Chapter Twenty-Five – Christopher #2
“What the fuck they teach you in school?” Christopher said in frustration, resenting Axel’s read. Especially since he was right. “It’s exclude. And I’m her fuckin’ husband. Excludin’ me a given.”
“Not,” Axel retorted. “You don’t get to change the fucking rules ‘cause you acted like a fucking jackass.”
“You got one more fucking time to curse my ass and disrespect me.”
Axel backed out of Christopher’s reach and folded his arms. “By the time you get your broken ass up, I’ll be upstairs. And by the time you get to my room, that motherfucker’ll be locked and barricaded. And by the time tomorrow comes, you will have forgotten we even had this conversation.”
“You act like I’m a senile old motherfucker.”
“You’re all three. Notice, Dad. I didn’t call you a senile old motherfucker. You called yourself that. You have one more chance.” He curled his index finger up and down. “One.”
“Or what?” he demanded again.
“Never mind,” Axel huffed.
“Yeah, I thought not.”
“I’m done trying to reason with you,” Axel announced and turned on his heel. “Be right back,” he tossed over his shoulder.
Christopher didn’t want fucking coffee anymore.
He had half a mind to leave before Axel returned.
Except the little motherfucker was right.
By the time he reached the fucking staircase, Axel could’ve made two circuits around the first floor.
Instead of a shower, maybe he’d soak in Megan’s bathtub.
He only ever got in it with her, but the jets might soothe him.
He was almost certain he was black and blue.
Roxanne laid down the fucking law. When…if…when Megan returned, he’d keep himself in line. Her lesson, leaving him, would stay with him forever. But Roxanne’s ass-beating? Yeah, he’d take that shit to his grave, too.
“I made coffee for both of us,” Axel announced, carrying two glasses and returning to Christopher’s side. “It’s iced coffee with whipped cream.”
He set a glass in front of Christopher and smiled.
The coffee looked delicious with a mountain of whipped cream sprinkled with bits of chocolate and sitting atop black coffee.
Axel licked cream and chocolate, adoring sweets as much as Christopher. “I’m sorry, Dad. Okay?”
“Yeah, boy, but you right,” Christopher relented. “I always wantcha to look out for your ma.”
“To make up, do you wanna do a chug-a-lug contest?” Axel sipped the coffee and smacked his lips. “I’ll even let you win.”
“Sure, Ax. Although you usually chug-a-lug beer.”
“Mom wouldn’t want me to have a beer.”
“You right. You right.” Christopher raised his glass. “Bottom’s up.”
Axel beamed at him. “Bottom’s up, Dad.”
The first taste of coffee washed over Christopher’s tongue and it took everything in him not to fucking gag.
It reminded him of how the earth smelled after a hard rain.
Wet mud. But Axel didn’t recoil, so Christopher knew it was only his imagination.
Or, maybe, his fucking guilt, and the hidden expectation of Axel’s revenge since the little motherfucker declared war.
More than once, the coffee threatened to turn his stomach upside down and explode from his mouth. He powered through, managing to finish three-quarters before he gave up and set the glass aside.
Axel finished his glass, belched, and set it next to Christopher’s. “You lose. You didn’t finish, Dad.”
Nausea roiled Christopher’s stomach. Pressing his lips together, he slid his fingers through his hair.
“Ima go take a shower and rest until the boys get home, Ax,” Christopher said, lumbering to his feet. He’d probably have to stop in one of the bathrooms before he reached his bedroom, to vomit. “We can have pizza for dinner.”
Watching Christopher closely, Axel sat in one of the chairs, tucking one leg under his ass and swinging the other. “Do you admit you treated Mom like dirt?”
“We not goin’ back to that shit,” Christopher snapped, wondering why he emphasized ‘dirt’ and then deciding it didn’t matter. “Drop the fuckin’ subject.”
“Okay, Dad. Suit yourself.” Axel raced past Christopher, leaving him to fend for himself.
Fifteen minutes later, he finally reached his bedroom and not a moment too soon. The desire to vomit morphed into the need to shit. A giant, gigantic, humongous need that cramped his stomach and almost buckled his fucking legs.
He slammed into the bedroom and crashed to a fucking halt.
Spray painted on the walls were the words, I’m Mom’s justifier.
Mom needs justice. I miss Mom. Dad is a mean motherfucker.
Dad should have his fingers sawed off. War.
Death. Dad’s coffee made with dirt and poop stuff. You fuck with Mom, I fuck you up.
In between those words and phrases was a name: Axel. He’d created thousands of dollars in damage.
Christopher growled.
That little motherfucker was going to fucking pay. He didn’t even know what to address first. No, he’d fuck up Diesel and Axel first. Axel fucked up so many goddamn words, Christopher was beginning to wonder if he had a learning issue. Yet…
Fucking yet…he knew what the fuck a justifier was. Knew how to spell that motherfucker…
Christopher briefly fucking forgot his guts were somersaulting, percolating, swerving and swirling. Until…
Unfuckintil…
Howling in pain and humiliation, he sprinted to the bathroom, leaving a trail that Axel would clean to appease his motherfucking shit fetish. That wretched little motherfucker.
