Psychosis

Nouveau Riche {1/2}

Alex turned five on the twenty-seventh of February. I threw a small get-together on the following Saturday. My parents, Roselyn, and my grandfather showed up; unfortunately due to the rapidly growing pandemic, not much could be done. I had reached the old age of twenty-four and as my kids grew, I became more aware of the time I had left to leave a mark upon the world. I had entered self-defense classes from a private teacher and was beginning to slim down. It was rare, if ever, that I’d use; the longer trips would be a cause for me.

One cool night while on my bike, cruising through Arkansas to Missouri for a sizable delivery, I had a moment of nostalgia when I’d remembered a time eighteen years prior while attending kindergarten at Foley Elementary School.

There was a career day where we all had an opportunity to meet the driver of an eighteen-wheeler. Once the speech and presentation had concluded, we were offered to sit in the driver’s seat, my hand shot up just as did every other five or six-year-old in my class while standing out on the football field of the Ivan Jones Stadium.

I was the first to be chosen. Thrilled and anxious, the gentleman asked me where I would go if I could go anywhere in the world. My childish mind jumped to the memory of my long-lost brother, who lived far away from the small town of Foley, all the way in Arkansas. At the time I had no interest in leaving my birthplace other than my brother. He was the only thing outside of Foley besides my mom’s home city of New Orleans, which we visited often. I grinned at myself given the random memory and chuckled. ‘f**k that guy.’ I thought to myself.

I not only took part in taekwondo but also weapons training courses with Lawrence.

Our first session took place on a private piece of property deep in the backwoods of Elberta. The lady who owned the land had one of those common southern belle looks. Her hair was big and curly, strawberry blonde in color. She had high, round cheeks, bright red lipstick, brown eyes, and just a few dark freckles. Her waist was thin, her hips were wide, her t**s were huge, and her jeans were too tight. She was older, at least in her fifties.

I stayed outside while they conversed in her office; which was simply a cabin with a bar, but instead of liquor, she sold ammunition and targets. Once we got all set up outside, Lawrence gave me a brief rundown of the handgun, rifle, and shotgun he’d brought. He gave me no instruction on how to hold the handgun and my thumb was up when I initially squeezed the trigger. The slide popped back and gashed me open.

“Son of a bitch.” I hissed and handed him the gun, immediately inspecting the gaping hole in the crease of my phalanges. “What now? You got a bandaid or something?”

Lawrence chuckled at me. “Yeah sure, one sec.” He walked into the cabin and blood started to drip off of my hand onto the grass. When he returned he held black electrical tape in one hand and a paper towel in the other. He grabbed my wrist, wrapped the paper towel around the wound, then secured it with a couple of strips of tape.

“You remind me so much of my dad.” I coughed.

He grinned at me. “It’s a dad thing. Alright, here, try it again, and don't hold your thumb up this time.”

I nodded. “This isn’t going to feel good.”

“It’s not supposed to.”

I fired it several times at the target, but none of my shots hit the center and none of my shots missed the paper. When we inspected it he showed me that all of the wounds to the paper were deadly ones.

“Okay so here’s what I want you to do.” He repositioned my hands and pressed on my shoulder to lean forward. “Stand firm, steady your grip, and control the kick.”

It took a few tries to understand how to make the technique work but once I got used to it I was able to hit the center of my target even with a trembling hand. I was taught to reload clips, as well as how to follow proper safety measures, before moving on to the rifle.

He placed the case on the table of a small wooden stall and handed me a water bottle, a target, and a stapler. “If you look way on out there, you’ll see a small piece of plywood nailed onto the fence. Set the water bottle on the fence post and put your target up.” He said as he removed his hat to wipe his brow. I walked off, the grass stood taller than my running shoes, pollen clung to my leggings, and my bare shoulders were beginning to burn.

The rest of the day would prove to be long and hot. My body ached and the cut on my thumb was deeper than I thought. It was wrapped for nearly three weeks before it fully healed and the scar would be permanent.

Eventually, I was confident enough to get myself a nicely weighted 9MM pistol. I obtained all the paperwork to conceal carry and found a shooting range in Stapleton close to my mom’s house. I was able to visit my parents more often and they happily kept the kids for me to go train. My mom became motivated to get herself a weapon for protection and would often accompany me to the range.

Black Cat Transport had really taken off and I felt genuinely happy to do business with such a variety of people. More often than not I was moving large amounts of drugs across state lines, the pick-ups and drop-offs had become stereotypical in nature. So much so, in fact, that I had a heavy déjà vu moment while running an errand with my dear mother.

“Kara, if I drive, will you run into the store and pick something up for me? I already called ahead and they will be ready with it.”

When we arrived at the store I walked in nonchalantly and stood by the counter, waiting for a moment to speak with the cashier. She recognized me right away and greeted me.

“Hey,” I smiled back, “I’m here for the stuff.”

She reached under the counter and pulled out two cases of tea. “I have two up here, the rest are in the back and I’ll have to get the open case from the fridge.” She stepped around me and called on her radio to a gentleman in the back and told him the tea was ready for pick up.

I walked to the back of the store and chortled when he started loading cases of tea into my basket. He raised an eyebrow at me and I grinned, we made eye contact and I told him that I was used to picking up cases. When I made my way back to the register, I tossed a candy bar onto the counter with the eight cases of extra sweet tea.

“That’s for my trouble.” I smirked.

The girl had burnt orange hair and she giggled, “That’s all you get for your trouble?”

