Drunk And Doughnuts

Chapter Twenty-One

Vickrim's Point Of View

"Connor, where the fuck are you going to?" I yelled from the couch as he came strolling from the staircase, directly heading for the front door, he was dressed in all black, even his Nike's were black, his hair neat but his eyes tired and dark as if he had gotten no sleep at all.

In fact, he looked rather pissed off and slightly depressed, not his usual self, he was a morning person so seeing him anything but perky was interesting.

My eyes stared narrowly, to observe him.

"Take care of business, Winston called this morning about a shipment and needed my approval on certain things involving the new batch of coke." He said but I couldn't stop staring at his face and how bad it looked, like he was a drug addict and not a drug dealer.

"Okay." My eyes still curious as I nodded and then pulled out a cigarette from my box as he turned to face forward and grabbed the doorknob to leave.

"You okay?" I asked and then he opened his mouth to speak but her presence had stolen his words and my gaze.

Her feet traveled down the staircase, an oversized T-shirt draping her body like a dress as she held onto the rail while watching her feet, not looking at me nor Connor and it had made me fucking nervous to speak to her again after last night, it was just so awkward.

Do I say good morning?

I thought for a moment and before I could answer my thoughts she stared up at Connor as he stared back at her.

"Hey." She said sweetly and then he nodded with no expression as he pulled the doorknob and then disappeared closing the door behind himself while I lit my cigarette and then pulled it in from the orange end as she then shifted her eyes to watch me.

"Good morning." I said and then she smiled as she waved her hand about, trying to rid the air of my smoke, my eyes had followed her as she brushed past the couch and then made her way into the kitchen.

I sighed deeply and then killed my new born stick of death in the ashtray.

The air was thick with silence and it has began to irritate me, I lifted myself from the couch and then slowly approached the kitchen in order to converse about this because it was fucking ridiculous. I was off today, no meetings, no murders and I refuse to spend the rest of my day tippy toeing around her in my own fucking house.

We had to sort this out.

She stood behind the kitchen counter, staring down, watching herself prepare a sandwich, she looked drained and she was probably planning to murder me as she held the knife in her hand buttering the bread.

I smiled small as I watched, she was so comfortable in my home as if it was hers and it was somewhat refreshing having her not fear me, she had done as she pleased even though it was in the home of a drug dealer, who was in fact was a murderer and could probably kill her at anytime of the day, but she didn't give a fuck, that didn't stop her.

I like it.

"Morning." I intruded as I leaned against the doorframe of the open French doors that led to the kitchen, my arms folded on my chest as she looked up to see me.

"You said that already." She said in a flat tone and then dragged her eyes back down.

"Are you mad at me?" I questioned and then she lifted her gaze again, this time giving me a look as if I was stupid.

"I don't know." She said stabbing the chopping board with the knife, implanting the sharp end into the wood of the board as it stood upright without support.