Show me I was not his boss. Hell, I wasn’t even his equal.
He did this to prove I was beneath him.
And the worst fucking part of all of this was the fact that I wasn’t just covered in his come.
I was soaked…in my own.
CHAPTER FOUR
Judas
Did I feel bad?Nah…
But Randy looked like a spent little whore when I walked out of the warehouse. Covered in come, and soiling his pants.
‘And he jizzed his pants,’I sang in my mind.
I snickered, the song lyrics curling around me like smoke, as I bumped into shit on my way down the alleyway. My mind created a whole new world, and ‘this mermaid’ couldn’t differentiate half the damn time what was real.
I was a self-proclaimed asshole, and part of the reason was simply that I didn’t bother playing ‘real-or-cake’ before continuing forward. It made for some pissy Karens, hissing bitch ass cats with sensitive tails, and bruises from walls when fighting back. But this had been my life so long I didn’t know anything else.
The alleyway was a piece of shit. It was worse than the prison, and I wondered how the fuck anyone actually lived here. Didn’t homeless people freeze their dick off?
I guess Texas wasn’t known for blizzards, but that didn’t mean the jewels didn’t get cold in the rain and the gods’ hissy fits.
Thunder is god’s farts. Rain is getting a handy from an angel annnnnnd natural disasters are just the asshole angels throwing a tantrum over their daddy being the big cheese.
I rolled my eyes, ignoring the demons as they whispered in my brain. I was busy. I had a task. A task that the thoroughly mouth fucked man in the warehouse would castrate me for doing. I had to do this for him. The entire year of snooping in his life couldn’t be ignored, the pain resonating in those walls like the ghosts in my noggin. It was too much for the ‘distinguished’ try-hard that Randall King forced himself to be.
I was a piece of shit, but I had to see if at least one of my exit plans was effective. Before I set out to grovel at the silver city, I came here to a small, little hovel of a collection of homeless people. We got along well enough, though I wasn’t exactly loved here.
People were afraid of me no matter where I went. Hell, I killed people without even realizing it. It was right to be a bit spooked by a broken marionette, wondering when the little devil would go possessed doll on everyone. Too bad I couldn’t pull off red hair.
“Judas?”
I waited to respond, calculating if this was a demon. They looked real enough, holding a hoodie overhead to avoid the rain pelting down. The bridge above our heads hummed every time a car went over it.
The vast distance of my height was little compared to the vibration it created for everyone under the giant’s protection. The homeless were scattered around the broken tires, tents, and self-made boxes serving as shelters, littering the area.
A big trash can was lit with some newspaper, and the majority of the people I knew crowded around the illumination, murmuring soft conversations to one another.
The woman in front of me was old, like grandma’s diaper old. She didn’t seem fragile, though. Something told me if I tried to mess with her, I’d lose a nut. I narrowed my eyes, leaning my head down to the female.
So fucking short.
Damn, this lady made my neck hurt how far I had to lean down even to see the top of her gray head.
This is how Gee feels with Zee?
“Judas Masters?” she said again, in a more mom tone now, less curious.
I bowed my head and saluted her, not feeling like speaking in case she wasn’t real after all.
“My name is Judith. I have the information and the requested package. Please go to the back area by the junkyard to retrieve your parcel.”
Hmm. A year. A fucking year it took for this bitch to respond to me? She thinks she can just pop up a year later and give me what I want? Ha.
“Also. I am sorry, but there is still no trace of a Taliah Masters. My team and I continue daily to search for her.”
