Battle-Hardened, War Weary Ch. 03

Kali took note of Carlo's current condition. She could tell that he had recently taken a drug and was now feeling the effects. His skin was pale and pasty-looking while shiny with perspiration. His eyes held a dull glaze in them, but his pupils were darting around. His body's movements were frantic. His voice trembled, which made his Brooklyn-'Goodfellas'-accent sound as if he was on the verge of crying.

"You must have one high-class, piece of trim. It's too bad that it is a part of a banged-up package" Carlo stated to her, as he leaned against the doorway.

Kali looked away from him, as a result. His insult had applied a stinger to her confidence. She decided that she needed to clean herself off, get dress and go back upstairs. She moved away from the sink and searched for her dress. She found the red item lying on the floor, across from the toilet. She walked away from the sink and from the doorway, to fetch her dress. Meanwhile, Carlo continued to talk.

"You have one man fucking you in his parents-in-law's basement and you have another man going bonkers over you, while he has a smoking hot girlfriend upstairs..."

Kali grabbed her dress off of the floor and then grabbed a handful of toilet paper from off of the dispenser. She strolled back over to the sink. She tried to ignore Carlo and the hurtful statements that he was saying to her.

"... So what it is about you that make you so special, huh? I've tried you once and didn't see what the big deal with you was..."

With the dress draped over the sink's counter, Kali turned on the sink and proceeded to clean herself off.

"... I hope that you are charging for your services because it'll be a crying shame that you'll be broke after both of them leave you alone..."

Kali didn't want to hear any more of his insults. She used her foot to push the door closed. Before the door could slam shut, Carlo's hand caught onto the edge of the door. He violently shoves the door back open. The object slammed against the wall with a thunderous 'thud'. Kali flinched and screamed out in fright, as a response.

"Don't you dare try to slam a door on me, È inutile, segnato da rifiuti di un slut!" Carlo shouts at her, as he walked towards her. Kali walked further into the room while Carlo entered. As he entered the bathroom, he slammed the door shut.

****

"Oh, where in the world is that boy?" Mrs. Logan asks to no one in particular.

"You know how Daniel is, Mother, he doesn't like crowds too much. He needs some time to re-group" Mr. Logan informed his wife. "He'll be backing soon, don't worry."

Ryan Whittler stood next to the large fireplace, in the living room and eavesdropped on the conversation that occurred between Daniel's parents. He stood behind the couch that they sat on and listened. He had nothing else to do ever since each one of his friends had either left the party or gone off to do something else.

The presence of Daniel's parents, grandparents and other family members at this party was a 'surprise present' from his wife. Ryan knew the truth. He knew that this was a publicity stunt. He recognized a few reporters from the New York media outlets at the party and they appeared to be anticipating for something. Daniel's father, Councilman Thaddeus Logan, was not supposed to be here. He was supposed to be in Albany, New York with a bunch of other big-wig politicians, working on a new bill. Both sets of his grandparents lived in the South and didn't like to travel too much, which made their presence a surprise as well. His paternal grandfather, Jean Claude was a well-known minister of a Southern mega-church.

Ryan caught Mrs. Logan give him a brief glance before she turned her attention back to her husband.

"That Whittler kid is standing behind us" Mrs. Logan told her husband, in what she thought was considered to be a whisper. She wasn't aware that Ryan had a very keen sense of hearing. "What is he doing here?"

Ryan saw that Mr. Logan had turned his attention to him, before he glanced forward again.

"I don't know, Mother" Mr. Logan stated. "Maybe one of the Tolley members has invited him."

"I've doubt it," Mrs. Logan stated. "They do not like that boy just as much as we do."

"So, there is a chance that Daniel or Mary Anne has invited him, after all, they all had gone to school together," reasoned Mr. Tolley.

"I doubt it, Daniel has told me numerous times that he hasn't been hanging out that homosexual blasphemy thing, since college," his wife informed him.

Ryan chuckled under his breath at the snipe to his sexual orientation. He laughed, but he didn't find Mrs. Logan's judgment to be funny. He had taken a sip out of his glass of cognac. The liquor burned at the back of his throat as he swallowed. Drinking from his glass was the safest response to that woman's assumption right now rather than his impulses.

"Mother, how do you know that he is a... homosexual? I just saw him with a pretty woman just a moment ago."

"You can just look at him and can tell that he is one! Oh Thaddeus, a lot of them homosexuals use women to hide their secrets!" was Mrs. Logan's answer.

