asswithcharm - Tumblr blog

[asswithcharm]

Shut Up and Drive

The grinding of gears competed with the vibrating bass of the car speakers. Maybe "borrowing" this car wasn't as bright of an idea as I'd thought. A few blocks down, and thankfully without attracting the attention of patrol cops, I somehow figured out how to bring the car to a stop without crashing into a curb, mailbox, or fire hydrant. 

With a reverse twist of my wrist, the jangle of keys was the only sound apart from the hyperventilating breaths huffing out. Yup, this idea would go down in the record books as one of the worst ideas of my life so far. My palms flattened over faded denim, wiping the sweat onto the rough fabric. Time for plan b.

Surely #Lisa would be wondering what had gone wrong since I was supposed to meet her over half an hour ago. A quick wipe down of all surfaces, leaving the key under the floor mat, I slid out of the ancient car, quickly strolling into an alley for some cover.

Bringing the phone to my ear, the fourth one I'd gotten since last month, I listened for the telltale series of rings until she picked up, but all I got was a generic voicemail telling me that the person was not available. No shit Sherlock. Two bad signs made an omen, right?

I stowed the device in my hip pocket, breaking into a slow jog until I got to one of the few cabs on the street, thankful for the light announcing it was on duty. After I rattled off the address of our meeting spot, I leaned back against the cracked upholstery, right knee bobbing up and down in a nervous jangle. Going over each detail, I checked and double checked over all of the steps leading up to today's rendezvous. Despite a handful of years between the last time I had physically seen #Lisa, an old friend from childhood, someone I considered my cousin despite the fact that our neither of our parents shared DNA, a lot of careful preparation had gone into this job. Being on the run got old fast, and getting used to living without modern technology had taken a long time to become accustomed to. Hell, even having a cell phone again was strange.

Nodding a thanks to the driver and minus more cash than I could afford, I took the street down a few more blocks until I reached a deserted playground at an elementary schooled that had closed down decades ago. There was an eerie creak of a lone swing as I passed by. An involuntary shudder traveled down my spine, and I tried to shake it off. All the worst scenarios threatened to overwhelm my mind, which was already in a jumble

Finally, I reached our tree, tracing over the initials I had carved there decades ago along with #Lisa and our group of friends. My head swiveled around, scanning the area for any sign of her until I spotted a familiar object. Reaching down, my fingers grasped a rainbow hair thingie. Was it called a scrunchie or something like that? It was faded and covered in dirt, but I clearly recalled its place on her wrist 24:7.

She had been here and probably left this for me. Think, man, think. I made a circle around the tree, hoping to god I could find another clue. Then there it was, a crumpled receipt. Pausing to retrieve the wad and unravel it, my eyes took in the cryptic message, immediately breaking into a sprint once I decoded the words.

[asswithcharm]

Off the Grid

A calloused palm scrubbed over a bearded chin as the train departed the station. After months of hiding at an isolated campground, the return to civilization seemed akin to culture shock after arriving in a foreign country.

Hunching down in my seat, legs stretched out in front of me with one boot crossed over the other, I continued to scan the view from my window. Luckily, the car was relatively empty, and I had this small corner to myself.

Digging into the breast pocket of my jacket, my fingers brushed reassuringly over the bulky device stowed safely away for emergencies, my one tie to the modern world. Right arm returned to my side, my mind replayed the plan I’d formulated during my time away. Fleeting images of the last hotel stay and my introduction to rustic living caused me to wince at the contrast. That was now a passing memory as living off the grid was now as familiar to me as city life had been the entire span of my existence.

It was surprising just how much my priorities had changed. Yes, the endless hours of just myself for company had proved maddening in the beginning, but once I made peace with my necessary living situation, I found the solitude a welcome change from the stress of being on the run in the conventional meaning of the term.

At my destination, I knew the few tasks I needed to complete. First on the list was making contact with the one person I trusted with my life. Hopefully, the years of estrangement between us wouldn’t strain the initial reunion.

Leaning forward, I retrieved a worn baseball cap from inside my backpack, drawing the bill down low to block out the afternoon sun. A brief siesta would help the remaining hours of the journey pass by more quickly. Arms crossed across my chest, my head dipped down, chin tucked in. Soon a jumble of random thoughts began to dissipate, and I welcomed sleep like a lost lover.

- Written December 10, 2020

[asswithcharm]

Off the Grid

A calloused palm scrubbed over a bearded chin as the train departed the station. After months of hiding at an isolated campground, the return to civilization seemed akin to culture shock after arriving in a foreign country. 

Hunching down in my seat, legs stretched out in front of me with one boot crossed over the other, I continued to scan the view from my window. Luckily, the car was relatively empty, and I had this small corner to myself. 

Digging into the breast pocket of my jacket, my fingers brushed reassuringly over the bulky device stowed safely away for emergencies, my one tie to the modern world. Right arm returned to my side, my mind replayed the plan I'd formulated during my time away. Fleeting images of the last hotel stay and my introduction to rustic living caused me to wince at the contrast. That was now a passing memory as living off the grid was now as familiar to me as city life had been the entire span of my existence.

It was surprising just how much my priorities had changed. Yes, the endless hours of just myself for company had proved maddening in the beginning, but once I made peace with my necessary living situation, I found the solitude a welcome change from the stress of being on the run in the conventional meaning of the term.

At my destination, I knew the few tasks I needed to complete. First on the list was making contact with the one person I trusted with my life. Hopefully, the years of estrangement between us wouldn't strain the initial reunion.

