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"Well we’re almost on the street now, aren’t we because you’re so fucking bad with money?" Colt asks, this time his voice loud enough that people around us are turning to look. "Shit man. You need to calm the fuck down. This isn’t even about the money, is it? It’s about Karen."
"Not everything is about her," I say, my fists balling as I sit there.
"You’re just pissed because I’m fucking her night and day," he says, leaning over to me. "Oh yeah, we fucked before we got here. She’s probably going to the bathroom to wipe off my cum that’s dripping out of her. She’s probably using her fingers to scoop it out and lick it clean."
I start to see red.
But I start to get hard.
"So don’t try to fuck with me, old man," Colt tells me. "You’re 39. I’m 22. I got way more than you."
"I don’t need to fuck with you, Colt," I say to him. "I just need to exercise my right as a executor of the trust and you’ll see what little power you have."
"Don’t you fucking dare," Colt seethes. "Don’t you go decide on your own."
"Or what, Colt? You’re going to punch me?"
He shakes his head, "Nah man. I’ll just tell you all about how I fuck Karen and fuck with your head even more."
I don’t know why I say it. But I do.
"I’ve already been there, Colt," I tell him. "I fucked your sister. And she was good. And all that cum you think she’s licking out of her puss? She did it all with me. First."
The waitress comes over and hesitates for a minute. It’s clear that I’m making a scene.
That’s when Colt punches me.
I’m not surprised.
I take it on the chin.
And I punch back hard.
At his fucking nose.
I hear bones crunching – I don’t know if it’s him or me.
But in a moment, we’re tumbling on the ground. Our chairs are knocked over. Our table has shattered.
"What the fuck are you guys doing!" a voice yells and I can tell its Karen.
I look up.
She’s looking at us in shock.
"Colt! Daniel!" she yells to us. But Colt is getting off of me, as I give him a shove.
We could both keep hitting each other a bit longer. Take out some of the stress.
But we don’t have the option to.
"You both need to leave," the hostess is glaring at me. Her eyes are angry. I guess she doesn’t want to fuck me anymore. "Now."
Karen has already turned her back to us and begun exiting the restaurant.
Two men in suits – security – come and escort us from the restaurant.
My jaw aches, and it’s obvious I’ve made things worse.
