pest"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Max growled.

"Play with him then!" she said, holding up the child by the underarms. He backed up a step, started by her outburst with the child stuffed into his vision.

"That actually reminds me-" he muttered to himself suddenly as the baby cooed in his face. He suddenly walked out of the room, and she watched him go, fuming. She wanted to curse him out, kick him, punch him. He was just like his own father. She walked quickly, the baby bouncing in her arms as she followed him across the floor, watching as he opened the front door. She watched him walk out and to his car.

"That's right! just walk out like your father did!" she snapped on the porch, holding the child on her hip

"What are you even talking about?" he asked, looking at her incredulously. He suddenly opened the backseat, pulling out the colorful box and revealing it from the leather, holding it between his hands. "My father and I got along fine" she stared at the side of the box as he walked up the stairs with it between his hands. He bent it up for her to see. There was a picture of a happy infant on it, situated in a walker.

"The lady at the store said it would help him walk" and, for that moment, she was kind of...speechless. "It better fucking work fast considering the price" he muttered, meeting her eyes. She couldn't believe it, any of it. He had gone out of his way to do this, to get Maxxy a walker. Suddenly, her anger drained away, and she held his gaze, feeling almost the need to kiss the shit out of him. And she had to remind herself that not everyone was like their parents, no matter how messy their own lives had been.

"Max, you know that does need to be assembled, right?" he rolled his eyes

"I lead one of the biggest crime syndicates across the globe, I shoot people on almost a daily basis, I can put together a fucking baby walker" he grumbled, walking into the house. She couldn't help but let out a small laugh at his angry-looking face as he stormed back into the living room. Maxxy grabbed ahold of her hair, cooing and pressing his head against her chin, making her smile.