Leaning forward, I retrieved a worn baseball cap from inside my backpack, drawing the bill down low to block out the afternoon sun. A brief siesta would help the remaining hours of the journey pass by more quickly. Arms crossed across my chest, my head dipped down, chin tucked in. Soon a jumble of random thoughts began to dissipate, and I welcomed sleep like a lost lover.

[asswithcharm]

Bachelor Blues

The fading daylight soon led to another dark, lonely night of glass after glass of whatever I could find in the diminishing minibar. This had to be at least the eighth hotel I had crashed since barely evading arrest by the FBI. Nevertheless, that ever prevalent predicament was not the cause of my current woe-is-me complex. It was the all-around fear that I would die alone.

Yep, I was in the lowest of moods, feeling so fucking sorry for myself that I couldn’t stand being me. And worst of all, I had no one to blame. It was all my doing. Beautiful, intelligent women had floated in and out of my life, and I had done nothing to ensure they stuck around. Hell, I must’ve had some sadistic pleasure in sabotaging every single relationship before they ever had a chance to bloom.

Knowing I would be making things worse, I brought my phone up to eye level, watching the screen unlock. Maneuvering through my open apps, I found the largest source of tonight’s pain: a series of texts from all my buddies and a couple from exes I was still on good terms with, the ones who worked out better as friends. Who’d have guessed, right?

As I opened up each conversation, the overall theme was utterly clear. Any man worth his salt found a decent woman willing to put up with his shit and put a fucking ring on her finger and a bun or two in the oven. What the fuck was wrong with me?

Finding my glass empty again, I set it back down on the nightstand, suddenly finding my train of thought shifting along with my sorry ass mood. I began to evaluate every single fucker and fuckette and came to the realization that the gradual dissolution of each friendship had almost the same exact thing to blame.

Without fail, as soon as each person found “the one” and settled down, those of us who were still part of the bachelor brigrade were unceremoniously ushered out of the circle. So what the fuck was a single guy to do? It pissed me off to no end, and my hand leashed out, the dredges of my drink spilling onto the carpet while the glass rolled a few feet away.

With a rush, I stumbled onto my feet, nearly tripping over the jumble of untied laces. I needed to sober up and fast. Balancing one foot on the bed, I quickly retied my running shoes, shuffling over to the mirror for a quick once-over.

Apart from slightly bloodshot eyes and greasy hair, my brief assessment was passable for the public. Keys, phone, and wallet in hand, I slammed the heavy door behind me, forgoing the elevator for the stairs.

The fall chill assaulted my uncovered head, and I shivered momentarily before racing to my car, only to rethink that temporary lapse in judgment, deciding to pound the pavement towards the only coffee shop open at this hour that served decent espresso.

Up ahead, the light from the plate glass window signaled like a lighthouse. I swear, I could almost smell the freshly ground beans while I continued to close the distance on the remaining block. Once I had a sufficient amount of caffeine in my system to start to counteract the fog, it would be time to do a 180 and get my life back on track. Enough was fucking enough. 

- October 5, 2020 

[asswithcharm]

Brass In Pocket

Strolling down the pavement downtown, feeling the chill of autumn approaching, my head bowed as I reviewed my options for the near future. All of this jumping through hoops just to inherit my dad's estate was getting old. I needed to ensure both my financial and possible criminal statuses were settled. The former was easy: I just needed a quick trip home to change some of the loose diamonds into paper currency and I'd be set.

As far as the dangers of being connected to the black market, I could deal with that issue directly or I could let someone else get his or her hands dirty instead of me. That option was much more appealing, and I had numerous connections for that type of business transaction. Two birds, one stone... It would all come together as soon as I could leave this city.

Finally reaching my car, I paused on the sidewalk to make sure I hadn't missed any important messages while I had met with my dad's attorney. A quick glance at the phone screen and I was good to go unless... Nah, it had barely been a week since the last session with the angelic blonde masseuse. She would definitely start to assume I was the type of client who wanted a happy ending tacked on. Never mind if the deed was done on a different day, under different circumstances, and behind a different set of doors.

Tugging at the open collar of my shirt, I momentarily struggled for air. I'd have to add one more item on my to-do list once back on my turf. The woman in mind wasn't my usual type, but she'd more than do. Plans loosely set in my mind, I decided to complete the necessary preparations while I was out and about.

A couple hours later, bags in hand, I returned to my dad's house, the musty smell taunting me as a reminder of my lengthened stay. It couldn't be more than another month or two and I'd have the keys turned over to a real estate agent.

Rummaging through the suitcase I had never unpacked, I wondered if I really needed to do some laundry before I left. The prospect of spending more time in the depressing basement caused me to wince. I wanted no delays. There was a closet full of clothes at home and I could always make a trip to the department store if I ran out.

The buzz of the zipper closing was music to my ears, and I checked the bathroom for anything I might need to pack. Deciding against it, I made my way towards the front door, lugging the bag at my side. Once I secured the lock, I was back in my car, Nine Inch Nails playing on the stereo for the six-hour drive that would end just after dark. Perfect. 

- September 20, 2019 

[asswithcharm]

Memory Lane

A week had passed since my brief escape, including the memorable massage by the leggy blonde. Images and memories of her touch had often provided inspiration to relieving the tension that had seemed to build up more often than usual.

Back in my father's house, the slam of the front door echoing in the drab living room, I rolled up the sleeves of a crisp, white dress shirt, fingers traveling down the row of buttons to free my torso from the constraints of a tailored vest. It had been months since I had been this dressed up, but a phone call from an old contact had deemed it necessary for the old business garb.

Slumping down into an overstuffed La-Z-Boy recliner, giving out a groan once my feet kicked out, eyes shutting briefly while my body stretched out in comfort. This was the only fucking thing he'd left behind that had any value in my life. That damn money was almost in my grasp; just a few more things to go and then I'd inherit.

