The good guy

A week ago, I was a good man, a husband, a lawyer. Now, here I am with a glock19 in my hand and Frank fucking Laine at my feet with a bloody hole through his wrinkled forehead. I’m not kidding, I thought I was a model husband. My wife Loretta was about to have our third child, a girl finally, just like she wanted. We had the perfect little family, the perfect house, and perfect friends. I was a civil rights lawyer, I always thought of myself as a wholesome human being.

One day my oldest son had a party for his tenth birthday. He has always been a popular kid, my Jimmy boy. Our back yard was full of his friends, Loretta was gossiping in the kitchen with her mom friends. Then there was this one guy, stood at the back of the yard on his own, must have been in his thirties. He looked like a child lost in a fucking supermarket. Skinny as anything but he had a kiton k50 suit on his shoulders, a Rolex on his wrist but he had some tacky looking chain around his neck.

I walked up to this guy, since there were few men at the partly, I decided to introduce myself to him and we exchanged the usual small talk. Turns out his wife divorced him after he got sent to prison a year ago and this was his weekend to look after their kid Aiden and his wife forced him to take charge of getting him to this party. Just talking to the guy for ten minutes, I can already tell his wife wore the trousers in their relationship. The longer I stood there the more confused I got as to how this scrawny boy standing in front of me was ever capable of making a baby with a woman, not to mention criminal behaviour. No matter how much I tried to dig into him with my big lawyer words, he would not give any clues as to what kind of criminal activity got him sent to prison. After talking to him about our wives and kids, I could tell I was making him anxious so I shook his hand, took an appreciative glance at his watch and headed back over to my chair by the pool and opened up another beer.

As it started to get darker, parents and their children went home, I said goodnight to my boys, and they went up to bed. It was just me and my beautiful wife cleaning up the back yard. I stood up, put my left hand around her waist, took her hand in my right and kissed her on the forehead. “You go rest, I’ll finish cleaning up” I told her, and like the trusting wife that she is, she softly kissed me lips, said goodnight and went up to bed. As soon as I saw her walk up those stairs I sat back down, continued to drink my beer and I pulled out my cell phone and I type in the name, Jonathan Laine. This fucking guy had shot his own father in the chest, It missed his heart and the guy survived but still. How had he gotten out of prison after just one year and how was he still dressing in luxury. I quickly put the phone down and rubbed my eyes as if I were trying to shake the idea and self-pity out of my head. I finished cleaning the yard and then I joined my wife in bed, like a good husband.

I woke up the next morning at four A.M, I stared at the ceiling and for a good ten minutes I thought to myself, I bet Jonny fucking Laine didn’t have to get up at four A.M every morning and work all day to pay for his Rolex. Shaking off the thought again I rolled out of bed, pulled my cheap suit out of my wardrobe, and went to shower. Like any husband with a nine-month pregnant wife, I jerked off in the shower, gave my body and quick wash and proceeded to dry off and get dressed for work.

5:50 A.M I get to work, I usually arrive at 5:45 but I thought I would see how far I could push my luck if a man can shoot his father and get away with only a year in prison, I figured I could arrive to work five minutes late. The next day, and the next I went to work later and later, I was slower with paperwork and i stopped to get coffee every thirty minutes. I started to realise a man who has arrived at the same time to work for the last fifteen years, who always finished work on time does not stand out much when he slowly changes his routine. My boss even told me to keep up the good work, apparently taking more time with paperwork allowed me to do paperwork with fewer mistakes.

A week later I get a text from my wife, told me to pick up some milk on the way home. So, it’s 9:45 P.M, I’m walking into the store, I head to the back of the store towards the milk and who should I see walking towards me but Jonny Laine. Usually I would have tried to avoid him but because of the late hour it is just me, him, and the cashier in the place. “Hey” I said unavoidably. He nodded his head at me like he was in a hurry to get away from me, as I saw him walk away I noticed the only items in his basket were duct tape, a rope, bleach and tarp. As he paid for his items the spotty teen behind the counter did not seem to care about what he was purchasing. As he walked out of the store, I quickly picked up my milk, paid for it and carefully made my way back to my car. As he starts driving away, I get in my car and keeping some space between us I slowly drive after him.

Jonny boy suddenly turns right, I follow him, turning right, my tire squeaking as I did. Suddenly we are both in a dark street with few buildings and fewer cars, no people other than me and him. I could barely breath as I watched him stop and step out of his car. I had to hit the breaks so quickly to stop from hitting into him, but it was too late, and I hit into the back of his car and of course, I black out. Next thing I knew I was waking up in a huge warehouse covered in hay, tied to a chair with another guy tied behind me sounding like he is bleeding to death. There was a giant black horse in the corner and Jonny and Frank fucking Laine staring down at me. Jonny rips the duct tape off my mouth and Frank, calm as a fucking cucumber says “Hey” He smiled then asked, “Why were you following my son here?”. Like an idiot I tell him the truth “I saw him at the store buying duct tape and a rope, it was almost ten P.M and I thought he might be in trouble” I told him. “You’re right he is in trouble” Frank claimed as he darted his glance back to his son. They get into a whole argument in front of me, apparently Frank told him to get the rope from the shed and Jonny couldn’t find it so he went to the store looking for some.

Their argument got louder and louder while I am sat there watching them, pleading for my life. “Please” I begged “I had 3 kids and a wife, I’m a lawyer, please I can help you” I continued. That last part seemed to make them think about something other than ripping each other’s heads off. “We should shoot him just for being a fucking lawyer!” Jonny yelled. It was weird to see Jonny start the yelling like that, I had pegged him as the quiet pacifist type. “We could use a lawyer” Frank replied to his son as calm as the whole time I had been here. That is when Jonny pulled out my wallet, my driving licence and just starts asking me about my job. He was not incredibly happy to learn that I was a civil rights attorney. “What the fuck are we supposed to do with that?!” was the last scream I heard; I could not tell which one of them said it. They had enough of my begging and hit me in the head with the end of the gun. Next thing I knew, I was waking up on the floor of the warehouse, I stand up, I had a glock19 in my hand and Frank Laine at my feet, with a bloody hole through his forehead, laying next to the man I was tied to the night before. The horse was gone, and I could not for the life of me put at of the pieces together of what had happened, and I had no idea what the fuck I was going to do next.