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Chapter six

Kace

Past - 7 years ago

I have worn a lot of suits and ties in my life, but this was the first time that I feel as if I was going to sweat completely through the fabric and begin dripping on the floor. Today is day three of my trial and sentencing. My lawyer advised me not to take a plea deal when I was first charged because ‘young white men’ usually score a slap on the wrist and community service. Those who typically plead not guilty in instances like this, and in instances of sexual assault, can fight in court and walk away with only damage to their reputation.

Now, I’m not saying that I am opposed to that idea, but I know deep down, I was fucked. I should have taken the deal when I had the chance, but listening to my lawyer is what my mom expected of me. Here I am, sitting in Judge Landon Walkers court, waiting for the jury to return from their chambers and tell me just how fucked I am.

Perched between my lawyer and his assistant, Maggie, I lean back in in my chair. It was as uncomfortable as the day was long, but it didn’t hold a match to the way I felt internally. This day isn’t nearly as dreadful as the day I took that girl’s life. Accident or not, a piece of me died right along with her. The playful side, the side of me that my mother watched grow up through the twenty something years of my life, then let me venture into the world, only to end up in jail.

The dark blue fabric of my suit clings so snugly to my body that it nearly feels like a second skin. I can’t even stretch my legs out without the damn pants riding up and exposing my ankles. Thankfully, I have a pair of Johnson just what I needed to look professional and polished for this shitty day. Like I was about to land some CEO job or graduate with my Doctorate in Financing.

What a joke.

Tilting my head back, I stare up at the stone ceiling, it looks like it was about thirty feet up and the perfect height to swing from but I’m no coward. It was just that the unbearable silence of the court room makes my skin crawl and I need to get the hell out of here.

I didn’t go out of my way to harm anyone, I don’t recall ever drinking and driving before; the one time I did landed me in this chair that feels like it may burst into flames. Closing my eyes, I jumped back to a year ago when I went out to celebrate the birthday of one of my coworkers from the car dealership. I can still smell the bar and taste the cheese sticks I had inhaled while waiting for another drink.

What I would give to go back to that day and make different choices, but what do they always say, hindsight is 20/20?

1 year ago

“Kace, my man! Glad you could make it!” Ricky belts close to my ear, trying to speak over the loud music. His heavy hand coming down hard on my upper back almost making me choke on the delicious and stringy melted cheese.

“Mm-fum-pk Rick,” I mumbled through a mouth full.

Reaching for my beer, one I have been alternating between shots and mixed drinks, I tilt it and take a big gulp, washing down the Italian-American goodness.

“Ricky, sorry man. Happy birthday, thank you for inviting me.”

“No problem, my guy. I wasn’t sure you were going to make it. You looked pretty down today when that Maserati sell didn't go through.”

I turned from him and looked at my plate, shifting back in my chair, the heels of my shoes on the bar beneath my seat as my knees spread apart comfortably. Shrugging, I wiped the grease and breading crumbs from my hands, the cheap ass napkins nearly disintegrating in my grasp.

“No biggy, I was just trying to get that punk ass kid into a car I knew he couldn’t afford. At least we would have had him in a contract, made some money, and repossessed the car once he stopped making those hefty payments.”

Rickys’ head fell back as he let out a loud rumble of a laugh. Salesmen are vultures, and I’m no different. I was trained by our boss to not pay attention to the people who have money because they would likely pay cash, and we wouldn’t get much commission off it. It’s the younger ones with large gold chains, terribly outlined facial hair, girls with dollar signs in their eyes, who are trying to impress, that we really want.

They usually start missing their payments after a few months and we would get the car back then sell it to a car-rental company since it was now used. The dealership would make money, I’d make commission, we would get the car returned, and finally, the rental people would get a luxury car for pennies on the dollar.

“Shit happens,” Ricky comments.

“That’s why I am here eating mozzarella sticks and not having fucking lobster. Say, when’s your little sister getting home from her date?”

“What date?” Ricky asked, raising a brow at me.

