Arieru: -dodges thrown object- Yes I realize it has been 6 months and honestly I was thinking of killing this story. I know everything that's going to happen it's just making it happen that's the problem. Yes the comatose known as a 'writer's block' had gotten to me to, but I started writing this at my lunch at work. So I hope you all enjoy!
Happy Bastard's Day
I grinned in satisfaction as I departed from A.J.'s car.
"You worked it out there Mercedes so hwo you feel beating Gail?" He pulled his window down and asked me.
I beamed favoring his question ready to start gloating.
"Pretty damn good!" I answered him and then waved good bye. I heard his car engine rev up and he tore through the barrio.
I ran a hand through tangled bed hair as I shuffled through my bag for my house keys. I didn't come home the night of Slammiversary. After helping A.J. and Chris finally win their titles, I went out to celebrate with the guys and others. Flirtation goes through me when I'm a bit tipsy, so it wasn't surprising that I spent a lot of time with the Naturals and my boys Sonjay, Jay, and Chris Sabin. At least they had respect for me enough to let me share a room with Traci Brooks instead of one of them, but you could imagine how pissed I was when I found out that the hotel was 3 miles from my house and, insert horror movie music here, I had no money on my broke ass, but luckily it was A.J. who offered me a ride back home, he was really such a sweetheart.
I recalled of how fun last night was as I shuffled through my purse for my house keys and unlocked the door. Pointing out that I unlocked the door you would expect it to open. It is such a frustrating dilemma when a door doesn't open when it's unlocked, it completely destroys the victorious feeling one gets when unlocking said door, but as I pushed I found a barrier. After managing to get the door open a bit, I peered in seeing that my 10 foot bookcase was in front of the door.
"What the fuck?" I pushed my 125 pound weight upon the door knocking over the bookshelf and heard the glory of gravity at hand when the bookshelf crashed onto the floor with my collection of romance novels.
Reinforced barrier on my door! Shit! That equaled something unpleasant had happened while I was gone. It didn't take me long to figure what it was and prove my assumptions correct the minute I entered the kitchen.
Roosevelt sat at the table a cup of coffee in his delicate grasp. He smiled at me; I frowned and shook my head in disapproval.
"How long are you going to allow this to happen to you?" I placed my bag down upon the table top. Intuitively he raised a finger over the newly formed scab on his eyebrow.
"It was my fault Mercedes don't worry." I groaned in response taking our first aid kit from the top of the refrigerator. I had hoped dust would form on it before I had to use it again, but not even a thin layer of dust rose as I opened it.
"I knew he would go take you drinking and look where it got you for agreeing, so yes it is kind of your fault." I shouted back at him and uncapped the hydrogen peroxide dipping a cotton swab into it.
"You really don't need to." He muttered back at me fresh tears threatening to flow down his bruised cheek.
"No llorando (No crying)," I locked eyes with him threatening him not to cry as I spread the peroxide over the cut, "I'll take care of you ok, it's father's day, our movie marathon day don't think I'm letting you forget that you make the best homemade ice cream, let me help." I said quickly changing the subject. Like me, Roosevelt had a bastard for a father. Unlike my mother, his was left with the debts his scandalous father left her when he mysteriously disappeared. We all believed he was in Puerto Rico.
He smirked lightly remembering the tradition.
"What happened to Bastard's Day? He tried not to scream as the peroxide foamed over his infected cut. He was such a wimp when it came to pain made me wonder how he stayed gay.
"Ya, well I really shouldn't be swearing in front of you with you like this." I placed a band aid over his cut and inspected the rest of his face.
"Ever so courteous," he laughed then looked over my skimpy outfit, "but you're not getting your clothes back."
I giggled. "No, my kindness isn't for my clothes back, though that'll be a nice constellation prize, it's for the addition of chocolate chip cookie dough in the ice cream." I placed the peroxide back in the kit as he rolled his eyes. I didn't tell him how I enjoyed the attention I received from my new clothes because he would probably never give them back to me.
"Wish granted." He nodded standing up and beginning to work on the ice cream as I kissed his cheek.
"Good," I took a look at him again knowing he'd be fine after some best friend TLC, "I'll go get our videos."
Regular P.O.V. (With Konnan)
After Nelson left with his son, Konnan took the liberty to look through some photographs. He marveled over the father-son relationship that he never had. He wished he had a son of his own; perhaps he did knowing of the nights he spent in Mexico in various women's beds. At least there weren't as many in the 'child support' category, only 3 daughters that he knew of. Those 3 never even lifted a finger to call the man and wish him a Happy Father's Day.
Ashley had been very somber the whole day even when Nelson's son was trying to cheer her up. Hernandez took the privilege of taking her to a carnival after phoning up to New York and wishing his father a happy day.
Lifting himself up from his chair, Konnan outwardly cursed at his hip. He didn't want to stay in his house all day, it just wasn't his thing. As long as he didn't bump into any of his ungrateful daughters he would be fine. Slipping into his 1989 Ford Mustang he lifted the visor of his car down to peer at a picture and smiled lightly. It was a picture of his favorite daughter, no younger than 6 sitting on the stoop of some beat up Manhattan project. She held a bushel of white daffodils clustered into the grip of her small hands, bright brown eyes shone in the sunlight and long curly black hair held back in a braid. He placed the visor back up smiling something forlorn before driving down the road. If she could visit him and call him 'daddy', than he could die forever a happy man, but it was never going to be that way. This was the last picture of her, before she was taken out of his life.
"Me hace falta, mi hija." (I miss you very much, my daughter)
Regular P.O.V. (With Roosevelt)
Roosevelt stood up tucking Mercedes into the sofa with a large mint green colored comforter.
"In the end it seems I'm the one always taking care of you girl." He chuckled a bit to himself as subconsciously Mercedes knitted her eyebrows together mumbling a faint 'bastard'.
After stepping over the hurtle of books that spilled when Mercedes forced the door ajar, Roosevelt opened the front door and saw a small brown package on the door step. After picking it up and picking up the mail he set to ripping through the package before letting out a sharp gasp.
"Oh god th-these are-." He looked astonished at the contents of the box, and then stared back at Mercedes.
Arieru: I hope you all enjoyed that! Short and choppy I know. To tell the truth I was beginning to give up on this story, but since it's my only one (since I quit Pieces of a Dream). I hope all of you will stay tuned it. I apologize for the long ass hiatus period, summer just got the best of me but hopefully I will get another chapter up by the end of the month.