Wicked Proposition Part XXVIII

NOTE: PATREON SEEMS TO HAVE FOREGONE THE WOD DOC FORMAT. HERE IS THE FILE COPY AND PASTED.

I know this week was supposed to be Spider Fly 3 but I was so inspired by the last WP it just started coming out... Shit is hitting the fan.

“Oh, shit. Here we go…” Evan said, sneering as he turned the TV up.

True Romance. Christian Slater. Gary Oldman and a litany of 90’s Hollywood’s greatest talent. Directed by Tony Scott and written by Quentin Tarantino. Roger was on his couch with his arms crossed, yet another cigarette burning through his fingers.

It was the scene where Slater visits Oldman’s character Drexl Spivey, a facially scarred dreadlocked drug dealer who appears in just a few scenes yet steals the whole flick. Evan started reciting his monologue, reaching across the coffee table to grab a slice of pizza and leaning back as if he was at his own home.

“Grab a seat, boy, grab yourself a egg roll. We got everything from the little-eye Joe to damned if I know…”  

Roger loved the movie. It was technically his favorite Tarantino flick. James Gandolfini. Christopher Walken. Chris Penn. Dennis Hopper. All delivering some of the greatest dialogue ever recorded. Even Michael Rappaport turned in a good one.

But he wasn’t much in the mood for movies.

“What’s the big book say about nitrous?” He asked suddenly.

Evan laughed as he chewed. “I don’t think it was invented yet. But I know whippets ain’t sobriety. Don’t tell me you don’t either… C’mon, fucker. You know better than to try that shit with me…”

Roger’s lips quivered as he let out a long sigh and let his head sag to the side. Nothing had been right since the fallout with Liam. He’d told Evan he didn’t have to babysit him like that. But Evan insisted.

“I’ve seen cocksuckers with 15 years throw it all away over less. This is my job you fuck. This is how I atone for my bullshit…”

Evan shoved the last of a piece of crust into his mouth and his arm around Roger. “Bro, I know this sucks. I know…”

“Do you know? Do you? I lost a fuckin’ brother, man… I did nothing but disappoint him… Abused him…”

Evan’s grip around Roger’s shoulder tightened. “I know. Trust me. I know. And you did lose a brother. It was your fault. And you need to accept responsibility. But you also need to accept you cannot change this. You can only move forward. And I’m gonna make sure you do that. Clear mind. Clear conscience…”

Roger sniffled. “He stood by me through so much…”

“You still got a brother right here, man. Don’t forget that.”

“I OD’d years back. I was in the ICU for over a week. Breathing on a fuckin’ machine. He sat by my bed talking to me for God knows how long. And y’know what? I bet Wilma was giving him an earful the whole time… He told me there were days he’d beg me to wake up… And days he’d beg that I’d fuckin’ die. Just so he didn’t have to keep going with me…”

Evan sighed and rubbed his sponsee’s back. “Bro. I know it sucks. Remember this pain. Remember what’s come of this. And you make damn fuckin’ sure it never happens again. It’s all we can do…”

“Why do I even deserve to be happy, man? With all I’ve done? All the shit I pulled? Why’s he gotta get hurt? What’d he ever do? To anyone? What?! You gonna hit me with that higher power bullshit!?! WHY WOULD ANY GOD SAVE ME TO HURT HIM?!! HUH?!!?”

Evan shook his head and lit up a smoke. Handed one to Roger. “You weren’t always happy, my brother. I remember when you walked into that first meeting…”

“I just still don’t think it’s right…”

“It’s not right. It’s life. That’s it. It’s not fair. There’s no justice. It’s like… A fuckin’ roulette wheel or some shit. I dunno…”

Roger laughed for the first time in days. “Jeez Hemingway, you come up with that yourself?”

“Hey, fuck you… Cocksucker… I’m making a point here…”

“I hear ya… Liam.. I remember when my first deal went south. I took my last couple g’s and bought a bunch of yayo. Liam thought he was cool hanging with me, y’know? Mr. Bad Ass Dorchester Drug Dealer… We went out clubbing, I got loaded, dragged back home, along with these mystery fuckin’ coke heads who wanna mooch… Woke up on the couch to this scene… I had brought Liam on as security but he’s just not that guy. I was so fuckin’ angry… Pistol whipped one of ‘em. Saw the other was wearing a 103 shirt. Electrician’s union. So, I knew he had dough. I dragged his ass out of my apartment to an ATM and made him empty that shit. Probably would’ve beat the skeletor cokehead bitch too if she hadn’t run as soon as shit went left…”

Evan nodded. “What happened?”

