Vince causes a scene at the bar and Leslie Macher intervenes.
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Vince saw red and swung, punching Dewey in the face, he lets the man collapse on a heap and he grabs the scruff of his flannel and lifts him up about to punch him again until noise filled the bar, dead silence following afterward as Vince let's go of Dewey at the sight of a blonde woman. She threw a twenty dollar bill on the counter before she taps her manicured nails on the side of the bar counter, eyeing up the damage of Dewey's face before it lands on the culprit; Her Son. Vince.
"Vince, let's go."
All eyes fell upon Vince as he picks up his switchblade and puts it in his pocket and followed the woman out of the bar without hissing out threats to see Liv soon or to watch their backs. He knew that he was definitely screwed.
"Keys,"
Vince froze as he looked down at his pocket and then at his mother. "Ma."
"Keys, now."
Vince sucked on his breath before fishing out his car keys and he handed the keys to his mother and got in the passenger side of his own car.
She got in and starts the car and they drove in silence. Vince chewed on his bottom lip as he was getting really anxious at the silence. His chest was tight and his cut on his knuckles stung when he had punched Dewey. He had forgotten to wet them at the bar. His phone vibrated against his thigh.
He declined to answer it and let it rang.
Vince stared at the passing cars until she flipped on his turn signal and pulled into the driveway.
"Get out of the car."
Vince nervously unclipped his seatbelt and got out of his own car.
Leslie climbed out and slammed the car door leading him inside the house. Leslie placed the keys down on the counter with a small clutter.
"Do you know how I knew about this little altercation?" she asked in a calm voice, a voice that sounded like the calmness before the storm. "No," Vince replied, trying his best to not stutter. "I heard from a little birdie that you've been stalking children ever since the summer." She said, making Vince roll his eyes as he looked away. He knew a lecture was coming his way.
"I see you've been sending some explicit messages to that McKenzie girl." She said calmly again but through gritted teeth. Vince didn't get it, how did she know? And secondly, why did she care so much?
"Uh, yea."
Leslie began to tap her manicured nails on the table. Vince tried to stop himself from flinching. "Do you know how that makes me look?" she asked but not anymore in a calm voice, her words were soaked with venom. She looked even more furious when Vince hadn't answered. "SPEAK WHEN SPOKEN TO!" she said, and Vince couldn't hold himself back from saying "Oh, spare me the fucking lecture."
He knew the second the remark left his mouth that he made the wrong decision. "What did you just say?!" she asked, her voice more venomous than ever. "N-Nothing." He said and cursed himself for stuttering like a Pansy bitch. "No, say it again," she growled.
When she knew he wouldn't repeat himself, she took a step towards him, and grabbed him by the jaw, making him flinch. "ANSWER ME."
"N-Nothing." he stammered in a low voice, knowing he really had pushed it.
"So you said nothing?" she said, her voice dangerously low and venomous. "Y-Yes," Vince answered, preparing himself for a slap that he knew would come but none came.
He looked at his mother, panicked as he saw red as he raced for the staircase, Leslie lunged forward, wrapping a hand around his hair and pulled hard, pulling him away from the stairs. He screamed, getting dragged into the kitchen and pushed him forward, suddenly causing Vince to smash into the wall.
Leslie lunged, wrapping a hand around his throat in a vice like grip. He tried to gasp but no air could make it past her hands. His fingers dug at her hands as she squeezed with so much pressure she saw red and couldn't stop she was fuming. Vince's struggles were weak as he kept trying to pry her fingers away from his throat. His world grew spotty, he choked and flailed his arms about as he kept struggling, using anything he could to get her to stop. All hope was lost It started to fade away, the gracious release of death so close now. Pain evaporated into a tingling numbness that spread up into his brain. He was dying, and nothing felt more splendid in this time.
A knock was heard and then it stopped. The pain came back, crashing into him like a truck. His throat was freed and an involuntary gasp sucked down air painfully. It felt like swallowing spikes as he choked and coughed and heaved, hungrily gasping for air.
Breathing was a chore, choking and gasping. Footsteps slowly move to the door as he was an array of tangled limbs.
Leslie Macher, tilted her head to tower over her son, stepping over him again, she left him on the kitchen tiled floor as he lets out each wheezing breath.
"I'm going go fix your mess." Leslie scoffed before she bid the culprit for now and again steps over him, leaving the tangled limbs, beginning her search for Dewey Riley.
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