Ryan eye's shifted from the Logans to the tall and beautiful woman that was strutting into his direction. Suzette Garrison was a beautiful creature and she knew it. She has been Ryan's girlfriend since his senior year of high school. She was five feet-ten inches tall with a pair of gorgeous legs that takes up most of her height. She was naturally thin and curvy, which has kept her modeling career stagnant. She had long, naturally pale blonde hair that spans from the top of her head to her waist, which is a sign of her Nordic lineage. Her deep-set, dark blue eyes hid behind a straight, aquiline nose and a broad forehead that she hid behind a bang. Her lips were small and thin. She was definitely beautiful. However, Ryan was not attracted to her.

"Baby, I need to go..." Suzette announced to him, as she stood in front of him.

"Okay," he stated to her while staring at her and having another sip of his drink. His eyes quickly scanned over to the Logans. They stared at Ryan and Suzette. He saw Mr. Logan give his wife a poke with his elbow and then pointed over to them, as if saying 'See, I told you so'. Ryan chuckled at seeing that gesture. He turned his attention back to his girlfriend.

"... My agent said that this is going to be a nation-wide campaign. The designer is as famous as Versace or Gucci—

"I said, 'Okay'. I understand if you have to go" he stated to his girlfriend, in a voice that displayed a lack of interest. He drained his glass of alcohol. "Let me help you catch a taxi."

****

'Just need a cigarette, but there is no way in hell I am going outside to smoke.' An idea formed. 'There's a basement. I'll smoke inside of there. No one is allowed down there, so it'll be no disturbances.'

Patrick glanced around the kitchen for Mrs. Cartwright, his boss and the owner of Delish Catering Services. She wasn't a person that was hard to miss, ever since she was the only person in the kitchen, who was wearing all black clothing. His eyes spotted her as she stood by the kitchen's entrance, which was across the giant room. She was speaking with the woman who owned this massive house.

'Go now, the bitch is distracted' his mind suggested.

Patrick tapped a co-worker on the arm, a fellow server.

"I'm going on a cigarette break, cover for me, man" he notified the waiter.

"Sure, man" the guy said to him.

Patrick quickly strolled over to the basement entrance and quickly entered the stairwell. To avoid being caught by his employer, he closed the door. He stood at the top of the staircase and underneath the lit area while he started his cigarette break.

'Mmmmmaaaannnn, I needed this shit badly! I have three more hours to go and then—

'SLAM!'

The sudden, thunderous noise of a door slamming shut had interrupted his though process, as well as, giving him a fright. Patrick flinched and his cigarette dropped from his hand. The nicotine stick had fallen to the stair.

'Shit, what the fuck was that?'

Realizing that the lit cigarette was on the step, Patrick ground out the lit end of the item as it lied on the stair.

"AAAAHHHHH, STOP IT, STOP IT PLEASE!"

Patrick received another fright at the abrupt sound of a woman shouting. The shouting had come from the basement.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

The demand had come from a man.

Then Patrick heard another loud noise come from the basement. It sounded as if a body was slammed against another object. Knowing that there was a woman downstairs, being assaulted, he wanted to come to her aid. He raced down the stairs and was welcomed by four large structures that were in the middle of the room. It was a maze for Patrick.

"PLEASE, CARLO—

Patrick recognized the sound of a hand striking out and connecting to flesh. Then, there were other sounds of a person being struck. Using his sense of hearing, he followed the barrage of noises. He ran through the aisle between two shelves and come across a closed door. There was light shining through the crevices of the door.

Before his mind could catch on, Patrick used his foot to force the door open. The door slammed violently against the wall behind it. It was about to close again, but he caught the door and gave it a push. He glanced into the room. He saw that it was a small bathroom.

His eyes focused on the scene that was unfolding before him. There was a woman lying on the floor. She was almost naked. She appeared to be petrified of the man who was hovering above her. Her face was wet with her tears and blood.

'Rape... Rapist...' A thick and heavy set of rage consumed the young man.

His eyes cast a death glare on the man who was holding onto the woman, by her hair. The man wore a black, ill-fitting suit with a red shirt underneath. His coal-black hair was ruffled. His face was sweaty and flushed. His right cheek was ruined with three, jagged thin red lines. Patrick also noted the scratches and nicks that marred his neck.