Linking fingers behind my head, brows knitting thoughtfully, I went over the details of the meeting. Seemed that a mutual business associate had gotten himself arrested and was rumored to be ratting out anyone who could either reduce his sentence or keep his pussy ass out of prison.

It wasn't as if what I had been doing as a side gig was illegal. Not my fault if the average American citizen was so easily duped when it came to precious stones. Now it was coming back to haunt me, all those years managing a fine jewelry store while swapping out diamonds with cubic zirconia, making a killing on the black market.

Maybe it was time for another distraction, suddenly finding my shoulders had knotted up with tension, freeing one arm to return the chair to an upright position. I rushed to the bedroom to swap the monkey suit for a t-shirt and jeans, making sure to stow my phone and wallet in the front pockets, keys jingling in hand as I made my way back out to the car. Instead of staying overnight at the hotel, I would just drop in for a massage and afterwards maybe find some place to eat, all the while thinking about how to get myself out of this mess.

- September 13, 2019

[asswithcharm]

Room With A View

Fucking hell. Two seasons had passed since I'd been forced to return to my hometown to give my dad a proper burial and finish up his affairs. Of course the bastard could've have just willed me his money like most decent men. Although I was nearly finished with the obligations needed to be able to inherit, I didn't see myself getting back home before it was wintertime again.

In need of a break from the fucker's home and every single fucking thing that reminded me of him, I decided to get in my car and drive until some place caught my attention.

After about an hour on the highway I passed a sign that listed all of the lodging options and decided to try one that I hadn't remembered from childhood. It sounded fancy and hell, my dad owed me for the nonstop headache I had experienced over the past several months.

Stepping inside with a small duffel bag, I walked up to the reception area, giving the redhead a charming wink.

"Room for one, please."

I made my request known before she even had the chance to properly greet me.

"Er, yes."

Her pale cheeks flushed, and she proceeded with the formalities, finally transferring a keycard into my hand with a shy smile.

Whistling a random tune, I was about to take the elevator up to the sixth floor when I noticed a spa to the right. A sign in large letters advertised the various services available, and my eyes trained onto the word "massage." Fuck, maybe I should treat myself to one of these.

Moving through the entrance, I proceeded towards a handful of employees gathered around the reception area. Setting my duffle down, I cleared my throat and waited for one of them to join me at the counter.

I noticed a woman of slender build attempting to free herself from the grasp of a middle-aged man who looked like a football player gone to seed. My attention was interrupted by a throaty voice that practically purred.

"May I help you, sir?"

She was easily older than the man I had just glimpsed, the manner with which she spoke immediately making me feel uncomfortable.

I'd like a full-body massage, one of the hour-long ones. Next available."

Her eyes transferred from my gaze down towards the large monitor, sliding on a pair of reading glasses.

"Heather has an opening within the hour, sir."

"Heather'll be fine, ma'am."

The man and woman from earlier suddenly turned towards our direction, a gruff voice greeting me.

"Hello there. Welcome. This is Heather, and she'll be doing your massage today."

My head lowered and turned to the right, and I was greeted with the palest of blue eyes. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke.

"If you'll follow me, sir."

Reaching down for my bag, I willingly stepped behind her, noticing a small but firm ass. Nice unexpected view. We reached a hallway to the left, entering a dimly-lit room with soft music in the background.

After minimal conversation, Heather left the room for me to undress and climb onto the table. Shivering a little under the blankets, I waited until I spied a pair of bare feet just within view of my downturned head. The toenails were dusted with some type of glittery polish that was now fading, a narrow band of silver on each big toe. Must've been the prettiest toes I had ever seen.

I felt soft fingertips brush over my shoulders as she drew the blankets down towards my waist, strong hands beginning the massage.

With a sigh, I allowed myself one more glance of those adorable feet before resting my eyes, enjoying an hour of absolute bliss.

- September 6, 2019

[asswithcharm]

Hello, Insomnia, My Old Friend

Christ, I swore I could hear birds singing just to taunt me. I had a fucking headache from hell, and it wasn’t because of a hangover. At least that would’ve made it worth it.

As dawn approached, I debated kicking off the covers and trudging over to the coffee maker that owned my ass every morning. Might as well give up on sleep as it had decided to elude me yet again.

On the previous day, I had managed to snag a few hours of sleep after a long day of hunting down leads discovered after my father’s unexpected death in February. At least the fucker had left me an ample estate, but his conditions listed in the will were incredulous.

Now I was on my second sleepless night. Naps were more of a tease, speaking of which, don’t even bring up that subject. I was surprised I didn’t have carpal tunnel after all the frustration I had taken out on the thing.

With a hoarse groan, I slowly sat up. Add a backache to the list of complaints this morning. And my knees creaked and popped once I officially abandoned the bed I had come to despise. You’d think with all that money my dad would’ve invested in a better mattress.

Stopping in the bathroom for a quick leak and to get the shower started, I mustered enough energy to get a pot of coffee started, shuffling back to the other means of waking my lifeless form from what felt like death.

Once under the hot spray, clouds of steam filling the tiny cubicle, another thing I hated about this damn house, I figured I might as well attend to other needs. You’d think morning wood only existed after a night’s sleep. Of course not.

Showered and someone sated on the physical spectrum, I tossed on whatever clean clothes I could find after rummaging in my suitcase. You’d think after almost six months, I would’ve unpacked, but that would’ve meant I had accepted the fact that I was stuck in this miserable hole for longer that I’d already been.