I’ve been fucking the life out of that girl for months now; Ricky thinks we are on the straight and narrow but God, she’s a slut. I figured out real fast, that it didn’t take much to get under her skirt and have taken advantage of that knowledge ever since.

She’s out on a date tonight, some YouTube sensation wanna-be. I told her to text me when she was on the way back to her place, but it’s fucking eleven p.m. and I’ve heard nothing but radio silence from her. I could just go home, but there’s some rage I need to take out on her little body, which she’s making difficult by taking her sweet fucking time with this guy. With her being so open in the bedroom, she lets me do whatever I want to her as long as she’s mindless and numb by the end of it.

Ricky would probably knock a few of my teeth loose if he found out I was only sleeping with her, and not trying to make her an honest woman. That’s just not today’s society; it’s fuck, be fucked, and get fucked.

“Emilia is out with Warren Faust, some YouTube guy.”

“The fuck is that, and why the hell didn’t she tell me? Better yet, why aren’t you flipping out right now?”

“Trust me, I am.”

Lie .

I don’t give a shit; the more she tries to be arm candy for someone else, her chances of trying to tie me down decrease.

“I don’t like being clingy, and if she’s going to be out all night, then I rather go home than get stood up,” I added.

Lie again; leave me hanging, baby. I can always find another hole.

Ricky shoves away from the table and storms towards the back of the bar where the open deck was at. Thankfully, the large sliding glass doors are not closed as they would not stand a chance against that raging bull— I knew he was about to call her and chew her a new ass. Sure enough, after taking another bite of my cheese stick, I looked over and ol’ boy has his phone up to his ear and was talking more with his hands than his mouth.

Mission accomplished.

Other than wanting to turn her inside out, I didn’t feel like talking to her. He can take care of that for me, then I can get my dick wet. I don’t really remember when I turned into such a womanizer, but the older I get, the less I want anything to do with a family. No PTA meetings, recitals, and listening to children bicker and fight over who gets to play on the PlayStation next. Coming from a broken home, watching my mother fight with my dad, and ultimately be left to take care of my sister and I, was enough ‘family’ for me.

I don’t care who lands in my bed or if they stay very long; what matters is money, friends, partying, and a hot and willing mouth. Something I can pick up anywhere, and if it ever talks back, I can return the girl and pick up another.

Devouring the remainder of my late-night snack, I polish off a few more shots as my phone continues to buzz in my pocket, Emilia. The fiery Latina is going to give me an ear full when I make it to her place. She gives the best angry head, complete with her cussing me out in Spanish each time I thrust into her throat; ten out of ten, sweet thing.

Reaching for my phone, I pull it out, and sure enough, there are eight missed calls and just as many, if not more, text messages. Good, she’s real mad. Tossing my phone on the table, I grab my beer and nurse it, needing to finish it before closing time and make sure I get my money’s worth. Without that sale today, I’m going to be penny pinching until the end of the month.

Fucking lovely.

As I sit here, watching Ricky and our other buddies, Ivan and Patrick, dance with a group of girls, I start letting the disappointing thoughts run through my head. This is not the life I want for myself but I don’t really know which way I want it to go. Do I stay in something like car sales or is there something bigger than this out there for me? Children and a wife are out of the equation, perhaps I could move up the ranks at the dealership for a little while and possibly open my own.

Damn Kace, you have such extravagant ambitions.

Grumbling at myself, and my near empty beer, I needed to think harder, think more about what I want out of life. What I do know is that I would like to tap into my inheritance and travel a bit. Maybe drop down to New Zealand and go see where they filmed Lord of the Rings or something else. Yeah, that sounds good. I just need more; I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth, yet the older I get, the less appealing everything has become.

However, what I need right this second is something good, something that drains the energy from my body and helps me sleep better at night, like a hot… filthy mouth that refuses to stop screaming at me. That wants to be pinned to the side of the bed and rammed into. One that drools and chokes all over my cock.

Yeah, it’s time to go. My dick is starting to get hard.

