Daddy, I Need A New Mommy!

"Aw, my back hurts!" Gracey roared painfully, reclining in the car seat to get some rest. She was done putting her jammies on, but a loud thud slithered through her ears. She was exhausted from her three part-time jobs, and the last thing she wanted to do was hit the sack. However, someone out there was trying to disturb her peaceful night. Annoyed, she peeked through the window and noticed a tall guy taking a leak on the side of her lovely car-the part where she was gawking. "Oh, my god! What did I just see?!" Gracey gasped and slid down the driver's seat. She covered her mouth as if the guy could hear her. Sure, she had seen several photos of excaliburs from the smutty websites, but seeing them alive and kicking was one hell of a surprise! Thank goodness her car was heavily tinted! "Get a grip, Gracey!" she chastised herself, gently slapping her cheeks. She knew she was as red as a ripe tomato now! She shifted against her seat, aiming to see his face. But then the guy was tall, almost hovering over her white Mini Cooper. She glued her face against the glass window and saw a dragon tattoo on his left hand. "Of all the cars, why piss on mine, you pervert?!" She shrieked, gritting her teeth, and fisting her knuckles into balls. "Should I go out and cut his mushroom?" That ain't no mushroom, b***h! The little voice in her head argued. Then she remembered the news that was circulating online. Lumberge suburb had a safe community, but recently there were reports about a serial rapist causing bedlam in the vicinity. The case of the missing women has not been solved. And the very thought made her more anxious. Despite having a black belt in karate, Gracey knew a perp would always be a perp. It would surely be a cutthroat match. So instead, she dialed the emergency hotline to ask for a rescue. But low and behold, the guy promptly pounded the window as if trying to break the glasses. "s**t! Come on, pick it up...!" She anxiously mumbled while waiting for the operator to answer. After some rings, the call finally connected... "911, what's your emergency?" The operator asked from the other line. "Yeah, um... There's a creep trying to break into my car." "Can you tell me your location, please?" "544 West Avenue, Athena Parking Space." "Okay, ma'am," the operator said and continued, "is he armed? Like carrying a gun or something?" Gracey made a swift glance at the guy and answered, "I don't see anything, but I'm sure he's drunk." "All right. Please stay on the line, ma'am." "Oh, gosh. I guess he is trying to botch my door!" "I need you to stay calm, ma'am. The cops are on their way to help you." The operator said in a polite but stern manner. "Hold on a sec, miss. I need to find something to bar the door." "Hello, ma'am? Ma'am...?" Gracey tossed the cellphone on the dashboard. She knew her bolts were secured, but she couldn't help but turn paranoid as the tension intensified. Heaving a deep breath, she reached for the baseball bat, ready to aim for an attack, when the guy hastily pulled his zipper up and sluggishly stumped towards the road. She slowly rolled the window down and watched him shuffle away. She breathed out a sigh of relief and then rested her head against the leather seat. She could feel her hands trembling against the bat. "Thank God. He's gone," she whispered with her eyes closed. "Hello, ma'am. Are you still there?" Gracey slowly opened her eyes and fumbled for the gadget. "Yeah...," she replied. "Are you okay? Did he attack you?" The operator worriedly asked. "Yes, I'm good," she said, referring to the first question. "Anyway, the man is not here anymore." She heard the sirens from afar and said, "The cops are here. Thank you, miss." Shortly after, Gracey told the officers about the fiasco. It was almost midnight when she felt the urge to go to sleep. She was trying to fight it, but her tired eyes gave up afterward. ____ Gracey woke up to streaks of light beaming through the windows of her car. It was Sunday, and she had to attend the mass. She was excited to seeing Brando again. She missed him so much. She folded the duvet before putting it on top of the pillows. Yawning, she crawled out of the car and stretched her arms sideways. "Last night was rough. That nutso gave me a headache. Ugh!" She said, massaging her temples. She turned to the right but was startled by a pair of long legs lying on the ground. She slowly followed the trail and saw a man spread-eagle on the hood of her car. The man was snoring while his semi-long hair was covering his face. "SERIOUSLY?! How many times do I have to deal with crazy winos?" She rolled her eyes heavenward. "I don't deserve this!" She used to jive with various sickos daily, but this was too much. She couldn't forgive another psycho on the loop! "Who are you? And what are you doing here in my humble abode, hm?" She checked his pockets, hoping to find clues to his identity. A wallet, a phone, or whatever, but there was nothing. Empty. Then her gaze flew to his hand. She gritted