A jolt of caffeine eased the headache a bit, and I pried my laptop open at the kitchen table, checking the email I had opened for all matters pertaining to my deceased dick of a dad. Well, hello, hello. Thirty-one emails since I had last logged in, including one from a sender whose name and email address were new to me. Who was this mystery person?

Tilting the mug back yet again, I practically poured half of the black brew down my throat before taking another look. Maybe the lawyer would recognize this newbie. I guess I had one more thing to add to today’s to-do list.

- August 4, 2019

[asswithcharm]

Family Secrets (With @Kia_mys)

Stumbling over a pile of clothes, an open suitcase, and a trail of beer bottles, I maneuvered my way out my childhood bedroom and into the hallway towards the bathroom. That appointment with my late father's attorney was in less than an hour, and as I stood over the sink, bloodshot eyes greeted me from my reflection in the mirror. Fuck, I was a mess. Head pounding, a queasy rumble in my stomach protesting the lack of substantial calories and the over saturation of my liver. Whatever this shit was the fucker, aka sperm donor, had left me o deal with, it had better be fast and painless.

A quick shower and I managed to make it outside without good ol' Auntie Paula nagging me about the rumpled clothes that hung on my frame. I'm sure she. would've preferred I don that monkey suit again. Once had been more than enough.

In Mr. Davis' office, resplendent with framed diplomas and leather-bound books, I made sure to noted and reply with a grunt or "Uh-huh" to pretend I was listening as he rambled. Twenty three minutes of the man droning out legalese threatened to knock my sleepy ass back into a deep sleep until a business card was ushered my way.

As the words came into focus, I scanned over the intriguing name: Kiera Dione. What the hell had my dad been doing with this information? The information was pretty vague as to what type of business this Ms. @Kia_mys had had with the fucker.

Anyways, the honorable esquire rambled on about how the card had been found in a file marked "Important," hidden away in the bottom desk drawer of the fucker's former office.

Blunt fingertips skimmed the edges of the heavy cardstock, deftly rotating the rectangle before sliding it into the back pocket of my jeans. Hell, the address was a mere four miles from where I sat. Might as well continue the productive streak I had began since returning home.

------------------------------------------------------

@Kia_mys: Kiera sat in the office of her arcane shop. Dressed in a black frilly blouse, black pants with wedge heels. Blonde hair tied up in a messy bun.

Her fingers drumming on the desk as she scrolled through the latest findings of her research. What little of it was there. Days had passed since she had heard from Mr. William Trent and she was anxious for news, any news, hell even a rumor.

He had said he was close the last time they talked, 8 days ago in person. Now she heard nothing.

No email, no texts...

nothing.

She worried something maybe happened to him. But she would have heard about it or someone come to here with documents he had possession of.

Something....right?

She was paying good money to be kept up to speed and good ol Billy and said he was close. So yeah... her fingers drummed on the desk in impatience. On the verge of going to his home. But that had been the one rule he had. Never to come to his house.

So now she was stuck....

waiting....

her most favorite thing to do in the world... not. Only half listening to the customers in her shop, busy this time of day. Her eyes glancing up no and then at the monitor to ensure people were being taken care of... and just maybe she would see Mr. Billy Trent walk through her door.

Not in a million years ever expecting to see his son,

@AssWithCharm.

------------------------------------------------------

Rolling my neck, giving my arms a quick shake, I strolled in the direction of the address printed on the business card, reaching the storefront. With a squint of my eyes, I peered through the glass, noticing the outline of a female figure. Grasping onto the metal handle I felt a rush of air when the door sprung open at the slightest tug of my arm. Once inside, the oddest feeling descended upon my shoulders. Before I had a chance to process it, I met @Kia_mys' gaze, briefly scanning the woman's attractive features in an awkward silence until my thoughts and voice worked in sync.

"Ms. Dione?"

I queried after another glance at the card in hand, clearing my throat.

"You may have had some business with my late father, perhaps?"

Her soulful eyes took their own turn scrutinizing my appearance. It was obvious that my presence had disturbed her work. Fuck, get this over with, asshole.

"His name is, was Billy, I mean, William Trent. I'm Colin, his only child, and I'm following up on any unresolved business while I'm in town."

Unsure of what else to say or do while @Kia_mys mulled over my explanation, my head dropped for a moment, studying my feet. Her musical voice captured my attention, and I found myself being drawn to its source. Everything else was lost to me save the woman standing before me. Had I met her before and somehow forgotten? Impossible.

———————————————————————

@Kia_mys: The moment she saw him outside her shop through the cameras, she had left the office and relieved Sierra to take her break.

At this moment there was no one else in the store so his timing was perfect. And though she suspected who he was through the resemblance, it wasn't until he spoke was her suspicions confirmed.

She had raised her eyes at his question of her identity but said nothing more. For just a moment feeling like her mother with his politeness. While he spoke she took in his appearance. And as she did the oddest feeling of deja vu overwhelmed her. She hated that feeling. Nothing good ever followed.

And she was right. 'Well shit' she thought but showed no outer emotion of her disappointment. No wonder Billy never returned her phone calls or texts.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Colin, however if your father is gone then my business with him is concluded."

She paused with just a hint of hope in her voice, moving around the counter to stand closer to him,

"Unless you are aware of our arrangement or have papers he may have left for me" she paused looking him over for a folder or such items but saw nothing.

"Otherwise you can consider my business with him finished." She almost said 'and move on" but her instincts were flaring. Something about him suggested he could be useful.

So she left it open for him to make that decision to attempt to help her.

But he also said while in town... so he wasn't planning to stay. It made her stay cautious in her words to him.

