His Vanilla Girl | ✔

Chapter Six

Sylvester quirked an eyebrow at her word usage. He knew someday that photo would come back and bite him in the butt, but how did she find it? She didn't seem the type to go scouring through old magazines or men's underwear online.

The picture was taken back in the day when a girlfriend begged him to model for her new clothing line, and he'd done it with great reluctance, much to his mother's displeasure. His mom was a great one for vocalizing her disappointments. And being the oldest child, he was her focal point. She wanted him to have a normal life with a wife and kids, and not the scandalous life he chose for himself. She wanted him to be a good example.

It's not like he went around blabbing about it to everyone he knew. She was the only one in his close inner circle who knew of his extracurricular activities. When his picture came out, she'd immediately called him up to rant, despite it being his life and his choice.

He did regret it though. Karen hadn't been interested in being a wife or a mother. She just wanted him for his body and how much money he could make her. He learned as much when she aborted his baby. Sylvester pressed the heel of his hand against his chest, trying to stifle the ache that arose from just thinking about what happened.

A car honked outside and Oscar wandered over to the window. "Sy, your cab's here."

"One more beer for the road, Oscar?"

"I think you've had enough, dear friend," the bartender said, helping him out of his seat and out the door to the cab.

He'd love another beer. Beer and sex were the only things that he could count on to give him pleasure. They were only things he could trust not to disappoint him. His family, women, everyone pushed him away, turned on him, like he was the black sheep or something.

"Where to, bud?" the cab driver asked, as Sylvester lay sprawled out in the backseat.

"Sylvester's Sex Emporium."

And just as Sylvester quirked an eyebrow at Maria's message, the driver did the same to him upon hearing the name.

"I know. I know. Just drive please." Sylvester slung a hand over his eyes as the bumpy cab pulled away from the curb.

He hadn't responded to her message yet because he didn't trust his fingers to work on the small keypad on his phone, especially while he was seeing double of everything. Sending a message full of gibberish wouldn't go over well. Initially he tried, but he couldn't even remember how to spell his name. Sylvester just felt foreign to him, like it didn't belong to him.

The cab pulled up to his place and Sylvester stepped out of the car, stumbling over the curb. The driver rolled down the window. "Did you need any help getting inside," he asked.

Sylvester waved him off. "I'll be fine."

Passing by the flashing three red X's in the front bay window, he entered the alley way, where the stairs to his apartment were located. They looked like an insurmountable obstacle course, as they swayed to the left and to the right, making him nauseous.

Screw it. He stumbled back to the front of the red brick building, passing the triple X display and walked to the front door. Pulling the keys out of his pocket, he tried to remember which key fit the lock.

The world around him was strangely silent. No cars or people were on the road this time of night, and the street light on the corner was acting like a strobe light, getting ready to flash for the last time. Hopefully it didn't take much longer because it was giving him a bloody migraine.

Finally, he jammed the right key in the lock and pushed the door open. Suddenly, a sharp searing pain burst through his skull as something solid slammed into the back of his head. He fell to the ground hard, smacking his head on the linoleum floor.