*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
Chapter 1
Tommy MacElroy lay awake, not by choice, but because his wife's snoring was entering the third phase. It would stay at Phase Three for a few moments, a deep rumbling snore on each intake of breath, and then enter Phase Four. Phase Four was a deep rumbling snore on each intake of breath and a moaning hiss on each outflow of breath.
Phase Five, since Kaitlin had drank only beer tonight, would be a harsh snorting gasp on the intake. This phase, since she'd
Only drank beer, was usually enough to wake her.
Sometimes she'd take a sip of water from the glass she kept on her bedside table and this would slow the onset of Phase One, a deep breathing that would end with a little 'harrumph' at the end, then an outgoing sigh. Phase Two was quick to follow, a light snoring intake of breath.
If she drank hard liquor, which Kaitlin was wont to do, Phase One would very quickly morph into Phase Four, then Phase Five, but if she drank enough whiskey, Phase Five would go on and on until he jostled her enough to rouse her slightly.
Woe be it to Tommy, though, if he jostled Kaitlin too much, rousing her from her drunken slumber. Then his shrill wife would scream at him for waking her and she did not believe that she snored.
Kaitlin Monroe had drank only beer tonight because her mother, Patricia Monroe, her two brothers, the twins Chad and Jeffrey, and Sister Hillary had come over for 'a nice little family get-together.'
A 'nice little family get-together' usually consisted of long moments of awkward silence, punctuated by his mother in law pointing out that they were both nearly thirty years of age; why did they still live in an apartment? They were nearly thirty years of age; why didn't Tommy have a real job? They were nearly thirty years of age; did they ever plan on having children? And Chad and Jeffrey glaring with undisguised hostility at him. Hillary sympathized with Tommy, but since she often joined her sister in drinking, was unable to do more than just say 'come on y'all, leave him alone' every so often.
His own wife, who was the one that had decided they would wait on children, would just smirk at him when her mother brought up their lack of children. His wife, the formerly beautiful, voluptuous Kaitlin Monroe, now just a bloated remnant of her former beauty, would just smirk when her mother made snide remarks about his job at Clark's Drive-In.
Never mind the fact that it was his job that paid their rent, their groceries, Kaitlin's unending law school tuition, books, and other incidentals.
No, he rarely had any money left over, but he was paying their
bills.
Phase Five lasted for nearly three minutes until she jerked awake. Much to his relief, she did take a gulp of water before flopping back down into her mountain of pillows.
He put his fist into her back as she attempted to roll over, keeping her facing away from him. Now, maybe he could fall asleep.
For a few years, Kaitlin Monroe seemed to be happy with keeping their relationship where it was. He worked at Delphi's Diner as an assistant manager while she occasionally went to school, then took one or two semesters off 'to recharge.' She was happy still living at home with her beloved father, Judge Harold Monroe, mother Patricia, sister and two brothers.
Tommy had professed his love for her, had been professing this love since they'd first started dating in high school. Upon their graduation in 2005, he had proposed marriage and Kaitlin did not outright decline, but did say they would wait. Tommy knew then he should have walked and wished now he had done just that. But Kaitlin was always willing to let him play with her thirty eight E breasts and always willing to let him pound her hairless slit. She seemed to be especially turned on by danger; the fact that, at any moment, her father might storm into her room and catch
Them really got her motor running.
But every time Tommy brought up marriage, she would ask what the hurry was.
Then the summer riot of 2012, Delphi's Diner was one of the many DeGarde businesses that had gone up in flames.
DeGarde Dance Studio, the small studio right next door to the diner had also fell victim to the Angels 270's murderous rampage.
Tommy and Kizzy Clark, a friend and former classmate, stood, staring at the smoldering ruins of their places of employment. Kizzy held onto him and sobbed; she had loved dancing, had loved teaching dancing, and had genuinely loved each and every student of hers.
"Hey, boy," Stan Delchon, third generation owner of Delphi's Diner, the grandson of the original Mr. Delphi, gruffly said. "This is it; wife's been after me for ten years sell it now, Stan Junior and Barbara? They want nothing do with it; believe that? Place paid for them go to them fancy ass hotsy totsy schools of theirs and they don't even want to know. But, what're you going to do, huh? God damned kids, huh? Here, boy; you was a good kid; always liked you; you take care now."
With that, he stuffed a wad of one hundred dollar bills into Tommy's hand, patted the young man on the shoulder, and got into his Lincoln Continental and drove away.
Numbly, Tommy stuffed the money into his pocket. He jerked when his cell phone rang.
"Tom... Tommy?" Kaitlin sobbed into the telephone. "Tommy? My daddy? Those animals, those animals..."
Between fits of sobbing and screaming and wailing, Tommy was able to decipher that her father, the honorable Judge Harold Monroe had been gunned down as he sat in his black Mercedes-Benz.
The riot, in particular the Judge's murder and the funeral did receive much local attention.
