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So, like any man should, I decided to take things into my own hands. I loaded up on anything I could find.
Sure, booze was a good fix for a while. After some time, it makes you numb and unsteady. So I tried the harder shit. Speed, uppers, pingers. Those pills got me going.
That’s when I decided to arm myself and get a little gang going. The High Priests. That’s what we called ourselves.
I delivered the sermon. My friends liked to dish out the communion. If you came at us, you’d be sent all the way down to Hell.
Now, of course, I’m just the friendly guy next door. The one who wants to steal that freshly divorced ass. You think I gave a damn about age? Fuck no. With a curv
y body like hers, I’d gladly give her a wet mouth to sit on.
Hell, I’ll become her throne if she wants to be a queen for a day.
This ain’t Arizona. That’s for sure. But I’m starting to get my groundings here. I’m still stuck on that woman’s body.
Hiding out from the law has never been so tantalizing.
2
Caroline
Back to the present…
I can’t believe I finalized the divorce. I escaped.
I did what most women are unable to do. I got out, and he’ll never see me again. No kids, no responsibilities, no worries. It’s up to me to decide what to do next.
I walk outside to smell the fresh desert air. It’s always so nice here in the fall.
I never thought I’d end up so far away from home. As a Pennsylvania girl born and raised, I grew accustomed to the green trees, cold weather, and the waspy attitude the people around me tended to have.
My friends called me lucky. “You have the best life,” they said. But, as it always goes, they had no idea.
The truth was so ugly.
They didn’t know that the nice doctor, my father, was an obsessive gambling addict. They didn’t know of his abusive tendencies.
My friends weren’t there when he spent all my college money on one more game of blackjack. They never saw him hit my mother for trying to get him help.
“You’re so privileged,” they said.
I took that with a grain of salt. Of course, the anger bled through. I started to really believe everything they told me.
When I graduated high school, I tried the whole college thing. I got through most of it, but when I ran out of money, I met him. Ron Smith, my ex-husband. The bastard who tried to rob me of my life, by giving me everything.
I hear the daily call coming from the house next door. “Morning!”
I turn to see my neighbor. That arrogant, cocky bastard who keeps staring at my tits. “You doing okay?” he asks.
I haven’t addressed the guy, yet. To be honest, I thought he would just go away. When I moved in, I was told that people have been renting the house for years. It looks like he just moved in.
Peace and quiet. That’s what was sold to me. Unfortunately, it looks like he’s not going anywhere. He’s practically turned his garage into a mechanic’s wet dream. To me, he’s one big nightmare.
When I don’t answer his calls, he stands up and moves toward the edge of his porch. He’s shirtless again and covered in grease. He’s got his coffee mug and that smile, and when he leans against the wood edge, I feel my heart quicken a little.
“Are you going to just keep ignoring me every morning?” he asks.
“Morning,” I reply back.
