Bullets In A Cold Winter Breeze

Chapter Twenty-Eight All Caught Up

**Trent POV** 09/10/2014... (Time Unknown)

"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!" The incoming copter blades whistle viciously, waking me up on full alert. I take an annoyed exhale, stretching out my limbs as I prepare for another few hours with nothing left for me to do but think. And after the rejection I've just received from Dalyla, that's not something I'm inclined to do at all. Still, for the time being, I collect my chair, bullet casings, and cooler. Needing to occupy my thoughts at all costs, I focus on the sound of the air scissors continuing their oxygen chopping. "Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"

"Good to see you, Mr. T! I hope all is well." My helicopter pilot, James, screams over the spinning fans after I've made my way to the chopper.

"Mr. Pilot, how are you doing?"

"I'm alright, sir. Glad to see you're still alive... Would you like to abide by the schedule you originally selected... Might be wise, so Mrs. P isn't too suspicious." James suggests nosily with a smirk. In reality, he's trying to get me to tell him the details of what happened. However, nothing about what just happened is any of his business.

"However you gotta play it, so I'm arriving at my home by 8:30 AM tomorrow morning."

"I can handle that, no problem!" He assures, handing me the headphones before I claw to the back of the helicopter. I fall into a dark pit of restless sleep, having no thoughts or dreams of the past or future.

****** 09/11/2014 (Thursday, 8:29 A.M, CTZ)

"Trent, wake yo punk ass up. Boy, I am not the pilot! I ain't carrying yo ass." Marley alerts me, snapping me out of my dreamless sleep. "We at yo crib."

"Huh?" I slur drunkenly. I keep my eyes closed as the sound of Marley's beautiful voice fills my ears.

"Trent, I'm ready to go back home. Get yo ass out my car."

"I can't go in there, Melanie gon know," I slur, rubbing my tired eyes before opening a single one to see the car is parked right before the steps.

"Trent, I'll go up there and tell her myself if you don't get the fuck out,"

"You wouldn't do me like that, would you?"

"Nigga, I've wanted to fuck Melanie since you first brought her around, don't tempt me to get a jealous fuck out of her." She giggles, putting a smile on my face. "Those are always the best."

"You fuck her, I fuck you," I whisper, grabbing the door handle before exiting her 2013 Gray Maserati Quattroporte. She donates Melanie two honks before easing around the circular part of our drive and back onto the long path out of the gate. In no rush to meet the problem waiting for me inside, I watch the imprints of her fresh tire tracks left on the heat-censored driveway. Once she's out of sight, I grab the bridge of my nose with closed eyes as I debate if I want to head to my right and go through the garage. Or if I just want to head straight up the twenty stairs to the front door. Two sets of five steps and then one set of eleven stairs smirk at me crabbily as I begin the drunken haul.

**Melanie POV**

"Why wasn't my woman waiting on me at the airport?" Trent roars, breezily walking into our bedroom, already half-naked. Without waiting on my answer or even looking me in the eye, he runs into the bathroom, where through the closed door, I can hear his long hard stream of piss being relieved. His usual intoxicating scent of Gucci cologne has been dulled to a hundred percent alcohol, which gets my nose to turn up. If I'm not the one consuming it, the smell repels me.

"How'd your field trip go?" I survey, feeling a little more anxious about his answer now that he's away from his elementary and middle school girlfriend. The fact that I let him do it alone seemed like a good idea when I needed to secure a few legit business deals. However, now that the trade ventures are complete and he's home dodging me, I feel stupid. Very stupid.