Knocking the last bit of my drink back, I place the bottle down and slide out of my chair; tossing a tip on the table for whoever snags it first. I need to get to Emilia fast, driving with a partial erection is bullshit all on its own. If I’m not careful with my thoughts, it will be a full-blown hard-on by the time I make it to her condo.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take me long to get to my truck, stumbling a bit due to the alcohol, but I made it. Using the key fob, I start it up, and it purrs with a soft rumble— music to my ears.

1 year later

“Mr. Patton, please pay attention.” I hear as I’m dragged out of my reminiscing, if you want to call it that. Sitting up straight once more, I look across the court room and make eye contact with Judge Walker, who’s nearly burning a hole through me with the way he is glaring. If I were a lesser man, I would sink down in my chair and cower but I’m not. I am just ready to escape this court room; though I know I might be leaving in a shiny pair of handcuffs.

“Apologies, Judge Walker.”

“As I was saying, the jury is going to join us shortly as their deliberations are coming to a close. Is there anything you want to say before their decision is read?”

“No, your Honor, I don’t have anything to add.”

“Very well,” he nodded. Returning to the papers spread across his bench, almost like he didn’t want to be in this room either— we have that in common.

As if sitting here wasn’t nerve wracking enough, now I have the feel of impending doom starting to hit, my stomach in utter knots. Turning, I get a glimpse of my mom sitting back behind my left shoulder. That woman is losing her mind and I truly hate it for her. She had to pick herself back up once my dad left, and now, here I am, on the verge of being sentenced to prison, destroying the little bit of normalcy in her life.

She’s sitting there coiffed and proper; she dabbed her nose to ensure there was nothing dripping from her nasals though tears dripped down her rounded cheeks. For a moment I think about telling her that I am so sorry for the things I have done, for turning her life upside down but as I start to open my mouth, the bailiff begins to escort the jury out of their chambers.

Fuck, this is it. The end of my life as I know it, which isn’t saying much. To some, I am sure, this is more than what I deserve. Sitting on pins and needles, I watch as each juror takes their seat and the foreperson rises to begin reading the verdict.

“Mr. Foreperson, if you would,” Judge Walker motioned.

“In the case of The State of Michigan versus Kace Harvey Patton, we the jury find the defendant guilty of vehicular manslaughter in the first-degree.”

Gasps permeate the air as the foreperson takes a seat. The air leaves my lungs before I could process just how bad this shit has gotten. I knew this was coming, but there was always a small sliver of hope lingering in my chest that maybe I could come out with just a slap on the wrist. Still, understanding that I deserved punishment, didn’t make the news any less jarring, especially hearing that I got a first-degree charge like I had planned to go out of my way and kill that girl. That’s right up there with premeditated murder, something I was sure I could never follow through with.

Over the past year I have lived in denial, but sitting here, knowing the next time I come to this court room, I will be receiving my sentencing, is an absolute terrible realization. In a blur of final court proceedings, I am eventually pulled out of the heaviest mental fog I have ever experienced. This one deeper and more soul consuming than the day that I mistakenly took an innocent life.

My sentencing hearing is scheduled for one week from now, and since Judge Walker doesn’t see me as a danger to society, he’s allowing me the next week to square my life away. The way I see it, he could take me now, there’s no way I am going to go through the next week knowing that my final resting place is going to be in the graveyard next to Darkwater Correctional Institute.

One year ago, I took a life, and today mine became a waste.

1 year ago

After cramming my drunk body into the driver seat of my Denali SUV with the music up loud, I drew the seatbelt across my torso and buckled it, taking a moment to get my bearings. The shots are really starting to hit me even though I did eat something greasy; that’s what the alcoholics say to do, right? Eat something greasy, don’t chug water, take headache medication as soon as you wake up.

“Ugh.” I groan, dragging in a few deep breaths before reaching into the center console and yanking out one of the spare bottles of water I kept there. Popping it open, I chug a quarter of the contents; so much for that rule, this water was absolutely exquisite. Still holding the bottle, I used my free hand to put the Denali into drive and pull out of my parking space. Heading to the exit then the road itself.

