Squeak

Daddy's Home

Papa King

I peered down at my son's girlfriend, who was nothing like I expected. She was a beautiful young woman with a face like a cherub--sweet and innocent--a little too innocent if you asked me. She had a face that made you want to let your guard down and an hourglass shape that was distracting enough. It'd be too late by the time you realized what she had up her sleeve.

Her pretty mouth gaped in shock, and she crumpled to the ground when my beloved son took her right knee out with his cane.

It's good to be back home.

"Erik! Why did you hit me?!" she screamed as she nursed her knee.

"Because you were checking my dad out!"

"I...I..."

"Don't even fucking lie," Erik snarled. "You better be glad I caught you and not my mother or you would've joined the 6 Feet Under Club with Charles!"

"I... you look just like him!"

"No shit. It's called genetics," Erik barked. He threw down his walking cane and staggered towards me. I couldn't help how my chest filled with pride as I stared at my youngest son.

As a parent, it's my job to prepare my children for the world, and Erik is about to learn the biggest lesson of them all: Hell hath no fury as a woman scorned.

I lit a cigarette as I watched Jezebel climb to her feet with a vengeance in her eyes--eyes that initially appeared doe-like and full of wonder were now slanted with rage. She winced as she grabbed the cane and raised it high above her head. She was fully prepared to bludgeon my son right before my eyes.

I can respect that.

I watched the smile slide off my son's face like a runaway egg yolk when she cracked him in the back of the head. He hit the ground in a jumbled heap.

I smoked my cigarette in the doorway of my wife's deceased husband's home and observed how my son's blood curled around the tips of my Italian leather shoes.

"You killed my son."

"He's not dead, but he's going to wish he was if I'm taking Homecoming pictures in a knee brace. Ow...it hurts so bad," she whined. "Drag him to the study. I need to find something to stop the bleeding."

"You're a bossy little bitch."

"And your son loves it," she scoffed before limping away with the cane.

"Oh, my beautiful son. What have you gotten yourself into?"

***

"He'll need stitches."

I smiled softly when I heard Jezebel say, "Thanks, Captain Obvious," under her breath.

Teenagers.

I located Charles' liquor cabinet and poured two glasses of bourbon while Jezebel cooed to my unconscious son about how she'd fix him up and how he shouldn't have made her do it.

"Have a drink with me, Jezebel."

She narrowed her eyes at me skeptically.

She's cautious. That's good.

"No, thank you. I don't drink."

"You do now," I said, shoving the tumbler toward her. I said it in a tone that didn't leave room for rebuttal. She accepted the crystal glass with a shaky blood-covered hand. I lifted my glass to her in a toast and gulped the contents. "Charles has exquisite tastes in spirits and women," I said, chuckling at my own joke; however, Jezebel did not seem amused. "Drink up," I demanded, pouring myself another glass.

She winced after taking the first sip but eventually drained the glass. I was on my third by the time she finished.

"Good shit, huh?"

"I'll take your word for it."

I grabbed the revolver tucked in my waistband, cocked the hammer, and aimed it at Erik.

"What are you doing?" she screamed before diving over his limp body. She shook violently as she shielded him from death.

"Move out of the way, Jezebel."

"W-why are you doing this?" she cried.

"My reasons are my reasons. Move out of the way."

"N-no. I'm not moving."

"I've been cooped up in prison for so long. Someone must die. It's either you or him...choose." I pressed the muzzle of my revolver against the back of her skull. Her trembling intensified so much that I could almost hear her bones rattle. "What did you say?" I asked after receiving a muffled response.

"M-me. Shoot me."

"Are you sure? You still have time to change your mind."

"Shoot me!" she yelled.

"Very well." I lifted the gun and shot the wedding picture of that chump bastard and my wife that hung on the wall. "Congratulations, Jezebel Holmes. You're in love with my son."

I laughed darkly before plopping into an armchair across from the young, tormented couple.

"King," she whispered.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to speak up."

She finally found the courage to look up and address me properly. My son's blood from his once gushing head wound coated most of her face. My eyebrows raised when she licked the blood from her top lip and smoothed her long hair with her fingers.

"My name is Jezebel Shae King."

I couldn't help the lopsided grin that graced my face.

My son has certainly done a number on this young lady. Good for him.

"All right, Jezebel Shae King...let's talk."

Author's Note

The next update will be on 07/26/2023.