17
Ricky
Why the f**k couldn’t I tell guilt to f**k off so I could live my life however I wanted beat the hell outta me. Casey was everything. Couldn’t stop thinking about her. Dreaming about her—her laughter, her softness, her body I’d lost myself in.
But the two times I’d stopped by the Vipers’ club after work that week, Butcher eyed me as though he knew I’d f****d his daughter and bided his time to take me out. Being who he was in the club, I expected he’d gotten the dirt on me. If not through Klingon, then someone back home. Couldn’t blame the man, though. If I had a daughter, I’d want her to steer clear from the likes of me, too.
Fucking depressing.
At least I didn’t go looking for a bottle.
I looked for apartments instead and found something a few blocks from the club. Spent al