her teeth upon seeing familiar ink on his left hand. I knew it! He's the perv from last night! The cops didn't collar him, she inwardly thought. She wondered what kind of authority this nitwit had, causing the police not to track him down. "It's payback time. I should charge him for violating my baby and for ruining my good night's sleep!" She scratched her scalp as she paced back and forth, thinking of what to do. Later, she decided to flip him over on his back, and the man groaned inwardly. "What time is it, Martina?" His voice slurred, but it was kind of sexy, though. "Martina, who?" Gracey made a face. She was pensive. Is he referring to his wife? His girlfriend, perhaps? The hell with that b***h! All she needed from him was moolah. Minutes later, the man fluttered one eye open, looked at her, and then went back to sleep again. He was damn wasted! "This guy is unbelievable! Should I report him to the authorities?" She sighed and leaned on the passenger door. "Oh, no, no. That's not a great idea." She shook her head. It had not been a day since she called the police, so she had to solve this on her own. She tried to drag him away from the hood, but he was too heavy for her. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and glared at him. "Did he drink the whole barrel? He was as heavy as a log!" She stepped backward, but her hand rested flat on the hood as if getting enough strength from it. She was about to do it again when the bastard spoke. His baritone voice almost gave her a heart attack. "I need water." He managed to reach her pinky, but Gracey pulled her hand back and kicked his legs. "I'm not your maid. Go get it yourself!" "Cold water, Martina. My throat is f*cking dry." The man kept on groaning and hissing softly. "I'm not giving you any," Gracey scoffed. "W-Water... please..." Gracey aimed for his torso. She drew some punches at it, but the guy suddenly laughed. Gracey pulled his hair from behind, tugging his head backward. "Oh, fuck... I love it when you go wild, Martina." He let out a nasty chuckle, and his index finger lifted in the air. "Oh, yeah? Bad news, I'm not Martina, mister perv!" She was about to punch him again when the man rolled onto his stomach. His unkempt hair glided down to his prominent jaws. Then he slowly scooted on the hood, his arms falling sideways. "For the record, I'm not a pervert." "After you paraded your fat dude last night? No, thanks." "I did what? Look, I was drunk and..." He sighed frustratedly. "I didn't know I would end up here. I had no recollection of what happened." "Even the part where you pissed on my baby?" His forehead scrunched, pointing to the car. "You mean this crummy junk?" "The only junk here is you. Get away from Rover!" Gracey used her remaining strength to pull him out of her auto. She got a cloth and wiped the hood. Her car holds a lot of memories. It witnessed all her ups and downs. She had lost everything, but Rover was the last piece of memory related to her mother. "Look, I didn't mean to offend you, miss..." "But you did," she snarled, not looking at him. "The damage is done." Clint raked his fingers against the strands of his hair before letting out a tired huff. "Fine. Let's have a deal," he said, getting the woman's attention back. Gracey turned her head, meeting his striking blue eyes. Her heart fluttered at the full sight of him in broad daylight. She stood five-feet-tall, yet she felt like a dwarf under his towering figure. His eyes... Why did it seem familiar? Have I met him before? "Hello? I'm talking to you, missy." "Gracey. That's my name." She corrected him. "All right, Gracey. As I was saying-" "Pay me, and we're good," she interrupted, narrowing her eyes into slits. Clint chuckled boastfully and replied, "Sure. People like you are always on for the love of money." "I guess we're on the same boat." She shrugged. Clint clicked his tongue. "Don't you know me?" "Do I have to?" She raised a brow while her arms went akimbo. "Just so you know, I am Clint Hashbrown. The owner of the-" "Blah, blah, blah. I know you're just making this up. Pay me and leave; that's it." Clint held his breath as his brows threaded together. No one had ever crossed the line to intimidate him this way. Least of all, a woman! He was getting on his nerves! He fished for his cellphone in his trousers pocket, but he couldn't find it. "Did you steal my phone?" "What? Why would I do that?!" Gracey shot back heatedly. "It's not here," he replied in a flat tone. "Not my problem." Gracey shrugged. Clint huffed a large, frustrated breath. He must've dropped it somewhere. How could he redeem himself now? He looked at Gracey and asked, "Can I pay you some other time? My wallet is not here either." "No!" She adamantly hissed and stretched a hand forward. "Money down." Clint nodded slowly. He had a handful of ways to compensate for the damage, but he chose to do the best one. "Fine. But we have to grab a bite first." Before Gracey could answer, he tugged on her wrist and dragged her to god-knows-where.