The Walking Wolves of Tahoe: Slaughter

Chapter 25

The morning came and so did my retched alarm. There is nothing I loathe more than getting up and going to work. It's not the 'work' part that annoys me, it's the 'getting up' part that destroys my mood.

I haven't been on my game at work in days, okay...honestly, over a week, so I have a lot of catching up to do on projects I've neglected, phone calls I didn't make, and reports I didn't file. I will have a very busy day ahead of me.

But, while I'm a work, I plan on letting my Dad know that both Lola and I will be coming over for Sunday dinner this coming weekend. If Lola can be brave and face her fears to return back to me, then I can be brave and face my Mother.

You laugh, but I'm not really sure who has the biggest internal battle to fight.

As I stood there in the shower with the water beating down over me, my mind did wander back to our conversation last night. Lola did take all the new information well. Some she really wasn't too fond of, but over-all she was receptive to what I had to say. It's a whole new world to her but one I've always taken for granted.

Lola did bring up one important topic that totally needs my attention. I had no idea that Cleve Ripper had been so busy terrorizing my girl. Had I known about all his shitty-ass behavior, I would have gone to Aspen Acres myself and flipped over every trailer I could hoping that little insect would crawl out. Then I'd pulverize him.

It's not hard to piece it all together and know it was him. Lola told me about her flat tires at work. She told me about her shredded window screens. She told me about the scratches across her house's siding in the back. And she also told me how that little maggot's been crawling around on her roof trying to scare the crap out of her, and doing very well, I might add.

I know that Cleve is the one that ripped apart every bouquet of roses I had delivered to Lola...and she thought I was purposely sending her only the stems with no pedals to make a harmful threat. No wonder Lola refused to have any contact with me.

That sorry excuse for a Lupilor fucks with her plants, leaves cigarettes butts on her front porch, put a huge claw mark across her front door, steals her front door mat repeatedly, and removes all the outside lightbulbs.

My heart almost stopped when she confessed that she thought she had heard a man's voice inside her bedroom one night.

I wanted to go kill Cleve last night. I flew off the couch and was headed for the door but Lola wouldn't let me leave. She tried to calm me down and stressed over and over that her room was empty. She insisted it was only her mind playing tricks on her, but that's not what was running through my mind.

All I kept picturing was that little scruffy fuck hiding under Lola's bed.

I knew I had smelled someone else in Lola's house the last time I was there. I didn't share that with Lola. I didn't want to freak her out. Lola's come a long way to excepting 'the strange and unexplainable'. She will not, however, accept a creepy little fucker hiding under her bed.

No woman would.

None of the information Lola shared with me sat well, and consequently, I didn't sleep well.

I turned off the water and dried off, wondering if I should tell Nolan Savage or just handle Cleve Ripper myself. Every fiber of my being wants to hurt him in delicious new ways I haven't thought up yet.

I faced the mirror as I towel dried my uncontrollable wavy hair. I truly hate this shit and can't wait for the day I go bald. Bald would be so much easier than trying to tame my curls. I cut them off constantly. I hate them...but Lola seems to like my waves, so I tolerate my hair at a length that drives me crazy.