A few miles down the street, I force the window to roll down faster, the cooler air feels amazing on my warm skin. It’s also helping deflate the bulge in my pants, thank God; I can hear Emilia now.

“Fucking pendejo, why did you tell hermano…”

Lost in my head for a second, hearing her sassy little accent internally, I do not realize I have drift out of my lane until the wheels caught the perforations, sending the vibrations and loud rumbling through the cab of the SUV. With a gentle snap of my wrist, I swerve the Denali back into the middle of my lane. Fuck, this is going to be a long ride home, I still have another twenty or so minutes to go before I am at her condo. The bright lights from oncoming cars along with the street lights, are only causing headaches and forcing me to squint rather than focus.

Reaching over, I turn the radio station from a local one to Spotify; the sounds of Korn flooding the speakers as Right Now begins.

What a great fucking song.

Doing my best to focus, I start to sing along, really digest the lyrics. I can feel the hatred from this song in my whole damn chest, feeling it directed towards my life and how unimpressive it is. How fucking pathetic I am, my dad wanted fuck all to do with us, and now he has pawned my sister and I off on my mom, leaving her to raise children she should not have to care for alone. Maybe my hatred is misplaced, maybe I am not angry at myself, but instead at the way life has come around and railed my mom time and time again.

“I fuckin’ hate you!” I scream, belting along with the lyrics.

Tilting my head back for a split second, my eyes close, but when I look back up all I can see is a pair of bright halogen headlights then everything flies into chaos and feels like hours of slow motion when I am sure it was but mere seconds. The sound of crumpling metal and shattering glass overpowers the radio, the beat completely drowned out by the tragedy taking place outside the now broken windshield. The sting of shards hit my face, hands up in the air somewhat trying to block the razor-sharp pieces, as my body moved jaggedly with the Denali as it devours the front end of the car I collide with.

My ears start ringing as the Denali slams back down on its wheels with a jolt. The scent of explosives fill the cab from the airbags that keep me from head butting the steering wheel.

It takes me a bit to come back down to Earth but once I have, I shove out of the door. Fighting, at one point, to get it open since the front fender has crunched back enough to jam it closed. Lifting my right foot, still cramped in the front seat, I thrust with all the strength I can muster. The door gives way but not without more of a fight, opening where I can finally squeeze out.

My work shoes, slippery as they were, nearly slide out from under me when they hit the glass littered pavement. Looking around, I absorb my surroundings and where exactly I am at, then I saw it, the other car.

Stumbling still, I make my way over to it— it’s fucking terrible, the white-opal colored Audi is nearly crushed in two. Rounding the driver side, the windshield is caved in along with the hood of the car and the front of the driver side door frame.

There I saw her.

With a shout, I try to get her attention—a small blonde-headed girl from the looks of it. Her pretty pale curls tousled every which direction, stained with blood that now trickles from the top of her head. Though I have quickly sobered up from the collision, nothing prepared me for the damage I had caused.

Looking closer, the flipped down visor has lifted her scalp off her skull and the steering wheel was shoved so hard into her chest I cannot see her breathing.

Fuck… she isn’t breathing… at all.

Thirty minutes later, sitting on the curb in a pair of handcuffs, my knees drawn up so as not to dirty my pants, I lean forward with my forehead on my knees. The emergency rescue teams no longer showcase any sort of urgency which tells me that the girl is gone. They would not be as casual as they are now if there was still a chance to save her life— I killed her.

“Kace Patton?”

“Yeah,” I reply, lifting my head to see one of our local police officers standing over me.

Reaching down, he curls his hand under my right bicep and pulls me up from the curb nodding to his squad car.

“You are under arrest for the vehicular manslaughter of Angelica Barclay. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Wait… Barclay?” My voice more panic filled than anything else. I begin to struggle against the officer's firm hold, then I look back at him even as he focuses on walking me toward the car.

“Yes.”

“As in Governor Barclay?”

“The very.”

FUCK!

I killed the governor's daughter.