Chapter Sixteen
A blotto drunk J.D. Becket whipped open his front door, and he looked like yesterday's roadkill. “Mother fucker. You f****d me, man!”
Charleston's juices froze in his veins.
“What?”
“Fuckin' you put that video with Florida, when I was tellin' her to go f**k off and die, and she saw it.”
“Oh shit.”
“She gone! She fuckin' hates me.” J.D. stumbled back and into the foyer.
Inside, his house had deteriorated well past its original state of shittiness. Furnishings were smashed and abandoned at awkward angles.
The two situated in the den as usual. A roommate scurried about upstairs.
“I can't even talk to her. She blocks me. And it's your fault, too. I told you to cut that s**t. What happened, man?” J.D. beamed with a deranged edge in his glare.
“No you didn't. You said '