When he had nothing left in his fucking stomach or ass, he snatched the toilet paper and…the moment it touched his skin, he screamed, burning as if he was on fire.
Scrambling to his feet and flushing the toilet, Christopher staggered to the shower, ignoring the mess, the stench, just so fucking glad to have his organs still in his body. He must’ve lost ten pounds.
Standing under the spray, he didn’t care that the water was ice fucking cold. He fucking knew Axel fucked with the temperature. He didn’t care. He was too fucking weak to give a fuck.
His body wash was missing. Fuck it. Smelling like cherry blossoms was much better than the alternative. At least, that bad ass little bastard left Christopher’s shampoo and conditioner.
Megan’s body wash smelled differently, more pungent than normal, but fuck, that fucking laxative and mud mixture probably fucked up his tastebuds and sense of smell.
Christopher cut the water, then spread the stuff over himself, taking care with all the places Roxy whipped and wondering why the body wash wasn’t lathering up. It didn’t matter. He’d shampoo his hair and while the conditioner was in, he’d wash this shit off.
He only managed to rub conditioner on each side of his head and the back before his chest and groin began to burn like a motherfucker. Quickly, he turned on the shower again, welcoming the cold, tipping his head back to cool off his overheated skin.
Smiling as the sting faded away, he rubbed his hand through his hair and frowned. A wad of hair spread over his fingers. He glanced down at the floor of the shower. It was covered in hair.
“FUCK!” he roared, rushing through the rest of his shower and washing away whatever had been in those fucking bottles.
The cold water had helped a lot, so he was able to move quicker, leaving the shower. He frowned at the smell but ignored it and turned toward one of the mirrors.
He no longer had chest or cock hair, and it looked as if he’d gone to a barbershop and gotten a fade, by a blind motherfucker who left behind huge patches.
“Dad?” CJ walked into the bathroom and glanced around, his eyes wide. Shell-shocked. “What. The. Fuck.”
Axel stuck his head in, a motherfucking clothespin on his motherfucking nose. “What did you do Mom?”
CJ stiffened, not that Axel cared. He flipped CJ off.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Dad,” Axel said darkly, not caring that he sounded like Daffy Duck. “You taught us to cherish Mom. Learn that fucking lesson yourself. Now, do you give in or do you want fucking more? It’s your choice. What did you do Mom?”
Christopher heaved in a breath, exhausted. “I made your ma cry.”
“What else?”
“Fuck, Axel!” CJ exploded. “Dad conceded.”
“I had to do the job you and Diesel should’ve done, CJ, so shut up.”
Christopher raised a hand, silently telling CJ to stand down. Sighing, he met Axel’s angry, hurt gaze. “I made your ma leave.”
“And she’s not home yet,” Axel spat, tears brimming in his eyes. “Remember this. Learn from your fucking mistakes, Dad. When she comes home if you ever hurt her again, I’m chopping your fucking lips off while you sleep.”
“I ain’t, son. I swear. I just want her back.”
“Me too.” He started to turn, then halted. “Mom can protect herself, but it’s always good to have backup. Don’t forget if she don’t have none of her other sons, she got me.”
“I resent that,” CJ said.
“Choke on it, bitch,” Axel snapped, unafraid of anyone or anything. “You resent it ‘cause you’re fucking guilty.”
Christopher limped to CJ because he was ready to snatch Axel and shake the fuck out of him. He didn’t feel comfortable hugging his boy without clothes on, so he placed a hand on CJ’s shoulder.
“Axel?” Christopher called again. “What was on the toilet paper?”
“Chili pepper spray.”
“Oh, goddamn,” CJ said.
“AX!” Ransom yelled, racing into the bathroom. He frowned at Christopher, then wrinkled his nose. “You got Dad alone?”
“We told you we’d help,” Ryder added, grinning at Christopher.
“And I told you I didn’t need no help if you didn’t stay.”
“You did all this on your own, big head?” CJ asked curiously.
Axel nodded.
Ransom whooped and clapped him on the back.
“Legend!” Ryder crowed.
They lifted him and carried him away like he was an MVP at a fucking football game.
“I’ll get gloves and help clean this up,” CJ said quietly.
“I ain’t feeling good, boy. I need to find a room to lay down.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. We’ll take care of it.”
Christopher remained silent. Obviously, CJ was upset. He’d been angry over his ma, told Christopher off, and then dropped it. Now, he seemed appalled. Either because he hadn’t pushed Christopher like Axel had or Axel hadn’t gotten in trouble.
CJ looked at Christopher. “You’re proud of him, aren’t you?”
Christopher shrugged, not wanting to add to CJ’s distress, but at the end of the fucking day, Axel did exactly what Christopher always demanded.
Protected his ma.