To say she was disappointed was an understatement, and seriously hoped Billy had somehow left him or her something to go on.

- March 29, 2019 to April 11, 2019

[asswithcharm]

Get Me Outta This Monkey Suit

I tugged at the knot on my tie for about the fiftieth time today. The sun was nowhere ready to set. When would this fucking day be over?

Seeking solitude in the kitchen of my father’s home, I caught a few minutes of peace, sneaking a quick drink from a half empty flask, fidgeting hands returning to my pockets, trying to settle this nervous energy.

A blur of conversation slipped in through the door held open by my only aunt. After years of merely calling her “Auntie” during my childhood years, I finally discovered that her name was actually Paula and she was my dad’s first cousin, so not even a true aunt.

“Colin, the party’s in here. Out!”

Gone was the cheery disposition I remembered as a kid. This was a woman who meant business, and I guess she had a point. Fucker had keeled over from a heart attack, and it was my duty to make my rounds with the guests.

Waiting for my relative to leave, I tilted the flask back for one more sip, clearing my throat as I followed in her wake. Pairs of eyes stared, most unfamiliar, while I tentatively took a few paces towards the table that had been transferred into the living room.

“Um, thanks for coming,” I managed and gestured towards the food. “Please help yourself.

That must have placated my dear old aunt for she glanced in my direction with an approving nod. Raising my left wrist, the cuff of the shirt caught on my watch, I tugged and silently hoped the time was passing by faster than since I had last checked. Dammit, this thing must be broken or something.

People came by one by one, sometimes in pairs, mumbling their condolences while I stood with my feet spread apart, hands locked in front of me. As the line dwindled down, I decided I might as well put something solid in my gut. However, as I reached for a plate, I heard footsteps behind me.

“Young man... Mr. Trent. You were informed of our appointment tomorrow morning?”

With the plate in hand, I spun around to discover the source of the voice, a face that reminded me of an Italian mob boss like on The Godfather films. Scanning my brain, I realized this was the fucker’s lawyer. Davis? Daniels?

“Yeah,” I confirmed, bringing my other hand to grasp the plate. “I’ll be there at 9.”

His face remained neutral at my reply.

“9:00 a.m. sharp.”

Turning back towards the table, I scraped a little of each dish onto the styrofoam then had a seat in the only corner of the room that was empty, a rumble sounding from my stomach. I thought mourning made people lose their appetites, not the other way around, but who was I kidding? Good riddance, says me.

Shoveling the food down without even tasting it, I got up with the empty plate, returning to the kitchen. Placing in the overflowing trash can, I pushed the backdoor open to step outside for some air. Too bad I had quit smoking. Then I’d have an excuse to keep leaving the guests.

Moments passed and I began to hear the sounds of people leaving: voices calling out in farewell, car doors slamming, the rumble of engines. Finally, a break from this horrendous day. Tomorrow would be my last obligation as the deceased’s only progeny then I could leave this place again for good, just as I had 15 years ago, never imagining I would ever have to return.

- February 28, 2019

[asswithcharm]

Bachelor Blues

The fading daylight soon led to another dark, lonely night of glass after glass of whatever I could find in the diminishing minibar. This had to be at least the eighth hotel I had crashed since barely evading arrest by the FBI. Nevertheless, that ever prevalent predicament was not the cause of my current woe-is-me complex. It was the all-around fear that I would die alone.

Yep, I was in the lowest of moods, feeling so fucking sorry for myself that I couldn’t stand being me. And worst of all, I had no one to blame. It was all my doing. Beautiful, intelligent women had floated in and out of my life, and I had done nothing to ensure they stuck around. Hell, I must’ve had some sadistic pleasure in sabotaging every single relationship before they ever had a chance to bloom.

Knowing I would be making things worse, I brought my phone up to eye level, watching the screen unlock. Maneuvering through my open apps, I found the largest source of tonight’s pain: a series of texts from all my buddies and a couple from exes I was still on good terms with, the ones who worked out better as friends. Who’d have guessed, right?

As I opened up each conversation, the overall theme was utterly clear. Any man worth his salt found a decent woman willing to put up with his shit and put a fucking ring on her finger and a bun or two in the oven. What the fuck was wrong with me?

Finding my glass empty again, I set it back down on the nightstand, suddenly finding my train of thought shifting along with my sorry ass mood. I began to evaluate every single fucker and fuckette and came to the realization that the gradual dissolution of each friendship had almost the same exact thing to blame.

Without fail, as soon as each person found “the one” and settled down, those of us who were still part of the bachelor brigrade were unceremoniously ushered out of the circle. So what the fuck was a single guy to do? It pissed me off to no end, and my hand leashed out, the dredges of my drink spilling onto the carpet while the glass rolled a few feet away.

With a rush, I stumbled onto my feet, nearly tripping over the jumble of untied laces. I needed to sober up and fast. Balancing one foot on the bed, I quickly retied my running shoes, shuffling over to the mirror for a quick once-over.

Apart from slightly bloodshot eyes and greasy hair, my brief assessment was passable for the public. Keys, phone, and wallet in hand, I slammed the heavy door behind me, forgoing the elevator for the stairs.

The fall chill assaulted my uncovered head, and I shivered momentarily before racing to my car, only to rethink that temporary lapse in judgment, deciding to pound the pavement towards the only coffee shop open at this hour that served decent espresso.

Up ahead, the light from the plate glass window signaled like a lighthouse. I swear, I could almost smell the freshly ground beans while I continued to close the distance on the remaining block. Once I had a sufficient amount of caffeine in my system to start to counteract the fog, it would be time to do a 180 and get my life back on track. Enough was fucking enough. 

