He has the audacity to laugh, to chuckle at my threat, as if he doesn’t know how dead serious I am.
I take another step towards him, the muscles in my hands quivering as I clench my fists together. “Do you remember what I said the last time we saw each other?” I remember his wimpy ass running away when I promised to castrate him with my bare hands if he ever had the audacity to contact me again.
Marcus looks above my head and behind me, towards Jim. I’m about to turn and apologize for him when Marcus’s voice cuts through the tense evening air, “I told you man. She might be hot, and occasionally fun. But it isn’t worth sticking around to put up with that attitude.”
My world freezes, a high-pitched ringing sounds in my ears as his words sink in. I pivot on my heel to face Marcus. “What did you just say?”
“I warned him that you’ve always been a bitch.”
I turn back towards Jim. His face is pale, expression unreadable. Marcus keeps talking, his words falling on deaf ears because I’m zeroed in on Jim. The longer I stare, the more I see guilt wash over his face.
“Megan.” He takes a step forward, arms coming up to grab me. “Sweetheart, listen, at first I—”
Marcus’s maniacal, psychotic laugh cuts through the chilly evening air. “Sweetheart? He’s calling you sweetheart? Pretty soon you’ll tell me he’s fucked you. I figured you’d miss me, but I didn’t realize you’d try to keep it in the fam.”
My head spins, trying to go from letting Jim explain to Marcus’ comments. “You’re related?” I look from Marcus to Jim, from psycho to sad.
“Unfortunately, yeah.” Jim ushers behind me with his head. “Marc—Marcus, is my cousin.”
I push away from Jim, moving to go inside the house when Marcus steps in my path.
“Seriously, Meg. I heard about your sister, that’s crazy.” He has the gall to reach a hand up to touch my chin, and I smack his arm away.
That’s crazy? My sister’s death is crazy? “I’m not kidding, Marcus. Don’t fucking touch me. You want to see crazy? I’ll show you how fucking crazy I can be.”
Jim wraps an arm around my bicep, moving me to the side as he steps in between me and Marcus. “You heard her, Marc, get the fuck out of here, and don’tevermention her sister again.”
Marcus looks Jim up and down, and now that they’re side by side I can see the resemblance. Similar light hair. Marcus’s is more light brown than blond, the same perfectly straight nose.Marcus has a little more height on him, but Jim easily has more muscle. Put them both in a black tuxedo and they could pass for brothers. I don’t know how I ever missed the resemblance.
Marcus scoffs, moving a step away as he pulls his car keys from his pocket. “She’s all yours, cuz.” His gaze then falls to me, and I can see his eyes criticizing, categorizing each imperfection like he always did. I instinctively suck in my stomach, and Marcus doesn’t miss the movement.
He runs his tongue over his teeth, sharpening them before he makes his kill. “You can have my sloppy seconds. I had my fun about two years and fifteen pounds ago. I have better things to do than to waste my time with a bitchy, fat, cun—”
The final T doesn’t make it out of his mouth.
Jim’s fist connects hard with the side of Marcus’ jaw, the crack audible over the quiet night. Then he’s on him, both of them grappling in the center of my driveway, fists swinging, and shirts being torn. Marcus rolls on top, pulling his fist back and springing it forward, but Jim’s too fast.
Within seconds he pushes Marcus off and pins him down before landing a terrifying blow to his face. “You will never speak to her like that again!” He lands another, and another, spitting a warning from his mouth with each movement of his fist. “Never. Have I made myself clear?”
“Knock it off!” I scramble around the two of them, getting a swift kick into Marcus’ ribs when I can because, well, he deserves it. But I don’t want the rest of this to play out in my driveway like the white trash fight it’s quickly becoming.
A few of my neighbors have stepped out of the house to see what’s going on. My nosy elderly neighbor Gayle stands on her front stoop, pink fuzzy robe tied tightly and a head full of curlers. Her husband starts across the lawn to help, and I raise a hand, begging him to stop.
“Goddamnit, stop it right now!” I grab Jim by the shoulders, yanking him off Marcus the best I can. He gives one final shove before finally standing back. He swipes at the cut on his bottom lip with the back of his hand, his tongue coming out to dart at the area.
Marcus sits up, slinging his forearms over his knees, head hanging down as he gargles, gathering a throat full of disgusting phlegm to spit out a blood soaked loogie by my feet.
Jim reaches down, a sheen of sweat shining off his forehead as he grips the already torn neckline of Marcus’s sweater and hauls him up by the fabric. He marches him the few steps over to his car and opens the door, shoving him into the driver's seat.
I watch, frozen from my spot, as they exchange a few choice words, the cusp of another fight breaking out before Marcus finally backs out of my driveway and disappears down the street.
Jim stands back, watching where he drove off, chest still heaving as he cocks his hands on his hips. He waves across the lawn to my neighbor, and she tugs her robe tighter, turning to go back inside.
Once the dust has settled, and the neighbors go about their way, he finally turns back towards me.
“Megan, I—”
“Go.”
