Chapter 6. Glenn
CHAPTER 6
Glenn
The Day After the Flight
Where the fuck was Jasmine? I had known something was up the second I turned into our gravel driveway the night before. Starving for that steak after an afternoon of ripping carpet, I couldn’t wait for dinner, a few beers, some fooling around if I felt like it, and bed.
But the trailer was dark. Slamming the car into park, I stormed inside, where it was cold and silent and obvious that no cooking had been done. Looking around the bedroom, I suddenly noticed a rolling suitcase was gone and some of her clothes too. My red flannel was also missing. I hadn’t paid attention to see if anything was amiss in the morning. I had believed her texts. How could I be so stupid? There was no note now, no text, no call, nothing.
The bitch couldn’t be far. She had no money. If it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t even have a roof over her head. I paid for groceries, gas, heat, water, electricity, everything. She gave me money for household expenses, but she didn’t make shit at the bar. Plus, she didn’t have a car. There was no way she was too far gone.
I started by calling her. She didn’t pick up, so I left a voice mail. If she was still pissed because I had squeezed her arm hard the night before, maybe she would come right back and make that steak if I sweet-talked her, so my first message was nice. I told her I’d change my ways and I loved her. Sometimes I truly thought I would change. I had tried a few times, but it never lasted long because she always pissed me off with something she did or said, and that little devil in me would come out. It wasn’t my fault. In fact, it was her fault for making me angry and bringing out the devil.
When she didn’t respond to the first voicemail, I started leaving more. I had to make a frozen pizza and eat that, not at all satisfied with my dinner. The devil was rising in my chest with each minute. I downed some vodka, smoked some pot, left more messages—each getting nastier—and eventually passed out on the couch.
In the morning, I had a pounding headache and was doubly pissed. A person doesn’t disappear. It had to be Anna helping her. There was no other explanation. I knew Anna and Jasmine had been friends for a long time. I think they even went to high school together, although which high school, I had no idea. I didn’t pay attention to ancient history like that.
So I started leaving voicemails for Anna too. Now she was texting me back saying she didn’t know where Jasmine was. Maybe she did or maybe she didn’t, I couldn’t tell, but what if Jasmine was right there, peeking at my texts over Anna’s shoulder and laughing? The thought of the two of them laughing at me made me so infuriated that I picked up a water glass and hurled it across the room, watching with glee as it smashed against the wall, right next to the hunting rifle that was hanging on two hooks. The pieces of glass shattered all over the floor. I wasn’t planning to clean it up unless I had to, though. I’d rather step over glass than get a broom and sweep.
The hunting rifle caught my eye. It was a classic piece my dad had given me and his dad had given him, and it seemed to be calling me over to it. Walking to the wall and crunching my boots on the glass, I lifted it off and blew air on it to get the dust off. I used to hunt a lot, but it had been some years. The barrel felt strong and solid. Bringing it to my eye, I looked down the sight line and pointed it around my trailer, enjoying the power I felt with it in my hands, the dominance, the control. The same feeling I had when I bagged a buck or a pheasant.
Anna and Jasmine lying to me came to mind again. The thought of me regaining power over these two bitches filled me with elation. No female was going to outsmart me. I also had a handgun under the seat of my pickup truck. Jasmine didn’t know about that one. I had never told her. Some things were better as my little secret. But maybe it was time she found out. Depending on how this all went down, perhaps Jasmine and Anna would become very familiar with both of my guns.