“I bounced back. Fell back. You know the life, man, it’s… Ups and downs. But Liam was in shock. He knew I was slinging and shit, but he’d never seen that side of the business before. And he was sitting there on my couch, in shock. And I’m so consumed with counting spark plug’s bread that I don’t even notice. You know just as well as I do that layin’ a beatin’ on a motherfucker is just another Tuesday in that world. You gotta be ruthless. You gotta turn that fear into rage. Like my old man said…”

“It’s OK to be scared, man…”

“Not in that world. Eventually… He looks at me. And he says he’s sorry. This is too real for me. I should be writing and going legit. And here I am throwing beatings slinging white girl and burning my septum… He’s in school. He told me he loved me, but he can’t be around all the bullshit. He was a little more wild before Wilma got her hooks in him…”

“Those forks in the road, man. Bet you thought you was hot shit, huh? I’mma get this back…”

“I did. Then I lost it. Then I got it back… One thing I miss about the streets, man… The comebacks. The comeups. Getback.”

“Fighting. Looking over your shoulder. Police raids. Getting robbed. Besides, man… Monkeys can’t sell bananas…”

“I know that shit, motherfucker, damn… But you can’t deny that shit wasn’t fun.  A little bit…”

“I remember once night back in the day. Had damn near an ounce of yayo in my center console. Was sippin’ MD 20/20 behind the wheel of my Pontiac…”

“Pontiac?!?!”

“Hey, bro, it was a different era… And I had this fuckin’ dime with me… Absolute knock out. And we’re cruising down Sunset. Flying. She does a gagger the size of a fuckin’ shoelace and unzips my pants… My ass gets lit up…”

Roger raised an eyebrow.

“LAPD is different, bro. Don’t get me wrong, police is scumbags out here too. But I pulled a knot outta my pocket and just nodded at him. I expected dude to drag me out the front seat and whoop my ass and take my money. He just smiled. Said ‘Mr. Williams. I see you came a long way…’’’

“So, did you know him?”

“Maybe. Musta. But he took the cash and sent me on my way… Then I brought the broad back home and couldn’t get a hard-on, so I picked a fight with her ‘till she left… Real rockstar shit, eh, bro?”

“Hahahhahaha…”

“Hey, you kids got it too easy these days! With the Blue Chew and the mail order boner pills. Used to be you hadda go to a literal doctor’s office and be like ‘Eh, uh… My prick don’t work… What? Drugs? No!’”

Roger laughed.

**

Liam had been at Bender’s since it opened, a ritual he’d never engaged in before. But he couldn’t be in that fucking house anymore. Home had become a place of hostility, tension, and dread. There was nothing positive floating around his booze-soaked brain. Only rage and resentment.

Let Wilma have the kids. Tell them she ruined them with her greed and gluttony. No. He couldn’t do that. He loved them. But he had to get out of there. It was just screaming matches and booze comas. That couldn’t be good for the children, could it?

Wilma had been so hot and cold. One minute she was weeping, begging for forgiveness, the next her finger was at his chest, saying things to him so vile and sadistic they would’ve drawn tears had they not been so enraging and hypocritical.

Hank, the red faced, surly, middle-aged bartender had been watching Liam with a hesitant look of curiosity as he polished off a pint glass. One of the old whinos had put “My Heart Will go On” on the juke box. The amount of times he and Wilma had watched that fuckin’ movie. The mixture of jealousy as he faux-comforted her for the millionth time as Jack slipped beneath the icy surface of the ocean. The fuck did he have that he didn’t? Jack was broke as fuck. Was that all it really took? The house? The money? The cars? It all meant nothing? All it took was some slick talk?

Perhaps he’d been lied to. Maybe they all were whores.

“You’re here a little early, Lee. Wilma and the kids out somewhere?” Hank finally asked.

Liam took a deep breath as Celine blasted out of the speakers. The old crones that’d put it on had started a toothless, impromptu karaoke session that made him turn his head and scowl at them, though their advanced states of inebriation (and wet brain) kept them from noticing.

“Hey, brother, what’s wrong?”

Liam couldn’t bring himself to say it. He leaned on the bar and put his hands over his eyes. Hank only grew more concerned as he spread his hands onto the bar. Liam sniffled as moisture leaked through the dams of his palms.

“Jesus Christ, Hank…”

“What’s goin’ on, brother? Talk to me!”

“Wilma, bro… She… Got really heavy these last few years. And… We got distant. But I never stopped loving her. I just got frustrated! And, and, and, and am I the best communicator in the world?! Of course not… She was in such pain, but I wrote it off as her giving up. I was ignorant. And I’m sorry… I wish I went about it all so much differently…”

“So, what happened?”

