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Chapter 2

Dallas

My stomach hurt from laughing so hard at my new-found friend and sister, Punkin. The kids had been put to bed, only after I had read three stories to Logan, not such an easy task when your mind is fogged by an abundance of alcohol; the food was put away, and everyone was ushered into the clubhouse for an adult party that I was in dire need of. I was on my fifth drink, a Red special, and had to take precautions when I took a sip, in fear of Punkin saying something funny that would lead me to spray liquid onto everyone around me. I had recently learned that Punkin was Possum’s ol’ lady and I was quickly reassured that they had an open relationship, although I nearly died when I remembered a very happy Possum getting a blow job only weeks before. Punkin was in her early fifties, and had spent the last twelve years of her life serving out a manslaughter sentence in the Central Mississippi Correctional Facility for Women. I was alarmed at first, but found myself a cheerleader for the defense team when I learned that she had killed her abusive husband. I didn’t really agree with the way she had gone about it, stabbing him forty-seven times in his sleep, but who the hell was I to judge? After twelve years of good behavior, and numerous therapy sessions, we now had a fully reformed Punkin, who loved peppermints, Sprite, and a biker named Possum.

“I’m telling you, I jumped in that twenty-three degree water without a second thought. I was high as a kite while I’ll was runnin’ from the police, but I was sober as a judge after I hit the bottom of that river. I lost my fuckin’ shoe and everything. Them motherfuckers didn’t get me though.” I laughed through my drink and my attempts at not spraying it failed, as I laughed harder at, a now covered-in-Red-Bull-and Vodka, Red. “You just can’t make this shit up,” Punkin informed us, oblivious to our laughing, as she sat wringing her hands. Her cigarette, which I noted had never been pulled from the corner of her mouth, dangled loosely with each word she spoke. Red leaned over, wiping the drink from the front of her shirt, and offered Punkin an ashtray. When she refused with a wave of her hand, I laughed louder. I stood, clutching my aching ribs, and left the conversation in search of the bathroom. I thought of how strangely amazing my life had become, and considered how crazy it had been for me to encounter a group of bikers, never knowing that one day I would be a part of that group. I, along with so many others, had assumed that all bikers were trashy, dope-dealing, unemployed felons, whose main mission in life was to break the law and intimidate people. If someone had told me that I would one day be sharing drinks and conversation with a woman named Punkin, who was the ol’ lady of a biker named Possum, I would have laughed in their face. It’s funny how shit works out. I looked up to find a red-faced Marty exiting the hall that leads to the bathroom. His crimson face deepened when he saw me.

“Oh, hey, Dallas. Having fun?” I had said all of my hellos, and had received all my welcome home hugs, hours ago, yet Marty still looked surprised to see me.

“Hey, Marty. You okay?” I asked, eyeing him warily.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Just checking the bathrooms. It’s hard to get over that PROSPECT phase once you have been in it so long.”

“I bet. How long did you PROSPECT?”

“Three hundred and eighty-six days,” he said without blinking. Damn, did he have a reminder or something?

“I have an app on my phone. It tells me. That’s not something you wanna forget if one of the patch-holders asks you. Ya know?” I smiled at his uneasiness, and attempts to distract me with conversation.

“I do now. So, are the bathrooms safe?” I asked, gesturing down the hall with my hand.

“Oh, yes. Of course. They’re all yours,” he said with a tight smile. I noticed a thin line of sweat break out on his forehead, and was about to again ask him if he was okay, but he got in ahead of me as I opened my mouth to do so.

“Gotta go. I’ll see ya around, Dallas. Good to have you back.” He all but ran away from me, leaving me to wonder what in the hell his problem was. I walked to the ladies’ room, pushing the heavy wooden door open to find a radiant Maddie on the other side.

“Hey!” She said with a surprise. What the fuck was up with everyone being so surprised to see me? I had started to ask, when realization suddenly slapped me in the face.


Tags: Kim Jones Saving Dallas Erotic