Mr. Whitfield- By: Riley Rivers

Chapter XX

Mr. Whitfield walked out into the cold without his coat. He shivered but he ignored his body's tolerance to the icy air. The wind nipped at his nose and his teeth chattered. His breath was cool and crisp like that of a freezer when you open the door. Jesse crossed his arms tightly and shook off the chills as it started to snow.
"Brrrrrr!" He chattered. "I've got to get a damn coat or I'll freeze my ass off."
"Need a coat?" A man smoking a cigar asked.
"Yes, puh-lease." Mr. Whitfield shivered.
"Five-hundred bucks."
"$500? You crazy as hell."
"Well, I gotta make a living. Do you have $500?"
"Um..." Jesse checked his pockets and only found a dollar. "I have this."
"That's not even a $100 bill!"
"I'm sorry, I-I'm poor."
"No money, no coat."
"Please you have to understand, I'll die out here without something to keep me warm."
"Should have thought about keeping your clothes together when you could, bum."
"I left my coat in my apartment house."
"You're not poor, you're more like a liar!"
"I'm not a liar." He sneezed from the cold.
"I guess you're just going to have to die then, pal."
He sighed and pulled out his gun from his pocket. "I wish it didn't have to come down to this. I have this custom-made glock, it's not much but I hope it's worth the same as $500."
"Hmmm... She has a nice barrel, nice trigger, nice rocky pebble color, and she's a pretty good firm size."
"So what do ya say? Will you take it?"
"I'm actually not that much into custom-built glocks. They're just plain stupid as ****."
"Damn, ok then. I'll take her back." The man gave him back his gun and Jesse walked off into a corner of another alley. He laid against the brick wall shaking from the frosty chills and a nasal discharge commenced. Mr. Whitfield sneezed and held his shoulders tightly as he started to freeze. He cried wishing he never left home and coughed as he began to get sick. "Sh*t! Aw, ****! I'm going to die. In fact, I can't even feel my ******* hands." Jesse blew into his hands and it did no good. "Someone help!" His shivering hands picked up the glock off the concrete and he neared the butt of the gun in his mouth with quivering hands. Mr. Whitfield was going to blow his head off, so he would suffer no longer from being cold. His tongue rolled around the freezing metal tastefully and he cackled evilly at the thought of death. To be honest the thought never had crossed his mind until now and he was delighted in the pleasure of it. Jesse was mad-stricken, and he possibly had gone insane some-what. No, he was insane. He was very insane as well as mad-stricken, it was almost like his brain didn't exist and a devil had replaced it. A voice in his head created a repeating rhythm. Bam! Bam! Bam! Goes the sound of your gun. Damn! Damn! Damn! You're dead because you shot your head. What the hell is that smell? You've done it, and you can forbid it. You're dead because of ******* lead! Mr. Whitfield smirked at the demonic tune and cocked the gun, all he had to do now was pull the trigger and he would be dead. Only there was one small problem, his son's words interfered with his shot. Don't do it, Dad! Don't go off and kill yourself! He spat and shook off the words as his fingers eased onto the grip of the trigger. His wife from up above spoke to him through the clouds. Babe, don't kill yourself. Besides who will be there to care for our precious son? You'll always be my baby... He thought for a moment and whispered back in his head. If you love me. "****! "Nate still loves me and Nicole loves me from up above, therefore I am loved by many. What the hell am I doing trying to kill myself when I should be heading home to my son. He needs his father to love and be there for him when times are rough." Jesse managed to get his feet up and he ran as fast as he possibly could to his apartment house. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed his son's number.
"Hello?" Nate spoke.
"Hey, um. This is Dad look I-"
"Dad? Wh-what do you want?"
"I wanted to say I'm sorry for leaving the house when you made me mad. I-"
"Where are you? You sound like you're freezing."
"I'm coming to the house. I just started leaving the alley and yes I am freezing."
"Alley? What alley? Oh sh*t." It finally struck Nate, so he grabbed his father's jacket and dashed out the door with it.
"Nate? Nate!" Mr. Whitfield coughed.
"Don't worry Dad I'm coming!" Nate said through the cold wind.
"Nate! Where are you? I'm getting-" Jesse passed out on the ground from having such shortness of breath. He laid there until Nate found him and drug him home. Nate fixed him some warm chicken noodle soup at home and he ate it slowly.
"Dad! Are you okay?" He asked as he woke up.
"Ugh, what happened?"
"You passed out from being so cold."
"I did?" He asked, surprised.
"Yes, you did and I drug you home with my decent body strength."
"Thank you for taking me home, Nate." He sneezed.
"I think you should see a doctor just to be safe."
"I'm not sick." He replied stuffily with nasal congestion.
"Dad, I don't believe you."
"If I was sick my nose would be red. My nose is not red."
"It's really pink, I can tell you that and your eyes look very tired."
He blew his nose. "I'm fine."
"You feel like you have a fever. Open up and let me put this thermometer in your mouth."