[asswithcharm]

Brass In Pocket

Strolling down the pavement downtown, feeling the chill of autumn approaching, my head bowed as I reviewed my options for the near future. All of this jumping through hoops just to inherit my dad’s estate was getting old. I needed to ensure both my financial and possible criminal statuses were settled. The former was easy: I just needed a quick trip home to change some of the loose diamonds into paper currency and I’d be set.

As far as the dangers of being connected to the black market, I could deal with that issue directly or I could let someone else get his or her hands dirty instead of me. That option was much more appealing, and I had numerous connections for that type of business transaction. Two birds, one stone… It would all come together as soon as I could leave this city.

Finally reaching my car, I paused on the sidewalk to make sure I hadn’t missed any important messages while I had met with my dad’s attorney. A quick glance at the phone screen and I was good to go unless… Nah, it had barely been a week since the last session with the angelic blonde masseuse. She would definitely start to assume I was the type of client who wanted a happy ending tacked on. Never mind if the deed was done on a different day, under different circumstances, and behind a different set of doors.

Tugging at the open collar of my shirt, I momentarily struggled for air. I’d have to add one more item on my to-do list once back on my turf. The woman in mind wasn’t my usual type, but she’d more than do. Plans loosely set in my mind, I decided to complete the necessary preparations while I was out and about.

A couple hours later, bags in hand, I returned to my dad’s house, the musty smell taunting me as a reminder of my lengthened stay. It couldn’t be more than another month or two and I’d have the keys turned over to a real estate agent.

Rummaging through the suitcase I had never unpacked, I wondered if I really needed to do some laundry before I left. The prospect of spending more time in the depressing basement caused me to wince. I wanted no delays. There was a closet full of clothes at home and I could always make a trip to the department store if I ran out.

The buzz of the zipper closing was music to my ears, and I checked the bathroom for anything I might need to pack. Deciding against it, I made my way towards the front door, lugging the bag at my side. Once I secured the lock, I was back in my car, Nine Inch Nails playing on the stereo for the six-hour drive that would end just after dark. Perfect.

[asswithcharm]

Memory Lane

A week had passed since my brief escape, including the memorable massage by the leggy blonde. Images and memories of her touch had often provided inspiration to relieving the tension that had seemed to build up more often than usual.

Back in my father's house, the slam of the front door echoing in the drab living room, I rolled up the sleeves of a crisp, white dress shirt, fingers traveling down the row of buttons to free my torso from the constraints of a tailored vest. It had been months since I had been this dressed up, but a phone call from an old contact had deemed it necessary for the old business garb.

Slumping down into an overstuffed La-Z-Boy recliner, giving out a groan once my feet kicked out, eyes shutting briefly while my body stretched out in comfort. This was the only fucking thing he'd left behind that had any value in my life. That damn money was almost in my grasp; just a few more things to go and then I'd inherit.

Linking fingers behind my head, brows knitting thoughtfully, I went over the details of the meeting. Seemed that a mutual business associate had gotten himself arrested and was rumored to be ratting out anyone who could either reduce his sentence or keep his pussy ass out of prison.

It wasn't as if what I had been doing as a side gig was illegal. Not my fault if the average American citizen was so easily duped when it came to precious stones. Now it was coming back to haunt me, all those years managing a fine jewelry store while swapping out diamonds with cubic zirconia, making a killing on the black market.

Maybe it was time for another distraction, suddenly finding my shoulders had knotted up with tension, freeing one arm to return the chair to an upright position. I rushed to the bedroom to swap the monkey suit for a t-shirt and jeans, making sure to stow my phone and wallet in the front pockets, keys jingling in hand as I made my way back out to the car. Instead of staying overnight at the hotel, I would just drop in for a massage and afterwards maybe find some place to eat, all the while thinking about how to get myself out of this mess.

- September 13, 2019

[asswithcharm]

Room With A View

Fucking hell. Two seasons had passed since I'd been forced to return to my hometown to give my dad a proper burial and finish up his affairs. Of course the bastard could've have just willed me his money like most decent men. Although I was nearly finished with the obligations needed to be able to inherit, I didn't see myself getting back home before it was wintertime again.

In need of a break from the fucker's home and every single fucking thing that reminded me of him, I decided to get in my car and drive until some place caught my attention.

After about an hour on the highway I passed a sign that listed all of the lodging options and decided to try one that I hadn't remembered from childhood. It sounded fancy and hell, my dad owed me for the nonstop headache I had experienced over the past several months.

Stepping inside with a small duffel bag, I walked up to the reception area, giving the redhead a charming wink.

"Room for one, please."

I made my request known before she even had the chance to properly greet me.

"Er, yes."

Her pale cheeks flushed, and she proceeded with the formalities, finally transferring a keycard into my hand with a shy smile.

Whistling a random tune, I was about to take the elevator up to the sixth floor when I noticed a spa to the right. A sign in large letters advertised the various services available, and my eyes trained onto the word "massage." Fuck, maybe I should treat myself to one of these.

Moving through the entrance, I proceeded towards a handful of employees gathered around the reception area. Setting my duffle down, I cleared my throat and waited for one of them to join me at the counter.

I noticed a woman of slender build attempting to free herself from the grasp of a middle-aged man who looked like a football player gone to seed. My attention was interrupted by a throaty voice that practically purred.

"May I help you, sir?"

She was easily older than the man I had just glimpsed, the manner with which she spoke immediately making me feel uncomfortable.

I'd like a full-body massage, one of the hour-long ones. Next available."

Her eyes transferred from my gaze down towards the large monitor, sliding on a pair of reading glasses.

"Heather has an opening within the hour, sir."

