✔️The Greaser and the Skirtchaser [18+]

14. The Night Blake Got into Jenny's Bed

TW: Alcoholism, Domestic Abuse
"You little bastard," he growled before grabbing Blake by the back of his shirt and throwing him against the wall. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

All Blake could think about was not noticing that goddamn TV. This was so stupid. His old man should've been passed out cold in the bar or a ditch somewhere.

"Answer me, you little shit. Where do you get off sneaking into my goddamn house?" He started unbuckling his belt, and damn it, he was really in a mood today, wasn't he?

"There's fifteen on the—"

"You think you can come and go as you please, huh?" He cracked the belt across Blake's back. A stripe of pain lit across his back.

He really put his shoulder into that one. Or maybe he just had a lotta practice. Blake coughed out a groan.

He laid a few more lashes on Blake's back and shoulders. "You little good-for-nothing punk, constantly causing trouble! I come back from goddamn Pacific, and the old bitch just left me with you."

Maybe Blake did just cause trouble, but this was kinda overreacting. Blake girded himself for another crack, but there was nothing he could do when his back was just a throbbing mass of pain. "There's—there's cash on the table, alright?"

His old man wasn't even listening and whipped him again and again, cursing up a storm at him. The fury seemed to pass off because he just stood around grumbling and cursing for a minute before staggering off downstairs, probably to find that fifteen. Blake groaned.

The old bastard will probably be back once he got another beer, so Blake pushed himself onto his feet. Or at least he tried. He kinda stumbled back down, but he was on his feet with another try. He had to catch his breath against a wall, gritting his teeth as he rode out every wave of fire.

He could really go for a smoke right now.

Blake opened the window and reached for the downspout.

#

It was usually a waiting game when it was one of these nights. He had to kill maybe two or three hours to make sure his old man was really down and out for the count, so Blake could usually just take a long walk or some crap, but he'd been dumb enough to forget his jacket on a freezing night like this. Maybe he could tough it out somewhere, but he really didn't wanna test how long he could go without any layers. Blake figured he had to crash somewhere for a while. He had a few people he was on friendly-enough terms with, but most of them were sex-friends that probably wanted sex at this hour, but he really wasn't in a mood for that with all these welts on his back.

That significantly narrowed down the list, but at least the one at the top owed him a favor. That was why he was flinging pebbles at Jenny's window. It hurt like crazy, but thankfully Jenny opened her window after the second pebble plinked against it. She had her rollers on and everything, and she looked down at Blake like he was an axe-murderer. "What on earth are you doing here, Blake? Do you know what hour it is?"

"Felt like shooting the bull. Like old times!" He flashed her a grin.

"Jesus H. Christ. The door's right there. You're a lunatic, you know that, Blake? Wait at the front door." She shut her window.

He traipsed over her perfectly manicured front lawn to the big, elegantly carved front door. He had to walk some distance since her house was just massive even though it was just her parents and her living here, but her mom and dad were always out on business trips or vacations as they were right now. Blake could count the times he'd seen Jenny's parents on one hand. She opened the front door standing in this pink nightgown that barely passed the top of her thighs, and she had on this sheer robe. She had rollers in her hair, too. It was all weirdly scandalous.