"I'm twelling you. I'm nwot sick." He mumbled.
"Be quiet so I can get a good reading."
"Fwine."
"Thank you. Let's see. Ooo! 102.2 you're burning up Dad."
"That's nwot thwat bad."
"102.2 is a fever, Dad. I'm calling the hospital."
"No, pwease!" He begged. "I don't wanna gwo." He sneezed and the thermometer flew half-way across the room.
"You're sicker than a dog. You are going!"
"I am not. You're the one who's sick; sooo sick."
"We're going and you can't stop me."
"**** you, Nate."
"You can cuss like a sailor if you want, but you're still going."
"The hell I'm not too!"
"Dad, I will get the dog leash and I will make Diesel growl behind you."
Jesse burst into tears as he thought about his deceased wife.
"I'm serious!" Nate spat.
"No, Nate. I'm not crying about that."
"Then what are you crying about?"
"Your mom. I miss her so bad."
"Oh, Dad." Nathaniel Lee Whitfield hugged him.
"I want her back, I want her back!" He sobbed.
"Let it out, just let it out. Hey, it's ok. It'll be alright, Dad. I promise."
"I miss the pleasurable sex. I miss the sex, Nate! And her beautiful smile when I wake up every morning. Most importantly of all, I miss the desk sex we had. God, that was so ******* awesome! I wish she was here and I give it to her right. You know uh, satisfy her in the bedroom one last time. I'd do anything to see her face light up and smile the way it always does when she looks into my dreamy eyes." Mr. Whitfield sighed.
"Dad, have you ever considered? I don't know. Moving on?"
"Move on? You want me to move on from the fondest memory of your mother? How can I move on from her concupiscent ass?!"
"I-I don't know."
"Tell me what I should do."
"Maybe you should find someone to date you know?"
"Why? Nicole never would have wanted that!"
"Mom just wanted to make you happy and you know that. She'd do anything to please you and she'd let you do anything to please yourself."
"Errm... Maybe you're right."
"I'm right, Dad. Trust me."
"Nobody can replace her though."
"You haven't given anyone a shot yet. Here what about her? She likes those movies you like."
"Does she like dogs?"
"Uh, she's allergic to dogs."
"Ok, next."
"This next one loves masturbation. She practices it twice daily-with a pillow? I think she's also a hooker or a prostitute from the way she claims she gets money from sex."
"Um, that woman's a hard pass."
"Oh, here's a stripper. Damn, I'd date her in a heartbeat."
"Hell no. I'm not dating strippers and neither are you."
"Come on Dad. Open up a little, get out of your comfort zone."
"I'm already way out of my comfort zone." Jesse chuckled sarcastically.
"I bet she's a firefighter the way she hugs that-"
"Stop, stop, stop, stop. I don't want to hear this. You're grossing me out."
"This is the one. Right here. No STDs, never had sex, looking for straight males, desires to have sex, and not allergic to dogs. This one's for you."
"Does she like nerdy science teachers?"
"Umm. Let me check. I think so, but it doesn't say."
"Hmm... She is mighty fine-looking. Set me up with her."
"Ok. What are your flaws and strengths?"
"I'm smart. Uh, I have a high IQ of 210. Um, I like science. I like my dog..."
"We'll just say you're good at sex."
"No, no, no! Don't say that! Nate!"
"Matched. She says she wants to come over this Friday and have sex."
"Friday? Nate forget what I said, you're a genius."
"I already know." He smiled and his father hugged him.
"I'm going to have sex with a girl!"
"Uh, a woman we'll leave it at that."
"Girl, woman, female. They're all the same."
"A girl is like younger, Dad."
"Not necessarily."
"Sure, Dad sure."
"I get to have sex, I get to have sex!" Mr. Whitfield sang as he danced along with his son.
"Wait. I found another girlfriend. Can I date her please?" Nate showed his father a picture of a hot girl and he nodded.
"Sure, why the hell not!"
"Yay. I'll just say I've got condoms and I'm great at sex."
"And?"
"She said. Leave the condoms, I only want the sex-part."
"What are you going to say?"
"I said. Ok, baby. Come on over to my house Friday and we can get with it."
"What'd she say, what'd she say?"
"She said. I'll see you then, winky face."
"Yes!"
"I know!"
"We're going to have sex, we're going to have sex!" They both sang and danced along.
"My boy, you are such a genius. Would you like a beer just this once?"
"This is so ******* awesome dude!" Nate laughed as Jesse popped the top off.
"Totally. Cheers." He bumped his bottle against Nate's.
"Cheers." He smiled and Nate drank a sip of his bottle.
"How is it?"
"It tastes like Candice's ass." He spat it out immediately.
"Come on. It can't be that bad." Mr. Whitfield took a sip and threw it up. "Oh **** man! This crap tastes like sh*t! Uck!"
"I told you."
"What the hell even is this stuff? It's definitely not beer it tastes like sh*t!" He exclaimed and they poured all the beer out. Later they went to bed to sleep it off.