Lexington And Fifth

Chapter 23: Drunk and Angry

(Author's Note: This chapter was due to be released earlier in the weekend. However, after some tragic events that claimed several lives this Friday and Saturday, I opted to hold off on publishing until Monday. I hope you all will understand, and will enjoy this week's chapter now. My thoughts are with those affected by recent tragedies. Thank you for understanding. Now, onto the all new chapter of Lexington and Fifth.)

Greg sat in a dive bar five minutes away from his apartment in Fontana, CA, drinking as he always did but with a more furious purpose than normal. The bartender and owner, Wayne, knew Greg to be one of his regulars, and although he could get angry when he was drunk, he normally kept quiet in a back corner of the bar. However tonight was different, as the man had stumbled in, already half-wasted and filled with a righteous anger Wayne had never seen in another man before.

"Goddamn women, what the hell do they know?" Greg was shouting to the near empty bar. It was ten-thirty at night, and although they stayed open until midnight, Wayne was itching to get home after a few hours spent listening to this raving madman.

"Damn women," Greg continued, "They think they know everything. Think they can tell you how to live, tell me how to go about living my goddamn life? Fuck them! She doesn't know me. She did this to me!"

"I'm sure she did. Listen man, we're going to wrap up for the night," Wayne replied, wiping down a few glasses on the bar with his rag. Wayne ran his hand across his forehead, his long hair hanging across his eyes as he worked to close up the bar.

"I...I'm not finished ye...ye...yet," Greg stammered, holding onto the bar as he stood up.

"Yes you are pal. Last call has come and gone, and I'm ready to head home."

"F....fine," Greg replied slowly, stumbling towards the door.

"You need a cab?" Wayne asked.

"N...no, I'm walking home," Greg replied, throwing up a hand and waving off the bartender. Wayne shook his head, and made sure to watch the drunk make it out his door before he locked it up tight for the night.

"Good riddance to that asshole," Wayne muttered, getting ready to close up for the night.

As Greg stumbled down the street, heading home, Howie Ingram followed him closely in his car, watching the man whom he planned to kill within the hour. Every drunken step he took was another nail in the coffin, and although he was utterly disgusted with the idiot on the street, he also was thrilled to be on the precipice of his most satisfying kill yet. This waste of human space was the mastermind behind his brother's death, and soon he would be looking through his brother's eyes, watching as the life faded from his body.

"Soon," Howie muttered, "you will die, Greg. You spineless motherfucker, you will die."