7. Chapter 7
I took a shower when we got home, knowing I would feel worse this morning, and I wrapped my ribs. The others were in similar shape, except for Deke’s gunshot wound. I’ll be curious to see how Patrick responds now. If history's any indication, he'll retaliate soon.
Once the edge of the pain's been cut, I gingerly get up and dress for the day. Shuffling to the kitchen, I make toast and coffee before settling on the couch.
Patrick doesn’t surface until lunch, and he looks like shit, which I’m thoroughly enjoying. One eye swollen shut, a broken nose, and many, many bruises. After a cup of coffee, he snorts a line of coke from the dining table. “Want some? Works better than the pain meds.”
“No,” I reply.
When he takes a seat on the sofa, he complains about his treatment last night.
I don’t imagine he’s used to getting the shit kicked out of him these days, and it’s the most I’ve ever heard him talk about Artur and Fitzgerald.
He completely believes he’s entitled to their entire business and profits. Delusional as always.
Apparently, Artur approached him as soon as he was released from prison to join their drug operations.
He was waiting for Patrick right outside the main door when he took his first steps of freedom.
Offering a small crew, a bar to run, and a place to live made it a straightforward choice for Patrick.
That, and access to drugs. They had someone else in his position, but he overdosed shortly before Patrick came into the picture.
I wonder how many people Fitzgerald had on the inside, or if they talked to Patrick directly while he was locked up. I can’t imagine anyone on the inside had a stellar report on his character. Then again, they weren’t looking for an upstanding citizen.
Starting a new job doing the same thing you were imprisoned for wasn’t the smartest choice, but Patrick isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. He must’ve been ecstatic at his condo when he saw it.
It's much nicer than any place we've ever lived in South Carolina.
Our condo growing up was disgusting, not just because of the drugs and women, but it was ancient, dirty, and moldy.
I slept at the small club he had when I was old enough to make my way there from the condo.
Patrick never paid attention to me when I was a kid unless he needed me for something, so I walked there from school every day and slept under his desk at night after he left.
The building was old, but it was locked up tight at night, and there weren't any drugs, people, or trafficked women. It was peaceful there.
Next, he tells me Deke was a major part of his plans to overthrow Artur and Fitzgerald, and he’s pissed about his dominant hand being destroyed. Deke was his choice to help him kill the two, and now he’s left without a wingman. He's not altering the timeline, despite his messed-up plans.
A knock at the door has Patrick telling me to get up and answer it. Two young women with heavy makeup are waiting, and I step aside when they ask for Patrick. Seems he wanted help to feel better.
By the time I grab a water bottle from the fridge and return to the living room, one woman is giving him a blow job while the other is doing a strip dance without music.
Fuck, more mental scars. I go to my room and shut the door. Lying on my bed, I try to get some rest while Patrick enjoys himself. We won’t be going into work anytime soon.