TRECE
2057 Words
Dad tasked me with one final requirement before the start of my suspension. Can you guess why I’m being punished? If not, it’s because of how distracted I was with Carma. Seriously, I don’t know how Dad doesn’t take some of the blame. If he hadn’t paired Harmoney and I together, I wouldn’t have had to play defense. His passive-aggressive comments during the breakfast weren’t needed either. When it comes to Carma, I love her. Unlike Travis. All he wanted to do was win. Do not get me wrong, there are days I wish I didn’t love her.
The excellent work Harmoney did on the case impressed Dad. He wanted her upgraded immediately. That meant she was to be moved to a higher floor with better cases, more power, and more respect. No one in the history of Savage & Sons has moved up after one case. Not even me. Instead of a cubicle, Harmoney now has her own private office.
The way she acted in my car when I told her about the eavesdroppers, I could see she was worried about her reputation. If my family cared about every photo published containing one of us, we would not be where we are today. The event is a good lesson for her. Everyone that works with us, past, present, and future, will be embroiled in some sort of scandal, even if there is no merit to it.
Dad called at the last minute and required my face to be seen at the press conference. That’s never something to look forward to. The load of cases currently on my desk was supposed to be my top priority. I can still work my cases. Getting paid for that time won’t happen. Some headway had to be made for Dad to be content. If necessary, I will send Carma, alone, on the vacation she has been pestering me for.
Rolling out of bed, the silence took me by surprise. Carma left the house early for once. For the day I was about to have, it was perfectly fine with me. Dad enjoys making a spectacle and Mr. Reynolds' innocence and eventual freedom could not have granted him a better opportunity. The prosecutor is an old rival of Dad's, and what better way to stick it to him than to tell the entire world he convicted the wrong man on another man’s false statement.
My brothers and I stood in the blinding sun behind Dad in our best suits as he waited for the right time to begin. As if there ever is one. Right off the rip they turned an innocent breakfast into some sort of love connection. I grunted when one of them suggested Harmoney was more suitable than Carma. If they only knew she was not. Scavengers, all of them. There to learn about a wrongly convicted man and all they want to know about is my love life. I crave attention but hate what it turns people into.
Unbeknownst to me, Harmoney stepped out of the building behind my family. Moronic questions were flung at her. Deep down some peculiar notion to protect her appeared. My brothers and I stood there in disbelief at the stunt she pulled. God forbid if my sister, brothers, me or one of my brother's flings did something so downright disrespectful, we would never hear the end of it. Fck, I’m in that boat right now. I was itching to say a few words to her and let her know just how unacceptable her actions were. Those words had to wait until Dad finished explaining the reason behind the gathering of the hacks. Then it was my turn to answer questions. None of them had to do with Harmoney, thankfully. Once I was free from their clutches, I owed someone a piece of my mind.
There is no denying my iciness towards her. Knowing I am the screw-up didn’t stop me from taking my anger out on her. Hopefully, I can get my mind right during my forced time off. Carma doesn't know, and I don't want her to know. During normal working hours, I will stay across the hall from Harmoney and at night I will return home to Carma.
On the way home, Evan called, wanting to hit up Bobbie's for a few beers. I like the place. It had a club-like atmosphere without being a full-blown club. It hasn’t been easy to hold back from confronting Carma or Evan. Continuing the normalcy, I gave in. A beer or two wasn't going to hurt. Evan was already there, downing his third beer, judging by the two empty bottles on the table and the almost empty one in his hand. He saw me and yelled across the room. Yep, he's had more than three and it's too late to turn around. I ordered a beer and sat across from him.
“Bro, the fck ya been?” At work, he should try it sometime. “It seems like you've been avoiding me.” Me? Avoiding him? Naaahhh, why would I do such a thing?
“Things with Carma aren't going as planned.”
“The btch still ain't puttin' out?” Looks like Evan’s wearing some brass balls this evening.
“I've asked you not to call her names.”
“Whateva, bro.”
It wasn't whateva. The more he consumed, the more he wanted to bash on Carma. Was it a one-time thing? Did he walk away unsatisfied? He continued to complain about the way she dressed, her trailer-trash accent, and the way she mistreated me most of all. The last one was rich, coming from him. I nursed one beer and barely said much about anything. Being friends for so long, I knew when it was time to cut him off. He's a bad friend. There’s no doubt about that. Allowing him to drive drunk and take the chance of him killing someone or himself was not something I wanted on my conscience. I didn't want him puking in my Ferrari either, but that mess could be cleaned up easier. I leaned him against my car, only for him to slide to the ground.
