“Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed, for God made man in his own image.” - Genesis 9:16
A hiss escaped me as the hot water of my shower hit sensitive skin. I stood there and took the sting of the water against the open wounds. “She didn’t make it, Father Andrews.” A whip of the flogger against bare skin. “They took her off the list at the last minute.” Another lash cutting sharply into flesh., knees burning from what felt like hours of rubbing against unforgiving hardwood floors. These words repeated in my head accompanied by the sobs of the grieving parents. The beating of leather on my back didn’t stop until my own painful cries drowned the ones in my head. I deserved this. I was the reason their child died.
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Cody: [I had been back for a week. A whole week. I probably had @SkirtsTheLine shitting bricks because I had implied I was headed straight where she didn’t want me after our encounter in her office too. But even my crazy ass knew running straight into the lion’s den with no plan was a bad idea. I’m sure I had way more enemies than friends left now. And if I was honest, I wasn’t sure which side of the fence @WordOnTheRocks fell. Regardless, she was most of the reason I was back. Seeing her was happening. Even if it meant getting my nose broken by her. Or that bat I had left with her. Just the thought had me cringing as I sat tucked down the alley across from the bar.
Honestly, I still didn’t have a great plan that meant I wouldn’t end up bleeding. But I at least was going to make sure that she was the one working when I did finally make my appearance. If I had any chance of someone not shooting me on sight, no questions asked, it was going to be her. Maybe… I had spent every night of the week casing out the bar. Seeing who I could pretty much expect to see in there, when was going to be the best time to show up, and more importantly what nights @WordOnTheRocks was there. All that planning went out the window though, as I watched that cumguzzling prospect flirting with her as she stepped outside for some fresh air on her break. There was a voice in the back of my head that told me I was a dumbass. I should calm down and wait a little longer. Devise a better plan. Figure out something decent to say. But clearly, I had a penchant for making snap decisions that weren’t always the best. “This is the copy room. I make all the photocopies Mr. James requires in here. Do you know how to use one of these machines, dear?” ~I smiled at the older woman, and nodded to her questions, making an effort of jotting down notes of all the things Deloris had shown me. So far this morning, my list consisted of:
Desk. Multi-line telephone with hold button. (the one with red nail polish on it so she didn’t confuse it with the transfer button, which was an unfortunate pinkish brown colour.) Computer. Ergonomic keyboard (to ease Deloris’ flare ups of carpal tunnel.) Coffee room and Deloris’ beloved cat mug. (I was unsure why she’d shown that to me since she promptly indicated she’d be taking it with her while away.) Staff washrooms, both men and ladies. Copy room, with photocopier. As I finished making my note, I smiled politely at her before speaking.~ Everything is pretty self explanatory in here. Maybe now you can show me what it is you do from day to day? So I can get acquainted with how to properly fill in while you are gone. “No one can be the slave of two masters: he will either hate the first and love the second, or be attached to the first and despise the second. You cannot be the slave both of God and of money” Matthew 6:24
I stand at my pulpit, as I do every Sunday, looking over my congregation. Mass is about to end, and they wait on me patiently for the final blessing and dismissal, but I enjoy taking a pause just before, reflecting on the liturgy of the day. Such a faithful flock. Many of the parishioners are very loyal to this church and to me. They come every Sunday without fail, to make reconciliation every week no matter how small or insignificant others may see the sin. It is not my place to judge, only to reassure, counsel, and assign penance if needed. Weather and illness do not stop them. @SkirtsTheLine : ::I was nothing if not stubborn. Which is why I was sitting here staring at the bouquet that @TheLastCallKing had sent to me at the office. “Saturday night. My place.” And if I was completely honest, I wanted to go the second I saw those flowers. But I also knew that the more time I spent with him, the more I would like him. Was I really wanting to get myself to a place where I was vulnerable like that again? What if it ended up being another situation where I was all in, and he kept me at arm’s length?
