*** NEW AND IMPROVED ***
With her father missing, Shay will do anything to get him back, even if that means teaming up with a cruel gang leader and his band of psychotic men.
CHARACTER VIEWS DO NOT REPRESENT MY OWN.
***WARNING*** OFFENSIVE CON...
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SO COLD From the far northeast the sun rose with the gentleness of a fawn just awoken, blearily eyed and slow. The sky was a misty greyish-white, uncertain whether to clear or to darken and sodden the streets. The weather forecaster was a man on the radio in the corner of the kitchen with a dull voice, reporting findings of a cold day without rain. The coffee machine beeped and a brown hand reached to remove the pot from the base, pouring steaming black liquid into two tall white mugs. "James?" Cole called, gesturing to the sugar and the semi-skimmed milk. James glanced over from where he had been reading the newspaper and shook his head. Cole brought the two mugs to the glass table in the patio, sitting beside a pot of violet flowers. "Anything interesting?"
"A protest against the Dakota Access Pipeline, a plane crash in Pakistan, war and death in Aleppo as usual. Mostly international news. Hardly worth attention," James folded the newspaper in half and tossed it to the ottoman where I was sat, minding my own business, painting my nails white.
"Spread a sheet under your feet."
"I'm not clumsy. I have steady hands."
"You tremble holding a cup of water. By the time you take a sip the front of your shirt is drenched."
"Pretty sure that's you, James. How's your chest holding up? Still need a nurse to tuck in your napkin and wipe your ass for you, huh? Had any more near-death experiences? We won't judge you if you cry. You can let it all out."
"Found a surgeon who'll attach the rest of your mangled ear yet? Missing any other parts of your body or childhood?"
"Been blacked out with rage lately?"
"When's the last time you ran from your father?"
"At least I can see him." I smiled smugly. "Sort of lost your chance with that, huh, James? I can give you the number to my therapist. She'll teach you deep breathing exercises so you can control your temper."
James took a sip from his coffee, setting the mug down in his left palm, right fingers closed around the handle. He nodded as if he was contemplating my suggestion and then remarked nonchalantly. "Still wake up in the middle of the night with Oscar jerking off next to you?"
Through the entire back-and-forth dig and jab, Cole had been browsing through his emails. His head shot up. "What!?" he demanded, immediately maddened. His expression was furious.
"See what you've done?" I capped the nail polish and spread my feet on a sheet of newspaper. "That was a very low blow. Give it a few years. I think I'll be over it then."
"We'll return to this conversation then, I'll mark it in my calendar," James stretched out and yawned. "Having Irvin in my home was a mistake I knew I'd come to regret. I might put him up for the homeless shelter or be put down in the pound."
"He'll have nowhere to g–"
"Shay." Cole barked, interrupting.
I sighed, looking over at him and then glancing away. "He's dead. Does it really matter?"
