This is chapter 2 of a book that should really be posted to another page. But that page isn’t working, so it’s getting posted here.
Low Road first-draft novel that I completed in 2015. I’m just now getting around to editing it. It’s not a very good work, but out of respect to the only novel I’ve ever written, it deserves to be completed.
Here’s the results…
The truck wouldn’t start. I don’t know if it was the cold, or I left a light on or what, but the battery died. Sean, my piss-ant older brother, had to pick me up.
Sean was a dick. I think that he thought that I was the privileged one. He was a shift manager at one of the chicken plants. For a while, he was trying to get me a job there. I’d rather slit my own throat rather than that of a chicken’s. I didn’t really like talking to him. As long as I kept paying the rent, we were able to manage our differences.
“Dad called, he wants you to stay with him for a while”, Sean said.
“I don’t want to go to Little Rock. It’s a shithole”, I replied.
“Well, how much money have you made this week?”
“$700! So go fuck yourself!”
“Doing what? There’s no way you made that gambling.”
“I write too!”
“You’re a cheater, not a writer. You cheat for people. Is that how you want to earn your living?”
“What do you do for a living?”
He knew he had a shitty job.
“What the hell were you doing last night?” Sean asked
“I got drunk, and I fucked.”
We pulled up to our house. It’s a small house. About 1600 square feet. It’s not far out of town, about two miles outside of Grove. The back yard is off someone’s farm. Cows would often come up to the fence and stare at us while they pissed and shit. It’s was a dump, but I liked it out there. Sean pulled into the driveway where he let me out. He had to return to work.
I went inside.
The house smelled like Sean’s girlfriend. I walked passed his bedroom and noticed a pair of dirty old panties. She must have left not long ago. I contemplated taking a nap, but made coffee instead. I had to get to writing. A few of my old buddies at UT had end of the semester assignments that I was writing. That’s how I got kicked out of that hellhole…doing rich kid’s homework. And now I was now getting paid MORE for it.
I hated to call myself a writer. It was too pretentious for me. However, a few kids have earned their degrees under my pen. One girl got her MFA due to a novella I wrote. It got her a B, which was enough for her to graduate. But it pissed me off. I worked my ass off.
I was just trying to make a living off my abilities.
I dragged my tired ass across the old brown carpet into my room. I sat in front of the computer. Easiest $300 I ever made. Rich kids will throw their money at anything.
Around dark, I began looking at some porn. I stretched my mind trying to remember the name of the girl at the casino. After I got off, it came to me: Taryn. Thank God.
Sean came home later that evening. We replaced the battery in the truck and I let him do most of the work. I figured that since I was in the casino parking lot, I might as well go in. I went straight for the bar. I ordered a whiskey. I didn’t know if I wanted to play at a table. It was Saturday night…. amateur night.
I thought about it.
I finished my whiskey. I ordered another. After I finished my third drink, I decided to go for it. Then Taryn entered the bar. I got flustered. To be honest, I’m not sure I took a shower that day. But she positioned herself near my corner of the bar. She was dressed more conservatively…this time sporting a tight black t-shirt supporting a famous band.
“Do you ever leave?” She asked.
I struggled to find something to say. “This is how I make money”. I replied. But that was bullshit.
“So you’re a professional gambler?”
“In some ways.”
“Make much money?”
“Do you make enough to buy me a drink?”
“Tequila?” I asked. But she declined and selected a beer. I managed to remain sober enough throughout our conversation. Or at least I tried. But when she asked me if I lived alone, I got slightly aroused. She could have meant anything by it. Thankfully, I was able to not say anything stupid.
I asked her where her friends were. She claimed that they all wanted to stay home… but SHE wanted to get trashed.
Despite this, I only enjoyed Taryn’s company for a few minutes. She disappeared to wherever. By the time she was gone, I was unable to control my urges. I promised myself that I wasn’t going to contact Jeanne. At least not for a few days. But I pulled out the business card. I shot her a quick text.
I gave up the notion of gambling and drank some more. Jeanne sent me a text. We wrote back and forth for several minutes. But I sat at the bar and sulked.
The next morning I woke up in the cab of my truck. I was still in the casino parking lot. I looked at my phone and notice several texts from Jeanne. I didn’t recall writing any of it. She also sent a few pictures of her and her vibrator. At that moment, Jeanne called.
“Morning sexy. Did you make it home alright?”
“Yeah, sleep well?”
“Mmmhmm, when can I see you again?”
We agreed to meet at a winery in Miami. I went home and rested up. I figured that I should dress up because she was, after all, a bank executive. I pulled into the parking lot in my shit mobile. Jeanne was standing there on the deck. She was wearing a form-fitting black skirt and white top. In her heels, she was nearly as tall as me.
I greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. She, in turn, gave me a full on kiss and grabbed my ass.
“Why do they always make these places so small?” I asked.
The waiter came over and offered us the menu. I didn’t know shit about wine but I settled on the Chardonnay. Jeanne went with the Merlot. The waiter brought the beverages and a plate of cheese.
“You never told me what you did”, Jeanne asked.
“I’m an advisor for college students.”
“I’m an independent advisor. I help kids become better writers.”
“You mean a tutor?”
“Well, not exactly. I write papers for students, for a fee.”
“So students pay you to help them cheat?”
“I wouldn’t say that. I’ll write stories, books, and many different type of academic papers.”
“So…you’re a writer?”
“I don’t know if I’d say that either.”
It didn’t appear that Jeanne gave a shit about what I did. After a few glasses of wine, Jeanne was obviously drunk. The owner came out to greet us. She was a little bit younger than Jeanne, striking blue eyes, probably Italian. She obviously enjoyed her own wine as much as Jeanne. I eventually started feeling like a third wheel. The cackling of the two began to embarrass me.
“So Jeanne, I see that you bagged yourself a younger gentleman.”
“Oh yes, he’s quite the catch.”
I formally introduced myself. I probably had a bit too much of the brandy-infused wine. When I shook her hand, I held it probably longer than socially acceptable.
“So you’re 24 years old. I would have guessed older. Are you balding?”
That took me down a notch. I slumped back into my seat and switched wine to water. The two ladies continued their chatter amongst themselves.
We left two hours later. I was sober enough to drive by then. I left my truck at the winery. A few miles down the road, Jeanne started feeling my crotch. She unzipped my pants. I believe that this was the first time I received road head. I climaxed at 55 mph.
When we made it back to her house, we had way more adventurous sex than the first time around. She also claimed that she got off multiple times, more than she ever had in her entire life
I knew that this was a lie. Not that I cared.