intoxicated- rafe cameron

six

Once again, I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

After a longer drive than I had anticipated, Rafe pulls up a dirt driveway. I wouldn't dare call it a house, but he parks in front of it.

It's a tiny, beat-up trailer home with no yard, no garden... no nothing. Well, besides a large amount of broken patio furniture, trash piles, and an older-looking mobile home parked a few feet away.

This place looks like ass, and looks like it smells the same.

In a fucked up way, it reminds me of the type of houses I grew up in in the foster care system.

Rafe must laugh when he sees my reaction to the dump. "Damn! If I'm going to bring you somewhere, you might as well at least pretend like you're having a good time," he smiles. He puts his car into park and unbuckles his seat belt.

"Are you joking?" I ask, turning to him for guidance.

He shakes his head, his smile only growing bigger and bigger by the second.

"Rafe Cameron, I am not going in there with you," I say. I cross my arms over my chest and look into his eyes. "This looks disgusting... And, I can't help but shake the feeling that the person that lives here looks and smells even worse than this place already does."

He unbuckles my seatbelt for me and opens his door. "Come on, princess. It would be a real bummer if I had to cancel the fun night that our friends planned for us all because you wouldn't do this one thing for me," he says, slowly getting out of the car, not removing his eyes from mine. "Can't you just do this one thing for me?"

I curse under my breath before getting out of the safety of Rafe's car.

"Just to warn you, there may be some wack people here. Just ignore them. But, we'll be out of here before you know it," he explains.

I nod.

He leads me up the creaky wooden stairs to the covered patio that looks even worse than the curb appeal of the house.

Parts of the screened-in patio are ripped apart, there are random pipes, tools, trash, ashtrays, broken furniture, and dust everywhere. Sitting on a broken couch in the middle of it all is a guy with long, black hair, knotted into a low ponytail behind his prominent face and a set of yellow, crooked teeth. His hair is so dirty that it looks like it got slicked back with grease from his own filthy scalp.

He looks up and smiles when he sees Rafe. "Country Cluh!" the man slurs. "I didn't expect you to be back so soon, yet, here you are." He smiles and then shifts his gaze over to me. "Oh! It also looks like you found yourself a Mrs. Country Cluh, too!"

Rafe rolls his eyes. "Look Barry, you know what I'm here for." Rafe digs around in his pocket for a wad of cash and throws it at the crusty man. 

He responds with a happy smile. "Of course. Follow me," Barry starts. They make it a few steps before he turns back around and points at me. "You have to stay here though," he says.

Rafe looks at him dead in the eye. "No. She's coming with us. I don't want her here alone with all the dicks you keep around here," Rafe goes on. He looks at me and holds out his hand.

I don't take it.

"Alright then, but just know that anywhere she goes, my friends will be," Barry sighs.

"Let's just make it quick," Rafe says.

I follow the two of them inside Barry's house. It's filthy on the inside, too, go figure. There's dirt and grime everywhere. Dirty dishes seem like they're stacked to the ceiling with ever-growing mold. There is trash littered all over the floor, and we can't help but kick it as we walk down the hallway toward the other end of the trailer home.