Ah! I'm so sorry! I forgot to post the update! Well, without further a due! All Kurt Sutter characters belong to Kurt Sutter, and all original characters belong to me. Read and review!
She dropped the mail, her keys and the takeout she had picked from down the street when the elevator door opened and she saw the front door of her apartment. It was padlocked to the nines, with an eviction notice posted on it, she walked over, dropping her bag on the ground and rattled the locks to test their solidity, before peeking into the window, everything was gone.
-Sons of bitches!
She kicked at the door before grabbing her back and swinging it into the elevator, she pushed the button back to the lobby and picked up the mail ragefully, her keys, she had a handful of Moo Goo Gay Pan in her hand when the door opened, her dad was on the other side, keys in hand, in the door, her mom was laughing at the practical joke, Happy smiled, rasping.
-You said you'd be back two days ago.
Her jaw tightened, she growled before tossing the handful of food at his chest, she hated when they did stupid things like that.
-Stop locking me out of my apartment, dad! And where is my stuff?
-Your stuff?
-My fucking furniture, and shit! Where's my stuff?
-Everything was in there when your mom fed Mittens yesterday.
Everett opened her mouth, to yell at her parents or curse the entire planet or promise death, she wasn't sure yet, but it would come out, possibly in Frenglish, and they better stop fucking around with her things.
But as the first syllable was about to pass her lips, she knew it wasn't them. Dan. It was that asshole Dan, who thought the world revolved around him.
-Was Dan here?
-He gave his key back, last night, which made us padlock the door.
-Baby, come for dinner. I have wine, smokes, a little bit of weed, and Florence is gone to a sleep over. And daddy can pick up the mess in the elevator.
-I can pick up the mess? How about I bash your teeth in?
-Pick up the shit, Happy, it was your idea.
Her mom crossed the lobby, grabbed Everett by the wrist and pulled her into the apartment Everett had always called the fishbowl, there was a large window in the living room overlooking the lobby so they could see anyone crossing the lobby and getting into the elevator. Everett had hid her laughter, she had no doubt it was her mom who came with the idea to padlock her place, it had Sailor Lowman written all over it.
Her mom, pushing fifty-five and living the pirate dream. She bought a large boat, invested in her own business, and now she promoted pirate cruises on the Mediterranean, every day at 11am for kids and 4pm for adults. She had been doing that for twelve years. And her dad, he'd just been invested in his apartment building, he was turning 65 years old in November, balder than ever, still a Son, the treasurer of the charter. Married sixteen years, almost seventeen, and still happy.
She was shoved into one of the retro chairs that were at the table in the kitchen, offered a large serving of food, an almost overflowing glass of red wine, a basket of bread, it was not dinner time yet, it was just four, but her mom's kids had probably all ran off one place or another letting her mother slav...
-I slaved over this dinner for hours! Hours! And what thanks do I get?
None, King went to his job on the boat, Flo was gone for a sleepover and Maddie was one place or another, being a drama queen. And Happy was not one to eat dinner, anymore. Around dinner time, he would always sit outside and watch the young chicks strutting their stuff on the street.
-Drink, drink, let's get drunk. Because fuck the world and long live pirates!
-How much did you drink?
The door closed, Sailor leaned back on the chair was was on, Everett did the same, and they saw Happy walking past the window pane, his cigarettes in his hand, shades on, he was already done cleaning the Chinese food mess, and he had changed his shirt to go sit outside.
-How was she?
-Fuck, the older I get, the more I wish dad would have killed her. She was barely bearable when I was a kid, now she just makes me wanna hurl.
-Fucking Esther. You got her into rehab again?
-Fuck her. I should have drowned her in a vat of acid. Let someone worthy breathe the air she's wasting.
-Was it that bad?
-Mommy, I haven't seen her in seven years, and the only thing she wanted was money. You remember how I begged and groveled dad to help me send her to rehab?
Begging and groveling was putting it very lightly, there wasn't much she wouldn't have done to get her way, the last time she had sent her mother to rehab, seven years before. And she had paid for two more rehabs out of her pocket since then. Everett pulled her cigarettes out of her bag, and lit one, almost slamming her lighter on the table as she put it down, she drowned her mouth with a long sip of red wine, there was nothing like being home with her family.
-Now she's doing pretty much anything she can get her hands on. Dad should have killed her. It would have spared me.
-I'm sorry, baby. You know I didn't know. Not until you told me.
-You're my mom. More than she ever was.
There's a moment of silence, Sailor lights her own cigarette, as Everett details the kitchenette, from where she sits, she can see her parents' bedroom, with the pirate comforter and her mom's dog sleeping on the bed, an ugly little beast that Happy hated with a passion, but would take a bullet for. To the right of that room, Florence's, to the left, King's.