“She got real, real, big, and then suddenly she starts turning it around! She got on Ozempic, got surgery, skin removal, the works. Everything was going back to normal. The kids were so much happier. I was so much happier. We started making love all the time again… And then…”

Liam couldn’t hold it back anymore. The booze and misery had formed a potent liquidator for the anguish inside him.

“What happened, Lee? Tell me…”

“Roger, man…”

“That fuckin’ cokehead!? Christ, that kid musta been thrown outta here and bought his way back in more times than I can…”

“Yeah. Roger. He’s been sober… Three years? Has a girlfriend. Better place. For the first time in his life, I look in his eyes, and they’re clear. No pinned pupils. No bags. No pain. And I was so fucking happy for him, man. I’ve been with him through thick and thin. I thought it was over between us so many times… But this time, it stuck. He’s working a program. Doing the steps. He’s… I never thought I’d ever sit in a room with this kid sober and just watch him be comfortable. I was so proud of him, man, I was so proud…”

“So, what happened?”

Liam shook his head and collected himself.

“He invites me out for coffee the other morning. And I knew something was up. I swore he relapsed. I was thinking… ‘Here we go again. He’ll never change. He only ever gave a fuck about himself…’”

“Right…”

“But it was so much worse than that… He told me…. He and Wilma… When she was heavier… Had had an affair…”

“Jesus Christ, Lee…”

“And he’s all ‘It’s been killing me to carry this around…’ Motherfucker!!?! What about me?! Selfish fucking prick. I wish he died in that fuckin’ ICU all those years ago, Hank. I do! I do! I was the only one to go visit him. His own mother had washed her fuckin’ hands of him. You believe that shit?”

“Knowing him, Lee, I can. Unfortunately… I suppose we are the company we keep…”

“This cocksucker had a book deal in his early 20’s. And he blew it all on drugs. Threw it all the fuck away. I think… Two years later he’s slinging yayo full-time again? Caught a case… Went to community college. Of course that was just to appease the judge. He didn’t give a fuck… Nobody but himself…”

“You want my advice?”

Liam thought it over. Shrugged.

“You gave that selfish piece of shit a million fuckin’ chances. And what has he done? Walked all over you. And to fuck your woman when she’s at the lowest point of her life? I guarantee you he made all the moves… I dunno Wilma like you. But I know that scumbag Keef. They’re all the same… I’d pay him a visit. Set him straight.”

Liam didn’t respond. Hank shrugged.

“He’s laughing at you, bro. Or he was. Who knows what kinda shit they were talking about you when they were going at it? Go see that fuckin’ faggot… Or that’s just what I’d do…”

**

Evan sighed and shook his head. “Look at Layne, bro… He’s so sick…”

“You ever meet him?”

Evan shook his head. “Give my left nut to have the privilege. Oh, fuck, bro, this one always gets me… Every time…”

Alice in Chains Unplugged. As the opening chords of “Nutshell” began to play, and the reclusive kings of grunge made their way to the stage, the biggest applause was given to haunted singer Layne Staley, a prolific heroin addict whose inner turmoil produced some of the greatest music of all time.

“And yet I fight, and yet I fight, this battle all alone…” Evan croaked.

Roger fought the tears as best he could. Hid his face. Evan put an arm around his back.

“Don’t fight it big dog. Even thugs cry.”

“What the fuck did I do, man?!?! What’d I do!?!!? I should call him…”

“No, the fuck you should not. Think about that man’s life right now, bro. You are the last person he wants to hear from…”

“I wanna take it back. I wanna go back in time and…”

“Can’t do that, bro. How many times I gotta tell you?”

“I was just so fuckin’ miserable and lonely and I wanted to fuckin’ kill myself every day but I never had the balls. I couldn’t go through with it. Fuckin’ Wilma, man… She was the God damn devil… I couldn’t resist…”

“You’ve resisted a couple years now, man. Don’t forget that…”

BZZZZZZZZZTTTTTT!!!!!!!

“Who the fuck?” Roger said, wiping his nose.

The buzzer for Kerryn’s apartment was ringing off the hook. Roger peeped through the blinds and looked for her car, but saw no sign of it. Plus, she wasn’t off for a little while longer.

“You don’t gotta let me in but come out. Pussy…”

“Holy shit is that Liam?” Roger gasped.

Another look out the window confirmed his suspicions. There, drunkenly swaying, his car parked diagonally across a handicap spot, he held a metal baseball bat in his hands.

“What’s up, dog? We going to war or what?!” Evan asked, shooting to his feet.