"WHO THE FUCK—

Patrick's fist connected to the assailant's face before the man could even finished speaking. There was a sting in his fingers and knuckles, but his rage protected him from feeling the pain. The assailant let out a grunt. His grip on the woman's hair loosened. He staggered backwards and he bumped into the wall. From his peripheral view, he saw the woman crawl away from them. Patrick walked up to the coward of the man. He noticed that the man was significantly smaller than his 6'3 frame.

'Oh, he's a small one...'

Patrick released another punch. This blow landed on the man's face. "Hey Tough Guy, you like beating up on woman? Well, how about you fight me?"

Then proceeded to pummel the guy. His fists pounded at his face and at his torso. With each punch, Patrick listened to the coward's grunts and groans of pain. He hoped that his punches caused just as much pain that he inflicted on the woman. The assailant's body crumpled and Patrick allowed the man to sag to the floor. He stood over the man's crumbled form. He glared at the man as he groaned and writhed in pain.

"You're nothing but a punk ass coward," Patrick sneered at the man. He grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt. "Get your ass up!" He pulled the man to his feet and then gave him a hearty shove out of the bathroom. The shorter man staggered a few steps and fell on the floor inside of the wine cellar. Patrick watched the man crawl down an aisle that was in between two wine shelves. He was about to go after the man.

"He's not worth it."

Patrick had come to a halt. The statement had come from a darkened corner.

"Excuse me?" he said to her.

"He's not worth it," she repeated.

He walked over to the corner. The further he walked; the vision of her form had become sharper. She was sitting on the floor, in a huddle. She was using her legs and arms to cover her intimates. The lack of light in the corner had prevented her face from being highlighted.

****

"Say, do you want to come home with me? My parents aren't home tonight" Suzette asked Ryan, as she stood by the taxi. Ryan saw the hopefulness that danced in her cornflower-hued irises.

"No" he said curtly. He walked over to the driver's side window and gave the driver the address to Suzette's home. Afterwards, he pulled the rear passenger's door open. He stared at Suzette. He saw the disappointment and hurt on his face. He didn't feel a lick of guilt for his action, but he knew that he needed to apologize for his behavior. "I'm sorry for my attitude. I have a lot on my mind. I have to leave the country on Wednesday, for a business trip, with my grandfather—

"Oh Ryan, baby, so you had took up your grandfather's job offer?" Suzette shrieked in excitement.

"Yeah" he muttered. "I have accepted the offer."

Suzette let out a squeal and did a little bounce in celebration. She hugged Ryan, who didn't reciprocate. She gazed into her boyfriend's eyes. "Oh baby, I'm so happy that you've taken the job with your grandfather! You're gonna make so much money with that job and you can get to travel a lot. Oh, I know that you must be so excited about the job!" She gave him a kiss. "Oooh, we definitely going to have to celebrate..." Her glove-adorned hand had reached in between their bodies. She cupped his pants-shrouded dick and gave him a squeeze. She felt her body grow hot underneath the four layers of clothing that she wore. "... And we have to do it soon."

Ryan groaned in pleasure at the sensation that Suzette's hand was invoking. His cock needed the relief. For the past three hours, he has been pitching a tent in his slacks. His mind conjured up the image of the woman who was responsible for his arousal. Suddenly, he felt guilty. He brought his hand down to Suzette's busy hand and removed her hand off of his junk. He watched her eyes display disappointment.

"Your cab is waiting," he explained to her.

"Oh... okay" she said to him, with disappointment.

The couple parted and Suzette entered the automobile. He made sure that her limbs and clothes were inside of the cab before slamming the door shut. He stood in the street and watched the taxi pull off. He continued to stand in the street as he watched the car drive down the neighborhood.

"BITCH, HURRY THE FUCK UP! MOVE!"

The outburst disturbed the tranquil environment of the neighborhood. Ryan turned his attention away from the traveling taxi car.

"DON'T FUCKING YELL AT ME, YOU STUPID—

"GIA, I'M NOT IN THE FUCKING MOOD RIGHT NOW FOR YOUR MOUTH!"

Ryan recognized Carlo's voice. He gawked over to the façade of the Tolley residence. He saw Carlo descending down the porch's steps. Gia, his girlfriend, was following him. Ryan walked to the curb of the sidewalk and stepped onto the pavement.

"...MY FUCKING HEAD HURTS! WILL YOU HURRY THE FUCK ON?"

