Roué

Chapter 8 - Nicotine patches and smoked memories

Chapter 8 – Nicotine patches and smoked memories

Chapter Song – King And Lionheart - Of Monsters and Men

Leaning against the wall beside Wal-Mart’s double doors was Quincy Quinn. She dragged long and hard on her cigarette like it was some sort of companion she’d known for decades. She wore a frilly dress and heels that could kill. And as I looked at her from where Harold and I parked, I still couldn’t believe that she was the brave little girl who saved my ass from all those bullies when we were young.

I visited Charlie’s office two weeks after our illicit tryst in the Palms Hotel and Spa. I could still remember how awkward it was to sit in her office while she rummaged for student records that had gathered dust from within the clunky metal drawers. With the kind of clarity one would expect from an epiphany, I was slowly piecing together parts of what had happened to me from when I was younger.

Harold scheduled a doctor’s appointment for me a week from today. Miami Beach Pediatrics, the hospital I needed to go to, was coincidentally within close proximity of the Miami Beach Family & Sports Chiropractic Center, which according to the lady I spoke with at Boys Town of Florida was where I got admitted for therapy after my family’s unfortunate accident. The thought of getting closer to the truth and un-boxing all these memories was quite overwhelming at first. But then I knew that knowing and understanding how I became what I was now was pivotal to having a future with Harold. I owed it to him to move forward, and the only way to do that was to go back in time.

Everything was coming full circle the more Har-har and I unearthed my past. I was glad to have Harold by my side throughout all this shiz. Days after I cheated on him were the most difficult for the two of us. There were times when I ceased from being intimate with him in bed because my infidelity still nagged at me. But his unconditional love became my benediction. I felt renewed, forgiven.

“Be careful Har-har. You’re making me hard,” was what I told him when he placed a warm hand over my thigh.

He jabbed on my shoulder in a childlike manner that made us both giggle, “You are so horny, but I love you. Now, go on. You and Quincy need closure. And besides, she was an important part of your past.”

I looked at him and felt washed with purity and kindness. Harold made me want to become a better man. I rarely cussed now. My curses were reduced to shiz and fudge the more he and I spent time together. I still had my Matty Boi flavor though, which was apparent whenever he and I go clubbing at Club Minxology. And I still gave Poncetto the finger during weekdays when I went to haul the fishies with him, “Har-har, thank you for agreeing to this. You are amazing.”

“Don’t make me cry, Matt. I will always be here to support you. Now, go on. You don’t want to miss her.”

I pulled down the sun visor to examine myself in the mirror, “Um, can you get me those nicotine patches from the seat in the back?” I asked him while I combed my hair to Matty Boi perfection.

“Oh, for Quincy … Okay, just a sec. I don’t have good reach. Can you hold my hips for me? I don’t want to dunk my face in the backseat,” I held him while he searched for the nicotine patches, which actually were not in the backseat. They were in my breast pocket, “Matt, I don’t see them.”

“Cause they’re not there.”

“Uh, you sneaky little—”

And before he could pull himself back into the passenger seat, I curved my fingers around the hem of his waistband, past the boxers, and into warm skin, “You’ve any idea how hot you make me feel? Hush, my love.”

“Matt! We’re parked in front of Wal-Mart® … Are you seriously having a libido attack right now!? Oh God, behave!”

“Harold, you’re hard. I was just kidding. And even if we were to hump here, no one will see. We’ve tainted windows.”

He pulled out from being hunched in the middle of the car, settled down to sit comfortably, and then balled a hand into a fist to jab at my chest. His punch was so light and fluffy, “Come here,” I pulled him into my body and planted a soft kiss on his lips. I lingered for some time as I varied the weight of my mouth onto his. Harold was such a sweet boy, and I loved every bit of him.

I could see the desire pool in those cute little eyes of his as he retracted from our kiss, “Now go. We have time for this later. Go before she leaves. You guys have a lot of catching up to do.”

I left a chaste kiss on his lips before I made my way to Quincy. She was puffing like a chimney, and it was so not like her to smoke. The nicotine patches was Harold’s idea. He said he saw Quincy leave Wal-Mart® the other day with two cigs in her mouth. He said that I should save her from her nicotine addiction. And that was why I loved Harold with all my heart. His love went beyond the two of us. He was passionate about helping people. If only I could afford a big fat diamond ring. I planned on proposing. But yeah, that could wait. I didn’t have moolah yet.

Quincy pulled on another cigarette when she saw me. She then dragged on it so hard that it practically shrank in half a second, “That could kill you, you know. Here are some patches. Slap one of these on your shoulder every day for the next three weeks to get you down from your nicotine high.”