"Heather'll be fine, ma'am."

The man and woman from earlier suddenly turned towards our direction, a gruff voice greeting me.

"Hello there. Welcome. This is Heather, and she'll be doing your massage today."

My head lowered and turned to the right, and I was greeted with the palest of blue eyes. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke.

"If you'll follow me, sir."

Reaching down for my bag, I willingly stepped behind her, noticing a small but firm ass. Nice unexpected view. We reached a hallway to the left, entering a dimly-lit room with soft music in the background.

After minimal conversation, Heather left the room for me to undress and climb onto the table. Shivering a little under the blankets, I waited until I spied a pair of bare feet just within view of my downturned head. The toenails were dusted with some type of glittery polish that was now fading, a narrow band of silver on each big toe. Must've been the prettiest toes I had ever seen.

I felt soft fingertips brush over my shoulders as she drew the blankets down towards my waist, strong hands beginning the massage.

With a sigh, I allowed myself one more glance of those adorable feet before resting my eyes, enjoying an hour of absolute bliss.

- September 6, 2019

[asswithcharm]

Hello, Insomnia, My Old Friend

Christ, I swore I could hear birds singing just to taunt me. I had a fucking headache from hell, and it wasn’t because of a hangover. At least that would’ve made it worth it.

As dawn approached, I debated kicking off the covers and trudging over to the coffee maker that owned my ass every morning. Might as well give up on sleep as it had decided to elude me yet again.

On the previous day, I had managed to snag a few hours of sleep after a long day of hunting down leads discovered after my father’s unexpected death in February. At least the fucker had left me an ample estate, but his conditions listed in the will were incredulous.

Now I was on my second sleepless night. Naps were more of a tease, speaking of which, don’t even bring up that subject. I was surprised I didn’t have carpal tunnel after all the frustration I had taken out on the thing.

With a hoarse groan, I slowly sat up. Add a backache to the list of complaints this morning. And my knees creaked and popped once I officially abandoned the bed I had come to despise. You’d think with all that money my dad would’ve invested in a better mattress.

Stopping in the bathroom for a quick leak and to get the shower started, I mustered enough energy to get a pot of coffee started, shuffling back to the other means of waking my lifeless form from what felt like death.

Once under the hot spray, clouds of steam filling the tiny cubicle, another thing I hated about this damn house, I figured I might as well attend to other needs. You’d think morning wood only existed after a night’s sleep. Of course not.

Showered and someone sated on the physical spectrum, I tossed on whatever clean clothes I could find after rummaging in my suitcase. You’d think after almost six months, I would’ve unpacked, but that would’ve meant I had accepted the fact that I was stuck in this miserable hole for longer that I’d already been.

A jolt of caffeine eased the headache a bit, and I pried my laptop open at the kitchen table, checking the email I had opened for all matters pertaining to my deceased dick of a dad. Well, hello, hello. Thirty-one emails since I had last logged in, including one from a sender whose name and email address were new to me. Who was this mystery person?

Tilting the mug back yet again, I practically poured half of the black brew down my throat before taking another look. Maybe the lawyer would recognize this newbie. I guess I had one more thing to add to today’s to-do list.

- August 4, 2019

[asswithcharm]

Family Secrets (With @Kia_mys)

Stumbling over a pile of clothes, an open suitcase, and a trail of beer bottles, I maneuvered my way out my childhood bedroom and into the hallway towards the bathroom. That appointment with my late father's attorney was in less than an hour, and as I stood over the sink, bloodshot eyes greeted me from my reflection in the mirror. Fuck, I was a mess. Head pounding, a queasy rumble in my stomach protesting the lack of substantial calories and the over saturation of my liver. Whatever this shit was the fucker, aka sperm donor, had left me o deal with, it had better be fast and painless.

A quick shower and I managed to make it outside without good ol' Auntie Paula nagging me about the rumpled clothes that hung on my frame. I'm sure she. would've preferred I don that monkey suit again. Once had been more than enough.

In Mr. Davis' office, resplendent with framed diplomas and leather-bound books, I made sure to noted and reply with a grunt or "Uh-huh" to pretend I was listening as he rambled. Twenty three minutes of the man droning out legalese threatened to knock my sleepy ass back into a deep sleep until a business card was ushered my way.

As the words came into focus, I scanned over the intriguing name: Kiera Dione. What the hell had my dad been doing with this information? The information was pretty vague as to what type of business this Ms. @Kia_mys had had with the fucker.

Anyways, the honorable esquire rambled on about how the card had been found in a file marked "Important," hidden away in the bottom desk drawer of the fucker's former office.

Blunt fingertips skimmed the edges of the heavy cardstock, deftly rotating the rectangle before sliding it into the back pocket of my jeans. Hell, the address was a mere four miles from where I sat. Might as well continue the productive streak I had began since returning home.

------------------------------------------------------

@Kia_mys: Kiera sat in the office of her arcane shop. Dressed in a black frilly blouse, black pants with wedge heels. Blonde hair tied up in a messy bun.

Her fingers drumming on the desk as she scrolled through the latest findings of her research. What little of it was there. Days had passed since she had heard from Mr. William Trent and she was anxious for news, any news, hell even a rumor.

He had said he was close the last time they talked, 8 days ago in person. Now she heard nothing.

No email, no texts...

nothing.

She worried something maybe happened to him. But she would have heard about it or someone come to here with documents he had possession of.

Something....right?

She was paying good money to be kept up to speed and good ol Billy and said he was close. So yeah... her fingers drummed on the desk in impatience. On the verge of going to his home. But that had been the one rule he had. Never to come to his house.

