The Pragmatic Theory

[1] foxy a.k.a the fool

He sighed slowly, leaning back on the red leather seat and letting the oxygen slowly leave his lungs. When he was done - he brought the joint back to his lips and breathed in, filling his lungs with the smoke. Shane coughed a bit, relaxing further into his seat with comfortable ease. The coughing, got a bit worse as he breathed in further. Pressing his lips together, he looked over at Jolie, and chuckled with embarrassment.
"It's been a while." He simply stated, voice rough and jaded. He found his gaze wandering to the ceiling of the car, hanging his head back and embracing his high. She grimaced, burning her fingertips as she took the rest of the joint from Shane and finished it.
"Coughing. The most cop-getting-high thing to do." She nodded slowly, ashing the rest of the joint and leaning back into the car. Shane sat up slowly, his eyes reddening. He pulled down the mirror from where he sat and cursed. The puff under his eyes resembling that of a nonchalant no sleep delirium. 

"Damn puffy eyes. It's like I'm back in high school or somethin'..."

The two of them laughed. Feeling the seconds blend into minutes and the minutes blend into hours. Slowly the horizon once painted bright blue, glowed auburn dusk. The first twinkle of stars setting the Atlanta sky alight. 

"Feel better?" she asked, furrowing her brows as she looked over at her brother. He was dazed. High out of his mind. It got like that when you were a firm cop who hardly ever broke rules, and had been so since graduating from the academy at the ripe age of 21. Served the army since he was eighteen, enrolled to be a cop after serving, and did so for twenty years. He'd joined the army as an act of defiance. A young broody boy, with nothing to do but girls, drugs and fight with his parents. Get some kind of normie job? He liked being the one in charge...and any act superiority that wasn't from him, made him uncomfortable. Why was young Shane so mad at the world? Parents divorcing. His father, a real boy's boy, hit him around every now and then. Gave him his first black eye. His father taught Shane to be a man. He taught Shane how to love women in the only way it looked like he was doing it. Cheating on them. They were friends - but his father's reckless decision to sleep around with the neighbour meant a rough divorce that shattered any sense of stability in Shane's life. 

His father never remarried. He had girls. A lot of them. Some young, some old. They ended up falling out, him and his father...after his father slept with Shane's girlfriend Liza. Liza was a nice girl. Shane took her to meet his father because he figured she just might be the one. His father...well...his father must have figured the same damn thing...because the third night into the visit he walked in on them making 'love'. 

His mother, however, she remarried. A smart guy called Claude who was a do-gooder and a real friendly type. They had a daughter when Shane was seventeen. Jolie. But they never called her that. Fox. Fox because she was quiet and sly. That's what Claude said at least. A nickname type of guy, he was. But Shane never called her Fox. Fool, he called her. 

Fox, a.k.a, the Fool. 

They didn't speak too much until Shane got his placement as a sheriff in the outskirts of Atlanta. The same area in which Jo worked back to back shifts at a nursery home looking after old people. She was twenty-four and he was forty-one. The age gap brought differences you'd only assume. She was young, spunky and just starting her life - and he was settling down to what could be the rest of his. They sat, getting high in her small shit box of a car. Shane, very much out of his comfort zone but in need of comfort - and Jo, very much in her comfort zone offering comfort. 

"I feel like an asshole," Shane whispered, his voice quiet. The car was mostly dark now. Just the two of them sitting in silence. 
"Why?" Jo questioned, leaning over and nudging him. Shane looked back, pulling out his phone from his pocket and checking the time. He grimaced. Eight o clock. The day was almost over. 
"Shoulda been me...who got hit. I shoulda been careful. A third fucking guy. I should have known." He cursed. Jo pressed her lips together, shrugging slowly. 
"Shouldn't have been you. How were you to know? Rick is going to be fine, Shane..." She hissed. Shane nodded slowly. 
"Do you want another hit?" She asked him, watching as he played with his phone. 
"No." Shane replied, "Lori wants me over for dinner by eight-thirty." 
"Lori? Rick's wife?" Jo questioned, sitting up straighter. "You can't fuck Rick's wife, Shane." she joked. Shane narrowed his eyes at her, chuckling softly. 
"Not taking life advice from a stoner, whose midnight shift at the nursing home is gettin' done high as a kite. Sides' I'm just helping her out whilst Rick's not well. I know he'd do the same for me." Shane responded. Jo chuckled again, which Shane noted, so he smacked her arm gently. "Don't paint me like some kinda villain. It's just friendly. You know I wouldn't do that to Rick." 

Jo paused, starting up the car and looking to Shane briefly. 
"Of course." She responded. "Don't mind me. I am the fool, after all."