“Why are you here?” she hissed, and then stubbed her cig with the pad of her Louboutin shoes. Quincy had always been the fashionable gal. Charlie was able to extricate some class pictures, and they showed a very young Quinn who epitomized fashion with the capital F. My style paled in comparison to her when we were children. I was a sharp contrast to her colors. I always wore drab clothing when I was a kid. I guess my colorful personality now was my way of detaching myself from the past. But now more than ever, I needed to rekindle old flames to stoke the fire of my memories.

“Quinn. Do you not remember me?”

“Um, I do. You’re the manhoe that my best friend hired for her bridal shower. And you were the guy I thought I had a connection with. Only to realize that it was nothing more than a pathetic crush. You’re a player, Matty Boi.”

“Damn it Quincy. I’m sorry, okay? I don’t have control over my circumstances. I know I f****d up. And that’s not what I meant. Do you still remember when we were kids? It’s me, Quinn. It’s me, Matty. Matt from the sandbox.”

Her eyes were usually drawn into a beautiful cat-eye squint, though at the mere mention of who I was as a child, her eyes took the shape of saucers, “Shut. Up.” was how she regarded me when realization dawned on her.

“You’re my f*****g Wolverine! Matty!” She threw her arms at me, and it felt like I had gotten another piece to my jigsaw puzzle. Quinn had a special place in my heart. She was the only friend I had before I met Collin. And as I sniffed the wisp of smoke that clung to her hair, I knew it was my turn to save her.

“Now, be a good girl and stick one of these on your shoulder. I’m here to save you from your addiction. Let me help you.”

She rewarded me with a smile and a tighter hug. Now I understood what it felt like to save someone. I felt mighty fine.

Harold made to work on his shift inside Wal-Mart® while Quinn and I played catch-up outside. We sat comfortably in the patio furniture, reminiscing days that were muddled in my memories. I listened as she narrated what she remembered from when we were young and stupid. And as she went on to describe the past in vivid color and detail, it made me realize just how clear those memories were to her.

I told her about Charlie the Principal. It made her squirm in disgust at the thought of me being intimate with a principal. But she also laughed in the most unlikely happenstance that I got to fudge the one woman who I shouldn’t have fudged. I had learned that Charlie didn’t have the most rewarding relationship with her husband, hence her cougar sexcapades. It was sad really. It must have been hard for her. She oversaw the welfare of young children in her school, but then she ended up f*****g one of them.

“Oh my God, Quinn … that woman was equipped with mammary glands that could feed a community. She has enough milk to make barrels of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream,” was how mockingly I described Charlie. Just for the sake of poking fun out of a disconcerting memory.

“Aw Quinn, when I f****d Charlie, all I could think about was my Harold.”

“That’s because you made love to him with your heart, not just your cock.”

Something clicked in my head. Like a tissue snapping between cartilage and muscle. I traced the pattern of my health condition – I’d get hard. My heart would speed. Then I’d have a mini heart attack if I didn’t fudge. But that didn’t happen when I was fudging the principal. The symptoms were not as strong as they should have been. What did it mean? Was Harold a sort of cure to me?

“It sucks to live a life with repressed memories. And I think you really need to go to that doctor, Matty. Don’t worry too much about your condition. I think Harold got you covered now. You don’t need to be in bed with strangers no more. You’re now sleeping with someone special.”

“You really think I have a future with Harold?”

“I don’t just think you do. I believe you will.”

“Thanks Quinn. You’re really a lifesaver.”

“Aw, just shut up and eat your burrito.”

It was moments like this that put me at ease. I knew I was close to getting my resolution. And with Harold by my side, things were going to be alright, “Oh my God. You know what? I think my butt can taste food.”

“You Matt are crazy.”

“No seriously. I think its tasting the fire from the chili we just ate. Oh dear God. Damn my rectum and its ever-growing tongue.”

“Ew Matt. So gross.”

Quinn wiped her chin with a napkin, “It was nice seeing you again, Matty. And if push came to shove, I’ll be here.”

I gave her a hug that communicated friendship and the kind of companionship that I knew would last a lifetime, “I better go get Harold. It’s his lunch break. See you around Quinn,” I waved.

“Take care, Matt.”

Reader: Where the hell is my sexy time? (╥﹏╥)

Matty Boi: My p***s is still sore from last time.

Reader: Damn you. I was expecting some lovin’

Matty Boi: How many Prologues does this book have?

Reader: Four. What do you mean? I don’t understand.

Matty Boi: If there are four sexy Prologues. Then there will also be four sexy Epilogues.

Reader: ER MY GERD! (>‿Matty Boi: What the f—!? Did you just orgasm on me??

Reader: (◡‿◡✿)

Matty Boi: Aw s**t.