Roger put his hand up. “Nah, nah, nah, bro… This shit right here is between me and him…”

“You sure, man? He’s got a bat…”

“He’s shitfaced… I’ve faced far worse. And if he wants to shoot the fair one, he’s got every right…”

Evan sighed. “Alright. Well, I’ll be watching. And if shit gets out of pocket I’m going down there and I’m getting your back…”

Roger nodded and swallowed as he pushed the response on the buzzer. “Liam, I’m coming out. Lay off the fuckin’ buzzer, please…”

The buzzer stopped ringing wordlessly as Roger tried to calm his nerves. He rolled his rippling shoulders and popped his crazy eyes in. Liam just stared at him with drunken vacancy as he stepped outside the complex, Roger keeping his brow furrowing gaze steel as he lit a smoke and exhaled it casually.

“What’s that for? Softball practice?” He finally asked.

“I can’t believe you can just…. Fuckin’…. FUCK MY WIFE! YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”

Liam swung, but his drunkenness telegraphed his direction from a mile away. It was not Roger’s first confrontation with an armed nemesis. Next swing he would get ahold of the top and rip it from Liam’s hands. Roger put his hands up.

“I don’t wanna fight you, bro…”

“Yeah?!!? Too fuckin’ bad, man! You… You were talking mad shit about me with Wilma, weren’t you? I can imagine… Fuckin’ piece of shit…”

And then came swing number two. Roger’s adrenaline surged through his system as he took his chance and tore it from Liam’s grip. He clearly hadn’t expected it. Roger threw the bat across the parking lot.

“There. Now… You wanna go… We can go… I’ll let you get a few in… But I dunno, bro. I think you got enough problems in your life right now. You wanna add a nose job to the list?”

Roger stepped to him, chest to chest, Liam’s eyes moved to his shoes.

“How am I supposed to live now, man!??! This isn’t fucking fair! It’s not fair… I still… How could you do this to me, man… How?!!”

“I acted selfishly and stupidly. All I ever gave a fuck about so for so long were my own feelings. I tried to push Wilma away, bro. I don’t give a fuck what she says. I’m not in the business of lying anymore. Look, bro. You have no idea how fucking sorry I am… I wanted to OD in a fuckin’ bathtub after we broke that bond… You didn’t deserve that. None of this. Before… I always thought I was just hurting myself. Because I hated myself. And I still do, Liam… What the fuck have I done to deserve redemption? And I can… I can send you a stipend or something…”

“I don’t need your fuckin’ money you fuckin’ junky piece of shit… $100 a week ain’t exactly gonna cut it. We lead different lives.”

“You ain’t lying about that. Always have. But that never stopped me from calling you my brother. This, though? I understand. I understand. I destroyed your life. Your family’s life. I… I took your picturesque, suburban, life… And I turned it into a broken home like mine. And Lee, I don’t give a fuck what you think, I will never forgive myself for this. I just pray your kids aren’t too…”

“WE’RE GETTING DIVORCED, SHITHEAD! AND GUESS WHO THE JUDGE IS GONNA SIDE WITH?! HUH?! PAYING FOR TWO LAWYERS, MY OWN PLACE, MY ENTIRE WORLD IS COMING DOWN RIGHT NOW!!! AND WHO KNOWS ABOUT THE KIDS?!?! THEY WERE GREAT BEFORE. MAYBE I’LL BE LUCKY ENOUGH FOR BEN AND TAYLA TO TURN INTO A COUPLE OF USELESS, SELF-PITYING, FUCKIN’ JUNKIES LIKE YOU….”

Roger put his hands on his chest. Nodded. “That’s fair. I hope it doesn’t happen…”

“I was hoping you’d never cross that one line, Roger…”

Suddenly, an SUV swerved into the parking lot, brakes slamming outside of a space, and the suspension began to rock as a very large woman came waddling out, pulling a .38 from between her breasts and pointing it at Liam.

“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH, WOAH, KERRYN…”

“What’s this faggot want?”

“You wanna shoot me, you dumb fuckin’ fat junky slut? Go ahead. You’d be doing me a favor…”

She looked at him, then looked at Roger, nodding eagerly. Roger stepped to her and grabbed her meaty wrist.

“Put that fucking thing away and go inside. We’re just talking…”

“I thought we were gonna fight…”

“That can still be arranged but after those licks, I’m gonna black and blue your lips ‘till they could pass for Hoover crips you motherfucker…”

“I’m not leaving you… Is he holding?”