Ryan strolled over to Carlo. He noticed his face's bloodied face. He felt shocked and then rage at seeing his friend's current condition. "Dude, what the fuck happened to you?"

"WHAT THE FUCK... What the fuck do you think happened to me? That fucking bitch... I gotta get the fuck outta here," Carlo stated to his friend.

"All right, man..." Ryan muttered. His handsome face held an expression of confusion. "...have a good night." He watched Carlo nod his head and then walked away from him. Carlo stepped off the curb and proceeded to walk across the street.

"I don't fucking know what the hell is his problem" Gia remarked as she walked up to Ryan. "He probably gotten his ass kicked for doing something stupid!"

Ryan didn't say anything to her statement. Instead he gave Gia an embrace. "Have a goodnight, Gia." Ryan gave the woman a kiss on a cheek.

"GIA, HURRY THE FUCK UP!"

"Fucking asshole," she muttered. She walked away from Ryan and followed after her boyfriend.

Ryan stood in the same spot as he watched the couple walked up to a parked, black Lincoln Navigator. He watched the two people climb into the truck and eventually pull off.

****

"Was he your boyfriend or something?" Patrick asked the woman.

"God no" she explained to him, her voice croaked.

Patrick and the woman were now in the bathroom. The woman sat on the toilet while Patrick stood in front of the sink. Using the spare dish towel that was hanging from the back pocket of his slacks, he cleaned the blood from off of her face. He was also observing the wounds that she possessed.

When Patrick approached her, as she was cowering in the corner, he felt an overwhelming need to protect her and give her nurture. As soon as he saw her face, he bit down the impulse to search out the son of a bitch and throw him another beating. He knew that she was in a 'fight or flight' mode, so he treaded carefully. Using a soft tone of voice, he convinced the woman to leave the corner and to allow him to help her. With slow steps, she emerged from the shadow. Once he noticed her lack of clothes, he closed his eyes and proceeded to hand her his black shirt to wear. She tentatively took the shirt. Once she was covered, she let him know.

"So, who was he, if you don't mind me asking?" Patrick asked as he dabbed blood off of her top lip. Fresh blood had seeped from the gash that decorated her lip. "This one is going to need stitches" he muttered under his breath.

"Oh great" she groaned. "How bad is it?"

"Bad, if I have to guess, you will receive five or six of them. Plus your top lip is going to be swollen and bruise for a few... weeks" he reported.

She groaned in disgust. "As if I don't need any more injuries right now."

There was silence between the two of them, with the exception of an occasional groan from Kali.

"I would like to ask you a question, but I know that you will be offended with it" Patrick asked her.

"Ask away," she said to him.

There was a five-second silent moment.

"Are you a prostitute?" He saw that her eyes slowly closed and her jaw clenched in a grimace. "I know that it's a rude question, but—

"No, I'm not, but I will admit to you that I do feel like one," she confessed to him. She opened her eyes and gazed at her savior. "Why did you want to ask that question, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Well..." he sighed. He sat on the sink's countertop. He draped the bloodied towel over his left knee. "No offense, but you appear to be used to this type of mistreatment. A few minutes ago, you were being beaten and now... You're calm" he explained. "The only women that I know who deals with that type of shit, like that are abused women."

There was a moment of silence. Patrick proceeded to clean her face.

"Why did you think that I was a prostitute?" she asked him.

"I didn't say that I thought you were a prostitute. I asked you if you were a prostitute. And to answer your question, I thought of that one because you were down here, in your underwear, getting beaten up by some slick-willy looking cat."

"Oh..." she sighed. "No, I'm not a prostitute... Not by choice, anyway. I am a medical coder actually. I work for a clinic, where I perform the medical billing and coding."

"Oh... seems like a... boring job," the young man stated.

The woman laughed at his joke. Patrick watched the woman laugh and he felt like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. He wanted to make sure that she felt okay. Her laughter gave him the confirmation.

"What's your name?" he asked her.

"My name is Kali. What's yours?" she said to him, with a grin on her face.

"My name is Patrick."

****

After watching Carlo leave the party with a bloodied face, Ryan returned to the Tolley residence to resume his role as an unwanted guest. He entered the townhouse's foyer at the same time when a raucous applause and cheers broke out in the living room. The house band started to play another tune. He entered the living room and saw the members from the Tolley family and the Logan family standing in the middle of the large living room. They were hugging each other and speaking to each other while a small group of photographers were snapping pictures of them.