Brando
brANDO
I blow out a breath as I reach for a piece of toilet paper and rub the cum off the head of my cock.
I had to relieve some of the tension I’ve been feeling since I crossed state lines, and this was the only way I knew how.
Besides, the chances that Parker is even going to look twice at me are slim to none, so I have to get my kicks somehow.
As I walk out of the stall, I head over to the sink to wash my hands with the drop of soap left in the dispenser, then dry them with what’s left of the paper towels. Once I’m good, I toss the crumpled up ball into the garbage can, smiling when it sinks straight in.
“Two points,” I say softly as I walk out of the men’s restroom and head out into the building again.
I purse my lips when I see the old man is still there, moving from one foot to the other, still trying to figure out the large map of North Carolina in front of him. I walk over and stand next to him for a few seconds before I give him a sideways glance.
“Where ya headed?” I ask him.
“Well,” he begins, his tone wrought with age, “I’m trying to get to Brunswick, and I’m not sure I’m heading the right way.”
I nod as I suck my teeth and take a step forward, resting the tip of my left forefinger against the map. “You’re not far out of the way, just follow this path,” I pause to drag my finger down the map, glancing at him again to make sure he’s paying attention, “and in a few hours, you should get there.” I punctuate my instructions by letting my fingertip rest against the town’s name.
The old man nods and turns to face me, hand extended. I take his and grin at how firmly he shakes my hand. “Thank you, young man. It’s nice to see that there are still good people out there willing to help. You have a good day, and drive safely.”
My hands slide into my pocket as he exits the building. I don’t mean to stand there and just stare at his back before he disappears, but I’m kind of stupefied that someone thinks I’m a good person.
No one has ever said that to me before. Usually, I’m ignored or avoided, or told that I’m no good, though no one except my father has laid that last one on me.
I roll my eyes and chuckle as I tap the plastic case with a closed fist, then start making my way back out into the dark, night sky.
As I wander up the now quiet path back to the parking lot to my car, I smirk.
Good people don’t have the thoughts that I have, and they sure as shit let sleeping dogs lie.
If the old man knew what I was up to now, he would more than likely hop into his fancy little sports car that he bought for his sugar baby and try his best to catch up to me. Of course, knowing that he has “interests” outside of his marriage has always been something I can, and have, used against him to keep him out of my life.
But this… what I’m doing now… it’ll tear everyone’s perfect little families apart. The reunions won’t be worth shit unless gossip holds a high price. The Sunday brunches that the old hags like to have to “catch up on life” will more than likely be spent in stunned silence, and that’s fine.
Because what I choose to do with my life, with the one that got away, is not anyone’s business but mine.
Even if she decides against it.