Roger gestured toward the bat. Kerryn snickered. “Softball practice, homo? If he ain’t outta here in five fuckin’ minutes I’m coming back down and I’m putting his dumb ass down, Roger. I don’t give a fuck…”

Roger tightened his grip around her wrist. “You are a two-time convicted felon, Kerryn. You get caught with a pistol I’m gonna be seeing you through glass for the next 15 years. And I need you right now. More than ever. So, get your fat ass inside the house and let me finish this. He’s loaded. I can take him.”

Kerryn glared at Liam, who glared back, unintimidated by the morbidly obese career criminal junky, her gluttony causing him to greatly underestimate her. “Get the fuck outta here, you…”

“And for fuck’s sake, Kerryn, move the God damn car when you put the piece away! It’s fucking Jerry Springer out here!”

“Alright, babe, alright…”

“She’s gettin’ big, bro. Another one of your sick little projects? You even love these girls, man? Or do you just like making them dependent on you? So they can’t leave you…”

“I love that woman more than you could ever…”

“Like Wilma, right? Bet she disgusts you now. Now that she’s turned it around. You preyed on her at her lowest point. When she had no self-esteem. That’s the kinda guy you are. Any woman with a lick of God damn sense knows better than to get with you. So, you find these fuckin’ pigs who have no restraint. No self-control. No reason to live. And you get them under your wing. And you mold them. So, you can keep them locked in with you and all your bullshit. I guess misery loves company, huh?”

Roger sighed. “Lee, bro, you’ve made your point. You wanna get down or what? I’ll warn ya, though. There’s motherfuckers in my head tougher than you… You’re not a badass, man. And that’s a good thing. Trust me…”

“Seems to have worked out pretty well for you…”

“Alright. I’ve had enough. Swing. C’mon. First one’s free. But make it fuckin’ count…”

Liam balled his fists up and slowly brought them up, Roger’s eyes on them, rolling back and forth like a kitty cat clock from the ’90’s. Again, Liam telegraphed his punch, and Roger handily dodged it, taking him to the ground and slamming his elbow into his face. He slapped him in the face as blood ran down his nose.

“I’m calling you a fucking cab. And if you ever do turn up back here, I will go discourteous on you.”

“Y’know I loved you? He sniffled, face turning red.”

“I know, man. I know. And believe it or not this is pushing me to the edge too. But I ruined this. This is my fault. I’m sorry I hit you, bro. I didn’t like it. I hate that any of this is happening. But… Would you have rather me treated you like a fool the rest of our lives? Like a retard? An asshole?”

Liam smeared blood on the back of his hand. He started to cry again.

“Y’know what? I guess not. The truth hurts…. Ignorance is bliss…”

“I know my actions have not shown it whatsoever, but I care about you bro. Deeply. And I hope you can bounce back from this. And I am so fucking sorry…”

Kerryn stormed out with a towel and handed it to Liam. “Get the fuck outta here or my man will put you in a fuckin’ wheelchair…”

“KERR! MOVE THE FUCKIN’ CAR! NOW!”

She rolled her eyes and did as she was told. Liam put the towel to his face.

“Lemme get you that cab, bro…”

“I’ll get an Uber… I’ll leave…”

“Alright, man… I can’t tell you how sorry I am…”

“I’ve heard that once or twice, Roger. Thanks…”

Roger stood around for a tense few seconds before going back inside. Kerryn followed him in, and began to kiss and pin him to the wall.

“God damn you fucked him up… Did you really get the bat away from him too?!?! Evan told me you did… God damn I gotta see you fight more… Gets me so fuckin’ worked up…”

“Baby… I just broke my best friend’s nose…”

“Best friend?!”

“And what the fuck is with you carrying a gun between your tits??!?!”

“A girl’s got opps…”

“Opps. You run a fuckin’ Dunkin’ Donuts, Kerryn. You got a rap sheet like a fuckin’ CVS receipt and you’re toting a pistol?!!”

“Roger, you know real beef never dies. All the junkies and sober house refugees we get? Any one of them coulda been a bitch I extorted in Framingham, or who I ripped off…”

Roger shook his head and sighed. He wanted to make a comment about how Kerryn’s physical appearance had changed just a tad since those days. But he also wanted to keep his nuts.

“What’s Evan doin’ here anyway? Babysitttin’?”

“He’s making sure I don’t do nothin’ stupid…”

“Awwww… That’s cute. But we’re kicking his ass out. And you’re gonna fuck the livin’ shit outta me…”

Roger sighed. Kerryn pressed her bulk harder into him. Put her heavy arms around his neck. “You’re such a fuckin’ badass…”

“I’m glad you think so…”

And she dragged him down the hallway and into the apartment.