Tommy thought it the height of hypocrisy that no one mentioned that the Judge had been in an area of Bender known to be frequented by prostitutes and their clientele.
A month after the murder, Chad and Jeffrey walked a chastened Kaitlin Monroe up the aisle to where a solemn Tommy MacElroy waited.
It bothered him, and his mother, that Kaitlin refused to take his last name. Her reasoning that 'Monroe is a name known and respected in the legal field of St. Elizabeth Parish' held very little water for Tommy or Gladys MacElroy,
But Kaitlin was adamant. Again, Tommy reflected as he stared at the unsympathetic digital clock, he should have walked away.
That evening, Tommy had toiled in the kitchen after toiling all day at Clark's Drive-In, making the lasagna, while Kaitlin spent her time putting on her make-up and trying on a few dresses and asking his opinion of each dress. He didn't know why she asked his opinion; no matter what he said, he was wrong for not noticing that she'd worn this dress the last time her family visited, or that there was a small tear right at the sleeve's arm hole, or it didn't' go with the shoes she had on.
"Looks like shit, Honey, why don't you just wear a table cloth and a pair of jumper cables?" he said after the sixth dress showing.
"God damn, don't know why I even fucking bother; you're such a fucking ass hole," she had shrilled, stomping away.
Thankfully, there was a harsh knock at the door, ending the fashion parade. Unfortunately, because he'd had to tidy up the apartment while also cooking dinner, the meal would be another twenty minutes before it could be served.
Twenty minutes. Twenty long minutes of uncomfortable silence or complaints. Twenty long minutes of Chad, Jeffrey, Hillary and Kaitlin helping themselves to his beer while Patricia complained about the low-quality wine he served. Low-quality or not, it did not stop her from emptying nearly the entire liter bottle.
Kaitlin's Phase Three started, but Tommy had finally managed to fall asleep.
The next morning was a blustery, cold November day, so Tommy fixed them both oatmeal for breakfast, but made sure to have plenty of sugar on hand. Kaitlin would render the breakfast nearly white with the amount of sugar she would heap into the bowl, all the while complaining that she hated oatmeal. He also had a steaming mug of coffee and a tall glass of orange juice ready.
"Morning," she groggily mumbled, staggering into the kitchen.
He looked at her in the harsh morning light. They were both twenty seven years old, but Kaitlin looked almost forty, with blotchy, puffy skin, wrinkles on her forehead, lifeless blonde hair that needed a serious washing. She had jowls that hung down and two double chins.
Standing nude in their small kitchen/dining room, her breasts, once two proud globes of flesh, were now sagging lumps of flesh that reached below her navel. Her pubic mound was scruffy looking; she had not bothered to shave it in several days. Her belly also protruded; she used to have a tiny waist. Her belly now mirrored her rear end, which was a fat jiggling mound above each cottage cheese thigh.
But she was his wife and he loved her. He had fallen in love with her because she was a beauty and he found it hard to turn that love off, even if she scarcely resembled that girl from so long ago.
He had no illusions of what he looked like. He still had the head of dark curls he'd had in high school. He still had the muscular arms and chest he'd had in high school; hard work made sure of that. His belly was beginning to soften just a bit; he resolved to do ten extra push ups that morning and each morning after that to try to get that tight abdomen he had been so proud of. His thighs and calves were also muscular; he spent many hours on his feet, running here and there, making sure the diner ran smoothly.
But there were lines on his face now and a few strands of gray were beginning to shoot through his dark curls. His mother would always comment on how tired he looked whenever he would come over to see her.
"Fucking hate oatmeal," Kaitlin grumbled, heaping three tablespoons of sugar into the bowl.
"Uh huh, cold outside, thought a good hot breakfast would get your day started right," Tommy said, taking his own bowl into the living room to eat at the couch.
To his left was the Judge's leather recliner. The chair had sat in Harold Monroe's home office, a big overstuffed ugly blue monstrosity that Kaitlin just had to have.
Tommy thought it was a very fitting reminder of Judge Harold Monroe. A large, overstuffed, ugly monstrosity that was an inconvenience.
"Oh, oh, oh, I need twenty bucks; see, it's Parker's birthday so we're all going to that Casa Ole's for lunch," Kaitlin interrupted his mindless ruminations.
"Oh, oh, oh! Tough shit; electric bill was almost three hundred this month because someone kept forgetting turn off the heater when she left," Tommy snapped. "Guess they'll just have to go to his birthday party without you."
"Fine, fucking ass hole," Kaitlin snarled bitterly.
Tommy made sure his wallet was firmly in his pocket until she got dressed and slammed out of the apartment, already twenty minutes late for class. He wasn't worried about her; she would either swing by her mother's, or by Hillary's place of work, or even borrow the money from a co-worker at the Law Office of Johnson, Johnson, and Lambert.
Since he did not have to go to work until four that evening, Tommy stretched out in the bed and was asleep within seconds of laying down.