So now she was stuck....

waiting....

her most favorite thing to do in the world... not. Only half listening to the customers in her shop, busy this time of day. Her eyes glancing up no and then at the monitor to ensure people were being taken care of... and just maybe she would see Mr. Billy Trent walk through her door.

Not in a million years ever expecting to see his son,

@AssWithCharm.

------------------------------------------------------

Rolling my neck, giving my arms a quick shake, I strolled in the direction of the address printed on the business card, reaching the storefront. With a squint of my eyes, I peered through the glass, noticing the outline of a female figure. Grasping onto the metal handle I felt a rush of air when the door sprung open at the slightest tug of my arm. Once inside, the oddest feeling descended upon my shoulders. Before I had a chance to process it, I met @Kia_mys' gaze, briefly scanning the woman's attractive features in an awkward silence until my thoughts and voice worked in sync.

"Ms. Dione?"

I queried after another glance at the card in hand, clearing my throat.

"You may have had some business with my late father, perhaps?"

Her soulful eyes took their own turn scrutinizing my appearance. It was obvious that my presence had disturbed her work. Fuck, get this over with, asshole.

"His name is, was Billy, I mean, William Trent. I'm Colin, his only child, and I'm following up on any unresolved business while I'm in town."

Unsure of what else to say or do while @Kia_mys mulled over my explanation, my head dropped for a moment, studying my feet. Her musical voice captured my attention, and I found myself being drawn to its source. Everything else was lost to me save the woman standing before me. Had I met her before and somehow forgotten? Impossible.

———————————————————————

@Kia_mys: The moment she saw him outside her shop through the cameras, she had left the office and relieved Sierra to take her break.

At this moment there was no one else in the store so his timing was perfect. And though she suspected who he was through the resemblance, it wasn't until he spoke was her suspicions confirmed.

She had raised her eyes at his question of her identity but said nothing more. For just a moment feeling like her mother with his politeness. While he spoke she took in his appearance. And as she did the oddest feeling of deja vu overwhelmed her. She hated that feeling. Nothing good ever followed.

And she was right. 'Well shit' she thought but showed no outer emotion of her disappointment. No wonder Billy never returned her phone calls or texts.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Colin, however if your father is gone then my business with him is concluded."

She paused with just a hint of hope in her voice, moving around the counter to stand closer to him,

"Unless you are aware of our arrangement or have papers he may have left for me" she paused looking him over for a folder or such items but saw nothing.

"Otherwise you can consider my business with him finished." She almost said 'and move on" but her instincts were flaring. Something about him suggested he could be useful.

So she left it open for him to make that decision to attempt to help her.

But he also said while in town... so he wasn't planning to stay. It made her stay cautious in her words to him.

To say she was disappointed was an understatement, and seriously hoped Billy had somehow left him or her something to go on.

- March 29, 2019 to 4/11/19

[asswithcharm]

Get Me Outta This Monkey Suit

I tugged at the knot on my tie for about the fiftieth time today. The sun was nowhere ready to set. When would this fucking day be over?

Seeking solitude in the kitchen of my father’s home, I caught a few minutes of peace, sneaking a quick drink from a half empty flask, fidgeting hands returning to my pockets, trying to settle this nervous energy.

A blur of conversation slipped in through the door held open by my only aunt. After years of merely calling her “Auntie” during my childhood years, I finally discovered that her name was actually Paula and she was my dad’s first cousin, so not even a true aunt.

“Colin, the party’s in here. Out!”

Gone was the cheery disposition I remembered as a kid. This was a woman who meant business, and I guess she had a point. Fucker had keeled over from a heart attack, and it was my duty to make my rounds with the guests.

Waiting for my relative to leave, I tilted the flask back for one more sip, clearing my throat as I followed in her wake. Pairs of eyes stared, most unfamiliar, while I tentatively took a few paces towards the table that had been transferred into the living room.

“Um, thanks for coming,” I managed and gestured towards the food. “Please help yourself.

That must have placated my dear old aunt for she glanced in my direction with an approving nod. Raising my left wrist, the cuff of the shirt caught on my watch, I tugged and silently hoped the time was passing by faster than since I had last checked. Dammit, this thing must be broken or something.

People came by one by one, sometimes in pairs, mumbling their condolences while I stood with my feet spread apart, hands locked in front of me. As the line dwindled down, I decided I might as well put something solid in my gut. However, as I reached for a plate, I heard footsteps behind me.

“Young man... Mr. Trent. You were informed of our appointment tomorrow morning?”

With the plate in hand, I spun around to discover the source of the voice, a face that reminded me of an Italian mob boss like on The Godfather films. Scanning my brain, I realized this was the fucker’s lawyer. Davis? Daniels?

“Yeah,” I confirmed, bringing my other hand to grasp the plate. “I’ll be there at 9.”

His face remained neutral at my reply.

“9:00 a.m. sharp.”

Turning back towards the table, I scraped a little of each dish onto the styrofoam then had a seat in the only corner of the room that was empty, a rumble sounding from my stomach. I thought mourning made people lose their appetites, not the other way around, but who was I kidding? Good riddance, says me.

Shoveling the food down without even tasting it, I got up with the empty plate, returning to the kitchen. Placing in the overflowing trash can, I pushed the backdoor open to step outside for some air. Too bad I had quit smoking. Then I’d have an excuse to keep leaving the guests.

Moments passed and I began to hear the sounds of people leaving: voices calling out in farewell, car doors slamming, the rumble of engines. Finally, a break from this horrendous day. Tomorrow would be my last obligation as the deceased’s only progeny then I could leave this place again for good, just as I had 15 years ago, never imagining I would ever have to return.

- February 28, 2019