Changing Seasons

Twenty-Four

****

When Michael's sister, Miranda, asked where Athena was, he sneered and said, "She took off with some fucking dude who had a bigger bag than me."

Miranda's face flickered a look of disbelief, but she was silent. She was younger than Michael, seventeen, a year younger than Athena, and had always been kind to Athena. Michael often talked like he'd rescued Athena, that because her family had been such shit, she should be grateful to have him. Krist wanted to ask how bad exactly they were and if Michael was better, especially given the fact she had only been fifteen when the twenty-four-year-old invited her to live with him.

"I told you she was trash," Darren, his father, smirked. He and his wife never hid their disdain for the girl. Their son deserved better than some little slut whose own family didn't even want her, and that made that clear to her. If Michael put his hands on her in front of them, they'd tell her she had it coming.

Krist once saw Michael open hand slap her so hard that she'd fallen, holding her face. Darren simply laughed, told her she'd better put some ice on that shit, and then called her a dumb bitch.

****

Michael ended up being correct. Athena did not return home the next day and was almost gleeful when Crystal from the strip club told him and Krist to come by.

She lived in a dingy apartment in Gresham, just outside of southeast Portland. She had a roommate, Monica, who was your run-of-the-mill bag bitch. She was flabby and skinny, wore cakey makeup, and had frizzy bleach-blond hair.

"Damn, she's even hotter than Crystal," Michael texted him from the opposite side of the couch. Fucking Michael.

Being that he was in the Portland area, he texted Fernando, "Hey bro, I'm out here in Gresham wyd."

"drivin, like 4 hours from there, wyd in Gresham foo"

"Kicking it with some Michael and some bag hoes."

Fernando, "Shit, that's wassup, fuck one for me, homeboy." He'd read the last text in Fernando's voice and stifled a laugh.

Krist spent the next three days with Michael and those chicks, twerking, fucking, and dealing with their drama.

Crystal's baby daddy showed up with his new girlfriend the second day because he'd heard some dude was over there. Who told him? Nobody knew. Krist assumed Monica because she seemed hella shady. Krist was also baffled as to why it mattered if there were dudes there. Crystal had told them she had a kid, but the kid lived with her mom in Estacada, and clearly, the baby daddy had a new chick. Whatever. Fucking tweaker shit.

He had barged into the apartment with the new girlfriend looking for a fight. He was all of 5'4 and 120 pounds, what the fuck what this dude trying to do?

He and Michael talked shit back and forth for a good five minutes, going back and forth with the "so wassup," "wassup bro" until Krist got tired of hearing it and dropped the baby daddy with one good punch. The baby daddy's girlfriend started screeching and tried to stab Michael with a pocket knife, tearing his shirt and leaving a superficial flesh wound.

She helped the baby daddy to his feet and they fled, "Imma be back," he threatened.

"Oh my god, that was so hot when you knocked his ass out," Monica swooned.

Krist smiled, "That wasn't anything really."

"So you got a girlfriend or anything?" She'd wanted to know, pulling him in to her bed. He shook his head, pushing her panties to the side.