-I really meant it, mom.
-You know it's gonna be hard. Look how long it took them to become integrated, Théo Lacroix was just accepted four years ago.
-I don't care about Théo. It's about me.
A silence, another drag of her cigarette and sip of the wine, she drank half of the glass, already, her mother started to nibble on her food, as Everett puts out her cigarette in the ashtray.
-What did dad say?
-He's not going to say anything. It's your life.
-You know I would do anything for it.
Everett grabs her cigarettes, her bag, she finishes the wine before taking had mother's keys to get into her own apartment, as Sailor watches from the kitchen table where dinner had remained untouched for the most part.
-You don't have to go about with your father's violence, Everett.
-Is there any other way to go about it?
She slammed the door, headed upstairs through the elevator again, this time having to share the lift with a young man who was looking at his feet, he got off before her, leaving her with a little bit of peace.
In her two room apartment, there was nothing left but a few broken furniture, the cat's little box, dust bunnies and cans on the counter, her clothes in the bathtub were cut to shreds, all the soles of her sneakers slashed and heels to her high-heels broken, bleach poured over, "slut" was painted on the wall above the broken bed frame, it looked as if he'd tried to take it out of the room without taking it apart, he had scratched the wall and broken the frame. Made a hole in the door.
That was one nagging little four letter word. She knew what she was and what she wasn't. And they both knew she had broken up with him the proper way before she had brought this leggy brunette back in her apartment to get her freak on after three years of missionary, boring sex. Dan had moved out of her room and into the couch, he'd been there for three weeks, looking for a new place to live, when she had brought this brunette back. He had initiated the breakup, with his speeches on how her ways were too wild, but he was too cowardly to finish the breakup, so she had. And now this?
Slut?
He was the one that had cheated on her twice with bitches off the street. But she had been raised SOA, and had never been bitter or naggy about it. because shit happen,. she was not around.
Slut. Painted over her favorite poster, vintage The Wall poster she had paid a fortune for. Slut, ruined, Pink Floyd Poster.
Mittens meowing in hunger made her turn around from heading towards the wall, she went to feed him a can of tuna and pet him between the ears before going back to her room and ripping the poster off the wall, and storming out without bothering to lock. Downstairs, she chucked her mother's keys at her father who was polishing his motorcycle and checking out chicks, arose the question of where she was heading looking like a rabid pitbull, "Fuck off" being the answer.
It wasn't very hard to know where Dan had went, his secretary was a lesbian. Two fingers and a minute of her time was all it took. He'd finally bought a house, moh-moh-oh-oh-Montr-oh! Merde, Montredon! Montredon! Rue du Lieutenant Moulin! In Montredon!
A little house with ivy all over the front, that would burn nicely. She got out of her car, this car she had forced him to buy because motorcycles were not safe, and had the son of a bitch drive into the house, like in the movies. A brick on the accelerator, she closed the door and put it in drive, and it did its magic. No kaboom, no weird tricks, just smashed into the living room window about halfway up the hood before stopping. Just enough to have Dan rush out of the house, screaming that she's a psycho bitch.
-Sweetheart, that's disappointing. Thought after three years you'd have better than, slut. Or bitch.
She tossed the now crumpled poster his way, she was all smiles in the declining daylight. He opened the ball up, to see what it was, warily, as if a rabid tarantula could jump out of it. Dan wasn't even good looking, she thought, he looked so ordinary. He lacked danger. Excitement. Dan and his stupid crew cut, and his stupid ten year plans, ties, tiny dick and lack of ambition for bigger things.
-You could have done better drowning my cat. Or, you know... Fuck my mother. I can't believe you're stupid enough. Tu pull this childish breakup bullshit on me! And now you have a house. the house you told me I should put off buying until I was better at my job. You have...
She chuckled, counting on her fingers.
-My furniture, in your house, that I haven't even finished paying for. Did you forget my last name?
She pointed herself frantically, a deranged smile hanging from her lips as he gulped. She wiped her lips, pulled a bottle of alcohol from her purse, she took a long swig from it, offered it to Dan.
-You don't have insurance yet, do you?
-Non.
-Aw. Pauvre, pauvre little Dan. Poor you. I feel for you, really.
-What will you do?
-Me? Nothing. You, well, who cares.
The bottle was thrown towards the hood of the car, it shattered against the ivy, her Zippo followed suit, Dan screamed and started towards the beginning of the blaze, mouth open in protest, only to be clocked across the face by Everett, he was so soft that he stumbled backwards and made her lose her balance.
-Burn, bitch! Burn!
Everett Stars K Lowman. Perfectly capable of breaking up like a decent human being. But breaking up the crazy bitch way was funner.