The Ellie Files
Chapter 1: Open Road
My eyes glanced up to the rear view mirror. I focused on the road that was peeling out behind me. The best sound I had heard in a long time was that sweet, low roar of the 31" mud tires on my silver Wrangler. It gave me hope. That sound meant I was getting farther from my past and closer to a new start. There was nothing left for me in that one horse town of Hampton, Tennessee. I had grown up there, left there, came back and tried to settle down. I thought I was going to stay there, raise youngin's, grow old, but things change. Everything was still pretty fresh in my mind. Looking back now, I guess my redneck side flared up hotter than a stretch of flattop in Florida in mid-July, but I ain't got no regrets. Ha! I can still see it like it was yesterdy'.
I remember having the groceries in my hand and being excited walking across the wraparound porch and through the front door that I had gotten off work early from the precinct. I had a romantic evening planned for me an' Alvin. He had gotten the week off from the fire dept cause' he had so much vacation time saved up. I had just set my things down when I heard something very concerning coming from my bedroom. I made my way down the hall. The closer I got the more it sounded like a goat trying to give birth. Moaning and grunting around like a couple of pigs had taken a liking to my bed instead of the pen back behind the barn. Rage flew up inside of me. I laid a swift kick to the door with my size 11 1/2 boot. The door flew open to give hold to the sight of Alvin straddling that blonde bimbo from the hair salon down the street. Not a stitch of clothing on either of em'. Alvin's gaze shot my way. He looked like he had seen a thousand ghosts. I've never seen his eyes get bigger.
I think I stood there for a minute before I launched myself through the air. I can't be sure. It could have been immediate. Alvin leaped off his carnival pony and hit the floor, taking a sheet with him. Rage wasn't even the beginning of what I was feeling. The little slut cowered at the head of the bed, trying to cover herself.
"ELLIE! SHIT! You weren't supposed to be home till nine!" Alvin studdered out sheepishly.
"Well surprise, Jackass! I'M HOME!" I screeched!
"Ellie! Ellie, listen. I can explain!" He half bawled out.
"Explain?! Explain what? Explain how your balls got chopped off and fed to the neighbors bear hounds?!" I roared.
At this point I had subconscious pulled out my Buck Whitaker 6" flip blade. It was purple. And awesome. Ladies, get a knife. Trust me. I could feel my face and arms getting burning hot. My lip was quivering. On the inside I was a horrible, blubbering mass of hurt and sobbing. I would never let him see that part of me. He wouldn't win.
Gathering myself, "Give me ONE reason why I shouldn't kick both of your asses ten ways till Sunday?", I managed.
I was standing at the edge of the bed that I would never be able to sleep in again, contemplating how I was gonna skin him alive. The "Hair-doo" whore was crying and whining something unintelligible at this point. Alvin started to stand up and cover himself at the same time.
"Now Ellie, I know, I know, you're pissed, OK?" He slobbered out.
"PISSED?! Ohhh sweet-cheeks, this is so much more than pissed! I should gut you and hang you out to dry in the town square and walk away laughing!" I rattled off.
The whore's crying was getting louder to the point where it was getting annoying. I guess me flailing around a 6" deer skinning knife wasn't helping.
I turned on her, "Yeah I would cry like that too, if I sounded like that in the sack. My goats giving birth ain't got nothing on you! I suggest you dry your pathetic, little white trash tears and take em' to somebody that cares! In fact, BOTH of you get OUT! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! NOW!" My voice was getting louder by the second.
Alvin had continued to start babbling about being sorry and something about me putting the knife down. Lawl! I didn't hear it. I didn't care now. It was done. He had made his choice. I had been pacing around the room while he tried to make some sort of sense. I rounded on him, I had shut up my emotions now. I was all business.
"You have exactly 45 seconds to get yer' shit an' get out. You wait 46 seconds and Imma' have my shotgun loaded by then. So it's your choice whether or not you want an' ass full o' bird shot." I stated pointedly.
"Come on, Ellie, baby..." Alvin started.
"10 seconds up." As I turned and headed to my gun safe.
Alvin was a douchy tool, but he wasn't stupid and he knew I wasn't kidding. I plugged three shells in the trusty Wingmaster 870, when I heard his truck's tires peel out on the gravel and hit pavement. They were long gone. Not that it made me feel any better. I guess that's what I get. I knew he had a past with a lot of women. I had convinced myself that I could change him. I flopped down on the front porch steps, throwing the clothes they left scattered around my bedroom on the gravel in front of me. The sun was just creeping low on the top ridge of those beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains. With my shotgun still across my lap, I sat there staring down the road.
I heard foot pads trotting around the corner of the porch. I didn't have to look. My black German Short-hair, Corvo, came up and feverishly applied kisses to my cheeks. I couldn't help but giggle. He was always there for me. I should have known Alvin was trouble when Corvo tried to chase Alvin outta' the house the first time I invited him over. Always trust your dog! Corvo sat down next to me and leaned up against me. I picked out my Zippo and flicked the wheel. I watched the flame for a second before I tossed it on to the clothes of my unwelcome guests. Corvo and I both enjoyed a bonfire that evening until the sun had been chased away by the stars. I cried myself to sleep that night.
So here I am, three weeks later, listening to the hum of my tires take me away from all that. Corvo is riding shotgun, tongue hanging out the window. I have pulled up my roots and heading to the only other place I could call home. I was headed to New York City. My best friend lives there, Kris Beckett. We met in college and the rest was history. We both graduated with Computer Science degrees, but I moved back to Tennessee, while Kris stayed in New York to work at the precinct her bug sister, Kate, works at. From what she has told me she is getting ready to see her sister married to some famous book writer fella'. Castle? I think? Nah that's not it. Who's named after a medieval house? Lol. Anyway, all I know him as is "writer monkey", as Kris so fondly calls him. Gosh, I can't wait to see her. I also hear she has a fine piece of pie herself, but she ain't telling nothin'. Darn that skank!
Well, all I know is it's a fresh start, with what I consider my second family. Yep, enough of this lookin' into the past shit. I affixed my gaze onto the horizon, laid heavy on the gas and turned to Corvo.
"What do you say, boy? Ready for some tunes?" I said as I reached up and cranked the volume knob on the radio. Bon Jovi's Living On A Prayer blasted through the speakers with the help of my southern vocals, as we rock and rolled our way to the big city.