Description : Ride Steady
AFTER HIS FATHER cuffed him, Carson Steele’s temple slammed into the corner of the wall by the refrigerator. It happened so fast that, despite all the times it had happened, and there were a lot, he still wasn’t prepared. So his hand came up to curl around the corner too late to soften the blow as the sharp pain spread from his temple though his right eye and into his jaw. Doubling that, his left cheekbone stung from the back of his father’s hand slamming into it.
“Trash fuckin’ stinks!” his father yelled. “What’s the point a’ you, boy? You good for nothin’?”
Carson had learned not to respond. Anything he said made it worse. He could defend himself and get his ass kicked. He could apologize and get his ass kicked.
Problem was, he could be silent and get his ass kicked too.
But his dad had a woman at their house, and even though they were both slaughtered on beer and vodka, if his dad had a woman (which he did surprisingly often, regardless that he was a jackhole, and not only to Carson), his father would have other things on his mind. This being the reason Carson hadn’t been prepared for his dad to have a go at him.
When he turned from the wall, still holding on to the edge and battling the pain, and looked into his old man’s eyes, his dad just muttered, “Piece of shit. Good for nothin’. For fuck’s sake, do somethin’ worth somethin’ in your sorry life, take out the fuckin’ trash.”
Then he moved to the fridge, opened it, nabbed a six pack, slammed it, and stormed out.