“She's nothin' spec-tal.” Evan tried looking up at me, but his head bobbed and weaved all over the place.
“So, you've told me.”
“Naaaawwwww, bruh. You's naaawww msssssn nuffin'.”
“Why do you drink to excess, Evan? When are you going to grow up?”
“Bruuuhh.” I thought he was going to hurl, so I nudged him over with my foot. “Duuuudeeeee. Whdjadodatfo.” His jaw was clenched as he tried to keep down the liquid he didn't piss out.
“We need to get you home.”
“No. A-lixxer, b-b-bud-d-d-eee, lemme.... lemme tell you sssscret. Shhh, ya can't tell lixx through.” I learned to understand the language of drunk Evan.
Placing my forearms under his armpits, I hoisted him into a standing position. Before helping him into my car, I fcked with him. “Alixx already knows.”
Evan's eyes went wide. “Who tol 'em?”
“Carma did, I think.”
“That btch. I'vvvvv....... Alixx wan't posed to out.” He counted his fingers and then shoved them in my face. “This manys how long she's been takin' my schlong again.” Again? “She sucks in da sack too. He no missssin nuffin. I A NUT TRIN GET A SUIREL.” For five out of six months they've been bumpin' uglies. Good to know. So much for a one-time fck.
He was plastered, and alcohol is known for turning off all filters used when sober. Seeing them once was enough, but knowing it wasn't their first time antagonized the anger I had compartmentalized. I shoved Evan to the ground and dug through his pockets for his keys. I still wasn't going to feel responsible if he killed someone.
Walking back to the club, I was shoved from behind. When I turned, Evan had his fists raised. It wasn't much of a fight. He punched the air, and I slugged him, knocking him out cold. He should know better than that. I went in and reported someone passed out in the parking lot and dropped his keys at the bar. The bartender scooped them up and placed them under the counter. I was done babysitting the prick.
Fck going home. I zipped off to an unknown location to drown my sorrows. Fantastic way to start off my unpaid leave.
Time off did not do me any good. In fact, my life went from bad to worse. I spent two weeks in Vegas, drunk the entire time. Blew fifty grand, maybe more, gambling, and I’m sad to announce my plan to get laid did not go well. All of that was before Carma and Evan found me. After that, I dove deeper into vodka bottles to drown out the two of them.
Somehow, the btch managed to drag me to an all-night chapel, and we got hitched. Evan was my best man to top it off. Why didn't I listen to Travis? I should have gotten out while the gettin' was good. According to Carma, we did the deed for the first time. The gold band I now sport on the ring finger of my left hand is my death sentence. In case you are wondering, we haven't had intercourse since the wedding night.
After getting the rundown from Dad, I was not surprised to learn me getting married was the only change. I meandered around the hallways at work until I came upon Harmoney's office. I thought about her constantly between drinks and bets. Her lack of interest in men was made abundantly clear. Yet, I didn’t care. Who knew you could think someone is fine and not have an attraction to them? To her, I am a fine piece of art that is untouchable. At least that's what I choose to believe. Finally getting the nerve, I passed by her open door and looked in. She was hard at work and didn't notice me.
I missed my office. The smell of lemon-scented furniture polish used to keep the wood looking shiny and new, my weight bench, and especially the breathtaking view of the city. If I divorced Carma, she would try to take it all away. I never want to return home, but I want to be there to keep an eye on Carma.
My first day back was the quietest day I’ve had since Carma and I started dating. Time passed rapidly, and my cases needed more of my attention than I remembered. I decided to stay late and if it turned out to be all night, who cares? Certainly not Carma. The skank planned a bachelorette party for herself and is no doubt spreading her legs for the strippers. It was nearing eight o'clock, and I was the only one left in the building, or so I thought.
“Enter.” I yelled, finished my signature, and looked up. When I gazed into those beautiful eyes she froze. When she did, I held my breath.
Her heavenly face instantly melted away my stress. We were like a couple of statues carved from precious stone. Which one of us had the capability to make the first move or say the first word? Not wanting my misery to shine, I spoke first. I hated that I never spent a single night across the hall from her like I planned. After responding in kind to my question, she asked if I had time to chat. Call me cruel, a d*ck, an ahole. Call me whatever you want. Automatically, I became disinterested in the conversation before it started. I’m sure she noticed when I went back to the stack of papers I needed to sift through.
“Can we talk about what you asked for?” I stopped writing. Was she fckin’ serious right now?
Flashing my new ornament at her. “I'm married or have you not heard?” I intend to take my vows seriously.
“I saw it when you walked by my office.” So, she did see me. This woman amuses and evokes a fiery intensity within me, and I don’t know how or why.
- Writer
