Misfit(247)

Do you want to die or not?

The question taunted her. She didn’t want to die. She wanted Johnnie. She loved him, but she didn’t know how to show it. He always ruined his lessons on love by cutting betrayal. Staying friends with Meggie, when a part of him would never stop loving her. Sending Kendall away, when things got too rough.

Wiping her nose on her forearm, Kendall stared at the pills. Instead of killing herself, she needed to get rid of this unwanted baby. Johnnie told her, more than once, to abort it. Aborting it would be too easy. He wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t love her again.

Filled with new determination, Kendall got her phone and sent Cash a text. Where am I?

While she awaited his answer, she dug through her purse. After Cash declined to help her, she’d asked Charlotte to discover the name of Cash’s supplier. Each of their files had so many different names, with no identifying titles. Working at the firm, she’d made sure to stay up-to-date on Johnnie and Christopher’s information. But Cash’s? Luckily, Brooks did know and gave it to Charlotte.

Charlotte! Kendall sniffled as she thought of her friend’s heartache at losing everything, including her beloved son-in-law. Oh God!

No. If she focused on that, she’d fall into a deep depression that she’d never pull herself out of.

She had to get those pills. Then, she’d call Johnnie and sob out her misery of losing their baby. If he cared at all for her, he’d come. Then, she’d have her Johnnie back and, possibly, her happiness.





Awaiting Brooks to bring him up-to-date on the status of his case, Christopher sat in his office at the club. A week had passed since the fiasco of the christening planning and he hadn’t set eyes on Fee, in spite of Megan and Zoann being after him to do so. Maybe, he was being an unfair motherfucker, but Fee had been the same.

All the fuck she needed to do was tell his ass Kendall had stopped taking her meds. If she wanted to hide Cash and Stretch from him, oh-fucking-well. Not that she hid them motherfuckers too good. Christopher had long suspected they fucked. It was Megan who convinced him to give them a chance.

Now that he thought about it, he realized Cash had been acting differently for a while. Christopher had just been too focused on what the motherfucker had done to see what the fuck he was doing. Perception was a motherfucker.

Megan told him all about the scene at Fee’s apartment. When Fee ended up back at his house, it hadn’t been because of Noah, although he didn’t doubt she’d met Counts by then. It had been because Cash was a yellow-bellied, spineless assfuck. That Christopher could take. He’d even share in the fucking responsibility, but knowing about Kendall’s bullshit and holding it in was all on Fee.

His little pain-in-the-ass motherfucker pointed out that she’d hidden her knowledge about Fee’s relationship with Cash and Stretch. She challenged him to be as angry with her as he was with Fee. Of course, he couldn’t do that. Megan’s actions didn’t affect their marriage.

“Christopher,” Johnnie said, barging into the office and interrupting his thoughts. “Brooks showed up yet?”

“Do you see the motherfucker, motherfucker?”

“Not that motherfucker,” Mort said, following Johnnie in and pointing to Val. “But this motherfucker showed up to be nosy.”

“You ain’t bein’ nosy, Mort?”

Mort grinned. “Nope. Just showing some support, Prez.”

“Seein’ if you have another job, yeah?” Christopher guessed. If Brooks didn’t have good news for him, he was fucking him up and Mort would have to dispose of him.

“I fuck Brooks up,” Johnnie argued. “On behalf of you and Kendall.”

“Only if he ain’t found a fuckin’ way to keep my ass outta fuckin’ prison.”

“Knock, knock,” Brooks said timidly, tipping through the open doorway. Unlike the designer suits he once wore, his mismatched plaid pants and striped shirt was kinda fucked-up.

“You fuckin’ late.”

Brooks whimpered.

Scared fucking pussy.

“I-I-I’m sorry. I-I-I had a problem reaching…” Cringing, Brooks snapped his mouth shut, his eyes darting around the room. “I-I-I mean…”

“Not that, huh, brother?” Mort asked. “That’s the shit you said when Prez was locked up.”

“How about you change that script?” Johnnie suggested. “Before I have your eyeball delivered to Charlotte in a ring box?”

Johnnie hadn’t revealed where he’d sent Charlotte and Christopher hadn’t bothered to ask. For all he cared, the bitch could’ve been encased in concrete and sent to the bottom of a fucking river. Stretch had told him how she’d talked to Megan and Christopher would never fucking forgive her.