“Oh it’s really no big deal, I’ve done bigger pickups for less.” I swiped my card for the $78.00 order and upon getting to my mom’s car, I instinctively let her know that I’d acquired the goods.

I was starting to fit the role as I fell into a routine and work became second nature. I managed to keep my private life away from my family and was always extra cautious in keeping them safe. Much of my time was spent transporting and making nice with the big fish in the area. Damien and I had become closer too. Close enough in fact that I could call on him to keep the kids safe for short amounts of time in emergency situations.

On one such occasion in late March, I was in the Pony, driving through Biloxi to drop off and pick up in New Orleans. Roselyn called me and said that her grandmother fell and she needed to leave. I didn’t have anyone in the immediate area I could call except Damien and he pulled through. Upon getting home that evening, both Alex and Sophie were sitting with him on the couch, watching cartoons and looking at picture books.

I was surprised and relieved. “Well hey y’all, what did I miss?” I stepped out of my boots and hung my coat up behind the door.

“Not too much, they both ate dinner and we’ve been playing and watching television.” Damien c****d his head back so he could see me. “Wow, you look beautiful.”

“Hey now, not in front of my kids,” I winked, “Can I talk to you?” I gestured to the kitchen. “How would you like a job? I need help from someone reliable. Like a nanny-type situation.”

“Oh? Like, regularly?”

“Do you remember the first night we spent together on the terrace? We talked for hours and you told me about your addiction. I’m anxious about that but you’re doing a great job with my kids. They don’t have a male adult figure in their lives other than my dad.” I leaned in and spoke softly, inches from his face, he seemed to hover over me.

His gaze traced my eyes and lips. He smiled his crooked grin and touched his thumb to my chin. “I would be honored to be at your service.”

A chill crept up my spine, “Why the f**k do you have to be so sexy? It should be illegal. Rude. Damn.” I pressed my hand against his chest and pushed him away.

Why is he so solid?

“So It’s settled, do you need any help with anything, are you hungry?” He winked at me.

“I’m not hungry but I have something you can eat.” My fingers traced his jaw as I began walking away, he followed my touch and visibly shivered.

“Who knows, maybe after the kids fall asleep I just might take you up on that.”

My face flushed at his insinuation and my mouth watered. “Who knows, maybe I’ll have you help me in the kitchen later.”

His steps caught up with mine, both kids had fallen asleep while we were conversing and we each scooped one up to place in their beds. His warm breath lapped at my neck, making my hair stand on end while he whispered, “Maybe I’ll help you in every room of your house.”

My heart skipped a beat. I was more than eager to put the kids in bed and explore the athletic young man who seemed to constantly charm and arouse me.

Sex with Damien was the best I’d ever had. He may have been a touch inexperienced but he was a natural dominant. With his pelvis pressed firmly against mine, a slender hand with a rose tattoo wrapped itself around my throat, thus pinning me against my marble counter. Deep fuschia lips, perked up into a devilish grin and stayed just out of reach of my own. Warm breath brushed my flesh, and not a word formed between us.

The other hand sporting a tattoo of an arrow had found its way between my arm and waist, drawing me nearer. In one fluid motion, he had spun me around on my heels away from him to face the window. Teeth bared down on my shoulder, and my leggings had been pushed down to my knees. His hand gripped the back of my hair and I could hear the smile in his voice when he growled against my ear, salivating at the fact that it was just long enough to pull.

The corners of my mouth crept across my face and I whispered beneath my breath, “I may have to cut it again.”

He yanked back on it so that I’d make eye contact, his d**k hard against my ass, “Now,” the tips of his left fingers traced down my throat to between my breasts, “why would you go and do such a thing like that?” His delicious mouth smothered mine, and my eyes rolled back into my skull.

Remember what I said about pretty boys.

I hardly care right now. Who cares if he’s a heartbreaker? He f***s like a god. Besides, wouldn’t you rather it end in tragedy?

Are you comforted by that thought? Anticipating the end to be awful?

If I know the outcome, then there are no surprises and I can enjoy it to the fullest.

I gasped for air and stumbled. He forced me to lean on the counter with one hand while unbuckling his belt with the other. His black jeans hit the floor, my breath caught, and he let out a hot sigh against my flesh as he penetrated me. He held me steady by grabbing my shoulder and waist, forcing my back to arch. My head fell back and my legs trembled; my nails dug against the counter with each wave of orgasms.

A puddle had formed beneath us and he started to slip. We both giggled, he turned me around and kissed me while backing me into the living room. Damien shoved me facedown on the couch, a chortle escaped me as he fought to get my leggings off. He grabbed me by my throat and hissed for me to shut my mouth. Then as if on cue, Alex walked out of the bedroom.

“Mama, I’m thirsty.” He yawned, a Spiderhero blanket dragging behind him.

“ACK!” Damien snatched the blanket off the back of the couch and covered us up.

I laughed, “Okay buddy give me just a minute, go back to bed and I’ll bring you a drink.” I shoved Damien to the floor while Alex disappeared into my bedroom. I snickered at my half-nude lover and pulled my pants back on. “I guess we will have to finish this up at a later date.” I planted a wet kiss on his lips, lingering for a second or so before making my walk of shame to the kitchen.

I tucked Alex back in with a cup of milk and kissed him goodnight. Within fifteen minutes or so, Damien and I had cleaned up the mess and put a movie on in the living room, then cuddled on the couch. Cuddles turned to snuggles, snuggles to nuzzles, nuzzles to nibbles and kisses, and something that felt a little like love.