Tears on a Sunday Afternoon - Michael Presley [16]
“You’re home early.”
“You motherfucker,” I said as I leapt over to Annette, pulling the gun out of my waistband and hitting her on the forehead. She fell to the floor, butt-naked, shattering the wine glass she had in her hand. The long black strap-on dildo lay pointing up in the air as a small flow of blood trickled from her head.
“You bitch,” I said as I saw Lauren run and kneel down by Annette’s side. “I told you I don’t want this shit around my child. You’ve already confused the boy enough.”
“Emerald’s asleep,” Lauren whimpered, trying to revive Annette.
“Daddy!” my son cried out.
“Emerald, get dressed. Your daddy is coming up.”
Slowly, Annette started to come around.
“You could’ve killed her,” Lauren said.
“Next time, I might.” I headed up the stairs. “I’m taking Emerald.”
Lauren lifted Annette up. “No, you can’t.”
“Try to stop me.”
Lauren glared at me and returned to taking care of Annette.
I could have committed at least two murders and had not a single regret.
My son was still groggy when we came back down the stairs. Lauren had covered Annette with a black robe.
I walked toward the front door. “We’ll be back for our things.”
“Daddy, but Mommy…” Emerald ran to Lauren. They hugged and she kissed him.
“Go with your daddy. I’ll see you later.”
Lauren watched me with hate-filled eyes. I returned the same look.
“Go to the car, Emerald. I’ll be right there.”
“Daddy, where are we going?” Emerald asked, moving to the door.
“Go to the car,” I repeated.
When the door was shut, I turned to Lauren; my face strained with anger.
“You should’ve killed me,” Annette said, holding a green towel around her head.
“Next time, I promise that I will.” I was glad to make that promise. “I’ll be back for our clothes.
“You’ll be back all right. You’ll be back with my son and living right in that room down the hall,” Lauren said, picking up the phone.
The gun in my waist nudged at my skin. Two bullets were all it would take. I would walk up to both of them and calmly put a bullet in each of their foreheads, turn around and walk out the house. I would get into the car and drive until my tank was empty.
I shook my head and walked out of the house. In my life, timing was everything, and tonight was not that time. There would come a time when things would change, but I had to make sure I followed the blueprint.
“Is he asleep?” I asked Julie as she walked back into the living room.
“Yes.” She looked at me in dismay. “I don’t know how much that little boy can take.”
“It wasn’t my fault.” I threw my hands up in the air. “How can that bitch walk around the house at 9:30 P.M., naked except for a strap-on dildo? What happens if my son comes to the refrigerator for a drink or something? This shit will only happen over my dead body. As long as I’m alive, I won’t let this happen to my son.”
“But, Donald, you have zero control over what happens when you’re not there. And, most of the time, you’re not home. You’re always out there in bed with some woman.”
“I’m not at home because that would mean looking at those bitches for a lot longer than I care to. Don’t you think I want to be home with my son?” I was starting to get angry with Julie.
“Don’t give me that look.” Julie pointed at me as she took a seat. “I didn’t put you in this situation.”
“I know you didn’t.” I motioned for her to sit by me.
She remained motionless in the chair across the room. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, but Brian and I are really working out. I don’t think that I could be the kind of friend I used to be with you.”
“Fuck, how long have we been friends?” I asked, rising from the couch, blood circulating in my body at an orgasmic level.
“Don’t act like that, Donald. It’s not necessary.”
“If it’s not necessary, then tell me what is necessary. You’re starting to get dick from this brother now and, all of a sudden, I’m nobody to you.”
“Donald, I know you’ve had a rough evening so I’ll keep Emerald here. I think you should go,” she said, walking to the door.
“Go where?”