Post by Church on Apr 6, 2021 21:07:50 GMT -6
Bullhead City, Arizona
June 2017
Beep. Beep.
The kicked-up dust from the gravel driveway blows over as Church kills the engine to his bike. He taps the handle twice, as he always does. A thank you for your service gesture.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Un-snapping his helmet, Church swung a leg over while reaching into the chest pocket of his leather jacket. Pulling out a pack of Winston’s, he grabbed one out with his teeth and turned his back to the incessant breeze in an attempt to light it. A few clicks of the lighter let him down, as he regretted leaving the Zippo in his office back in Las Vegas. He froze before a successful ignition, his attention slowly being drawn to the kitchen area of the house.
Beep. Beep
From the oven, the chirping alarm of the timer hitting zero. Church squinted his eyes as he slowly removed the unlit cigarette from his mouth and rested it on the speedometer of his bike. He walked around the back of the house to the door, side-eyeing through the window to look for his wife or kids. There was no movement in the house. Entering the house from the backdoor brought him right into the kitchen, the yellowed oven still screaming out the annoying reminder.
Beep. Beep.
A thin fog of smoke had gathered and as Church checked inside, burnt pizza began congealing to the steel rack, cheese burning along the bottom. He reached over...
Bee-
And turned the timer off, as well as swinging the heat dial back to zero. He stood in complete silence. He waved his hand to clear some of the formed smoke and made his way into the living room, an underlying layer of panic creeping into his thoughts.
There sat Brandy. In the old, faded recliner. Head back, eyes closed, body limp. On the small wooden end table beside the chair rested a spoon and a tall can of Miller Lite. Church snarled as just a couple more steps into the room allowed him to see behind the tallboy; a syringe and a small empty bag. Church moves in faster, kicking the bottom of the chair with his heavy boot as Brandy slowly opens her eyes as if waking up from a 3 day nap.
“Are you...fucking...kidding me?” Church asked quietly; but with the intensity of a samurai sword. He looked twice at the paraphernalia beside her before he angrily leaned forward with both hands on the arms of the chair.
He looked his wife in the dazed eyes. She’s still coming out of it, mumbling a bit before being able to form words.
“Wha...what time is it?” She asked. Church let his grip go from the arms of the chair, the sudden release springing her forward enough to drag her further from the daze.
Church was not a stranger to his wife’s drug habits, that was for sure, but it had become increasingly troublesome during the days that he was away from the house. When his kids were under her care, specifically.
It had become much more of a high-risk gamble as to whether or not his phone calls would be answered while away.
How could she do this? Where were the kids, locked in the bedroom like prisoners of their own mother’s demons? This bitch...
Walking angrily around the living room, his hands up to his temples in distress; Brandy looks around a bit before looking up at Church.
“What?”
“What?! Don’t you fucking what me! Whe-”
There’s a knock at the door, interrupting Church’s rage. His head snapped to the entryway with such speed that his neck almost let go at the hinges.
“What time is it?” Brandy asked again, speaking a bit more clearly now; although still unable to get up from her chair. Her high sunk her low.
The door knob turned and the unlocked door was slowly opened by a man Church had never seen before. His first instinct was to lunge forward as security, but the man’s entry seemed way too comfortable; way too expected; to be an intruder.
“Hey, whose bike- whoa.” The man entered the room, his attention drawn to the unexpected 6’8” third party. The owner of that mysterious bike parked outside of its own house.
Body language changed immediately as the stranger’s eyes darted between Brandy’s and Church’s. In his hands, a plastic bag from the gas station holding various items not clear through the plastic. Church didn’t need to see what he possessed. He had all the puzzle pieces he needed from the man’s appearance. The sweat, gathering at his eyebrows. The teeth, being eaten away with time, the awkward twitches in the unsure situation.
“Don, just leave me the stuff, I didn’t think he’d be here for another couple hours.” Brandy spoke through an unjustified irritation.
Don didn’t know what to do. It was apparent that he had been by the house enough times to feel comfortable walking in the front door, but yet had been blindsided by the large presence of a husband he didn’t know about.
“He...does he use too?” Don asked towards Brandy, as if the man across from him weren’t capable of responding to a direct question. Brandy slowly shook her head. Don’s body language suddenly shifted once more, as he stepped towards Church and reached out for what appeared to be an invite to a handshake.
“Well, it’s...I’m Donovan.” The hand was out flat, sweaty palms seeking acceptance. Church’s eyes were wide with anger as his fists closed tight…
And Church sent a right fist forward that could’ve found its way through a brick wall had one been in front of him. Instead, it connected with the dealer’s face with an impact that crushed his nose and sent him flying backwards onto the ground.
And suddenly, like a fight dog let off his chain, Church was on top of Donovan, sending a few more angry, precise fists into the meth head’s weak cranium.
“NO! TYLER, NO! BASTARD, NO!” Brandy started yelling wildly from the chair. “FUCK YOU, GET OFF ‘IM”
The screech was sobering, but it didn’t help her get out of the chair any faster.
Church stopped hitting the now-unconscious man, looking over to the spilled contents of the plastic bag. Unsurprisingly, the overpriced bag of Doritos was accompanied by a healthy dose of methamphetamine. Brandy found her way to her feet and began pulling wildly at Church’s back and hair in attempts to tug him off.
“You piece-uh shit, get outta here. Get OFF ‘IM.”
His body didn’t budge, as his eyes were no longer on the man beneath him or the blood on his fist. His eyes rose up to meet the eyes of others.
Angelina and Jude stood in the bedroom doorway.
His 5 year old daughter and 3 year old son.
ARIA Casino Rooftop
4/6/2021
“That’s not fuckin’ fair, I’m so sorry.” Amanda Porter said, as she held her arms out to embrace the highrise wind constantly combing the surface of the rooftop. Church leans on the cement behind him, a slow drag of his cigarette causing him to raise his eyes to the sky.
“Ain’t nothin’ fair in this world, which I guess makes everything fair.”
“But that methhead bitch can get high all she wants, like the kids ain’t nothin’ but background...and then she gets custody of the kids because you beat the shit out of her dealer? That’s...fucked...up.”
A small laugh slips through Church’s lips.
“The guy pressed charges, I’d be willing to bet he didn’t even want to. I bet Brandy used some TV-blackmail bullshit on him to get him to do it. Knew she’d get the little victory out of it. After that? I only saw the kids on Saturdays.”
The breeze kicks up a little harder, taking Church’s hair for a ride. Amanda moves closer to comfort the big man.
“They’re prisoners of a junkie, and I’m a fuckin’ prisoner of a lockdown.” He talks in a serious tone, that voice of gravel attempting to hide vulnerability. They stand for a few moments in enjoyable silence, both turning to look out upon part of the Vegas Strip.
“Just one more to get through. Remy Nakamura. Mow him down and I’ll be this close to that million dollars.”
“You gonna give that to the junkie?”
“No. This one? This one goes into an account I’ll give the kids when they’re 18.”
“Smart”
“Nobody’s fightin’ for what i’m fightin’ for. And Remy will find out what it’s like to get in the way of that. I’m repossessing any chance that anybody gives Remy of takin’ my spot in those finals. I’m the repo-man. Debt collection.”
The sun started its descent, lending the early shades of a deep purple to overlook the strip.
“Too beautiful for how ugly it’s all become.” Amanda said, shrinking into Church’s left arm.
“This’ll end. Eventually, everything ends.”
*Credit to J.C./McManus for the banner*