Then I caught my reflection in the mirror, my face fully healed now. It was a good makeup day too. And just like that I had my excuse. It was too good of a makeup day to waste. A couple of drinks couldn’t hurt too much. Blow off some steam… With that I was up out of my chair. A quick change of my clothes, and a comb through my hair. Then I was in a cab on my way to your place. Ready to take you up on your invite:: @TheLastCallKing : [It had been a rather bold move on my part but time had not been my friend as of late. There was of course the other pressing matter but first I wanted to see you in the flesh to make sure you were the same woman from all those years ago. The same Evie that @WordOnTheRocks considered family until the day when everything went shit and suddenly, you gained a new title. Up to that point, you could have done no wrong in her eyes but the second that ink dried and @OnceWasTaciturn was gone, you had turned into a traitor too. But that was Ivy for you. It was no secret that Ivy and I rarely agreed. My sister didn't forgive easily and as I cleaned another glass, waiting for your arrival, I made sure Tiny ushered the last of my patrons out. After all, we didn't need an audience. This was just a conversation meant for two.] [Looking out over the night sky from my rooftop, it was times like these I wondered if I should have gotten a dog. Not that the guys that showed up to help me unload the truck weren’t friendly enough but could someone really be your friend and loyal if they were on your payroll? Sure they could until the money ran out. Dogs weren’t like people though. Dogs got what they got. There was never any talk of preferences or negotiations as their privilege was checked at the front door with the majority being loyal to a damn fault.
Yeah. Yup. Yep.
That has been my universal answer for everything lately. I figured why change it up when it worked for me this long and considering @TheLastCallKing had been on my ass about the damn appointment for over a month when he texted if I was going to be there for the fifteen time or not, I had substantially lowered my use of the English language to the lone word. And every variation of the word since. With the exception of the use of the word yes flat out, which we all knew was more of a commitment than I cared to offer, I found myself with very little left to say. The countless times I told my brother that I didn't need a fucking head doctor fell on deaf ears with the only rebuttal that I got from him was in the form of a middle finger sky high. Ah, yes, the pitval fuck you to the masses. The use of actual verbiage between us had been reduced to text messages and finger gestures. ::Most public defenders hated being assigned to “The Trenches.” They were the stuffy rooms down in the basement of the courthouse that most PDs did their time in at the beginning of their career. Then as soon as they could get out, jumped at the chance. I preferred The Trenches though. I liked the challenge. And the most disparaged of people usually were down in The Trenches looking for representation. Which meant I’d be making the most difference. At least that’s what I told myself. It certainly wasn’t because they were the ones that I felt the most comfortable around. I had been presented with many opportunities to move to different assignments. But I always passed on them. Maybe someday that would change. But as of right now, I was happy where I was.
Do you know what normal looks like to me? For me, normal was strip clubs on Saturday nights, breakfast at Brooklyn’s Diner on Fifty-Seventh and Broadway on Sunday mornings and my cousin’s place, by Tuesday afternoon.
There was always a new meeting and business to be had. Shipments to be picked up and deals to be completed. Smooth transactions had been the name of our game for a long time now and while my wild antics were questionable at best, for the most part, life as I knew it, didn’t get any better than this. That very way of thinking was what landed me in the position I found myself in today, taking my rightful place in the chair across from my father. It was time we got down to business…Straight down to business I should say as he didn't waste time with pleasantries. "I've set up a new shipment for New York. Another in Florida but I want you solo on this. I'm thinking of sending Tony back home and you down to the keys. You think Tony can handle it alone?" Sure, he was asking my opinion and while I knew I should have said yes, I scrubbed a hand over my hair and chuckled.. New York, I was good with, it was home but Florida? That was new territory, and anything new, I normally did.] He's ready but I think I should head back to New York. ["And why is that? You were just there." He wasn't fooling anybody, let alone me. My father knew exactly why.. However, I couldn't leave the man that raised me waiting long for the answer to that question, no matter how much we both grew tired of the cat and mouse game. <Every Saturday I was in charge of the child volunteers that came into the rescue center. The program was my idea and my baby. Educating tomorrow’s generation to not be assholes that don’t care about animals. And while I generally didn’t like people, kids were okay for the most part. Till they grew up to be adults. While I demonstrated how to properly spray down the kennels to today’s group my phone started ringing. Without thinking I reached behind me, pressing the button to silence it in my pocket so I could continue what I was doing. Only to have it start ringing again. And once again, I reached behind me silencing it. The third time it started ringing, I squeezed the hose in my hand a little tighter than necessary in my growing frustration, temporarily restricting the water flow before I realized what I was doing. Offering the group a big smile, I handed the hose off to one of the older kids in the bunch to give it a try while I stepped to the side, yanking the phone out of my back pocket, the annoyance clear in my voice when I put it to my ear> What? <There was a pause on the other end before a masculine clearing of the throat, “Yes. I’m calling about the red pandas.”
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