Read Online Comin' Home to You by Dustin Mcwilliams - Free Book Online
Authors: Dustin Mcwilliams
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residence a few years back. That would-be assassin now slept at the bottom of Lake Tawakoni.
Despite coming out of the assassination attempt unscathed, it gave him justification to be suspicious. His skepticism was increased when he never received information on who was visiting, not from his phone or from his dimwitted cousins. Though, the cousins surrounding him weren't the brightest of the Grayson gene pool. Still, they were paid to keep an eye out, and when they didn't do their job, there would be some sort of punishment. It was the way of the world in his eyes. You are rewarded for your good work, and you are punished for doing badly. Thinking of the proper discipline could wait. Right now, there was someone at the door, and he was tired of waiting.
Without a speck of fear in his body, he spoke loudly. “Who is it?”
A shaky voice replied. “It's Jenny May.”
Jenny May, Jenny May , he thought to himself. The name itself sounded familiar, though no face immediately came to his mind. Her voice was very youthful, as if she never hit puberty. The more he repeated the name in his head, the more familiar it sounded. He started listing the women he had been with recently, and it didn't take long to remember who she was. She was Tasha's friend, a girl of whom he had a few tumbles in the sack lately. He hoped to have another tumble with her tonight, but the appearance of this new girl soured that prospect. Only Tasha could have told this girl where he lived. He could never trust a woman, and he was reinforced of that fact.
“What do you want, Jenny May?” asked Scar.
“You're Scar, right? I'm Tasha's friend. I don't think we ever met though. I-”
“I asked you what do you want, girl?”
“Um...well, I was hoping I could buy some speed off ya. Is that ok?”
A disdainful look came over Scar's face. This stupid bitch is seriously asking me for meth? Do I look like a fucking dealer? Few things pissed him off more than someone believing he was a dealer of drugs. While he did get his start selling at the age of 20, he had worked his way up considerably since then, to his current standing as a boss. While there was no official title of his job skills other than a lieutenant, he could confidently say he had administrative power. He felt absolutely insulted when he was called something as demeaning as a simple street level dealer. He compared it to some yokel on the street going up to the McDonald’s corporate building and asking the vice president to cook him a Big Mac. Oh, how he desired to open the door and smash the butt of the pistol into her nose. He didn't work his ass off to be treated like a measly minion. Not only did Tasha tell her where he lived, but made it out like he was some greasy low-class drug dealer? He wanted to strangle that bitch. But he squashed such feelings. Hitting women wasn't his style. The same couldn't be said for other members of his family.
He opened the door slowly, and sure enough, the girl he slightly remembered was standing there. She was a petite girl, about 5'2 and maybe 100 pounds. She had short brown hair, with long bangs resting over her right eye. Her face was having a light outbreak of acne. While standing there, she picked at a zit nervously.
Scar leered over the girl, trying to look as intimidating as possible. “I don't sell drugs, girl.”
“But Tasha said that I could get some off of you.”
“Tasha don't know what the fuck she’s talking about.”
“But she said that you give her some when she is over here.”
“Well, Tasha's got a big mouth.”
“So...can you maybe give me some?”
His eyes narrowed. The girl's insistence was irritating him. “I ain't just gonna give you some.”
“Oh, I have money, if you want that. If not, I can do other things.”
Jenny May's bluntness astounded Scar. Though, he wasn't about to deny what she was implying. “Alright, whatever. Get in here.”
The skinny girl scurried in like a small mouse. In a way, her
Despite coming out of the assassination attempt unscathed, it gave him justification to be suspicious. His skepticism was increased when he never received information on who was visiting, not from his phone or from his dimwitted cousins. Though, the cousins surrounding him weren't the brightest of the Grayson gene pool. Still, they were paid to keep an eye out, and when they didn't do their job, there would be some sort of punishment. It was the way of the world in his eyes. You are rewarded for your good work, and you are punished for doing badly. Thinking of the proper discipline could wait. Right now, there was someone at the door, and he was tired of waiting.
Without a speck of fear in his body, he spoke loudly. “Who is it?”
A shaky voice replied. “It's Jenny May.”
Jenny May, Jenny May , he thought to himself. The name itself sounded familiar, though no face immediately came to his mind. Her voice was very youthful, as if she never hit puberty. The more he repeated the name in his head, the more familiar it sounded. He started listing the women he had been with recently, and it didn't take long to remember who she was. She was Tasha's friend, a girl of whom he had a few tumbles in the sack lately. He hoped to have another tumble with her tonight, but the appearance of this new girl soured that prospect. Only Tasha could have told this girl where he lived. He could never trust a woman, and he was reinforced of that fact.
“What do you want, Jenny May?” asked Scar.
“You're Scar, right? I'm Tasha's friend. I don't think we ever met though. I-”
“I asked you what do you want, girl?”
“Um...well, I was hoping I could buy some speed off ya. Is that ok?”
A disdainful look came over Scar's face. This stupid bitch is seriously asking me for meth? Do I look like a fucking dealer? Few things pissed him off more than someone believing he was a dealer of drugs. While he did get his start selling at the age of 20, he had worked his way up considerably since then, to his current standing as a boss. While there was no official title of his job skills other than a lieutenant, he could confidently say he had administrative power. He felt absolutely insulted when he was called something as demeaning as a simple street level dealer. He compared it to some yokel on the street going up to the McDonald’s corporate building and asking the vice president to cook him a Big Mac. Oh, how he desired to open the door and smash the butt of the pistol into her nose. He didn't work his ass off to be treated like a measly minion. Not only did Tasha tell her where he lived, but made it out like he was some greasy low-class drug dealer? He wanted to strangle that bitch. But he squashed such feelings. Hitting women wasn't his style. The same couldn't be said for other members of his family.
He opened the door slowly, and sure enough, the girl he slightly remembered was standing there. She was a petite girl, about 5'2 and maybe 100 pounds. She had short brown hair, with long bangs resting over her right eye. Her face was having a light outbreak of acne. While standing there, she picked at a zit nervously.
Scar leered over the girl, trying to look as intimidating as possible. “I don't sell drugs, girl.”
“But Tasha said that I could get some off of you.”
“Tasha don't know what the fuck she’s talking about.”
“But she said that you give her some when she is over here.”
“Well, Tasha's got a big mouth.”
“So...can you maybe give me some?”
His eyes narrowed. The girl's insistence was irritating him. “I ain't just gonna give you some.”
“Oh, I have money, if you want that. If not, I can do other things.”
Jenny May's bluntness astounded Scar. Though, he wasn't about to deny what she was implying. “Alright, whatever. Get in here.”
The skinny girl scurried in like a small mouse. In a way, her
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