Tuesday, October 18, 2011
The Second Burning of Joey St. Claire
The First Burning of Joey St.Claire
Joey St.Claire sat quietly at the end of the bar upon a stool made from cheap wood and assembled by idiots with wood glue and barely enough education to read the instructions let alone follow them correctly. The stool had lived long past it’s point of usefulness; much like the man who sat on it. The bartender walked over to him and poured cheap whiskey into his shot glass. The girl could have been pretty, hell maybe even gorgeous given a little tasteful makeup and a decent wardrobe. As it was she appeared as cheap as the stool or the whiskey. She gave him a quick wink and a smile in his direction as she walked away, her tight pants accentuated the sway of her walk.
As the patrons thinned and the bar stools went legs up on dirty tables the bartender took Joey by the hand and led him to the back alley where her little car was parked. The car was from the mid-eighties and looked cheaply made, the recurring theme it would seem. Her apartment was only a block away and the drive there was quick, the walk upstairs was even faster and the sex only lasted barely longer then the entire commute from the bar to the bedroom. Not that it mattered much to either of them, it is what it is, a little roll in the hay between two lost and sad people. Joey left her bed as the sun begin to rise and she pretended to sleep as he dressed and left, unable to face him in person in the terribly revealing light of a new day.
Joey walked into his home near seven o’clock, his wife and daughter were at the table eating a breakfast of toaster waffles and microwave bacon. His wife looked as he walked by towards the stairs and hoped their daughter was too young to recognize the smell of cheap booze or cheap perfume transferred via skanks and sluts onto his clothes. His wife chased him up the stairs.
“Where the hell have you been asshole? How dare you walk in looking and smelling like that in front of my daughter.”
“You’re daughter? Oh, now she’s your daughter and not mine. I see how it is. You know I can’t tell you about my work, it wouldn’t be safe for the two of you.”
Joey opened the top drawer of his dresser where under neatly folded socks and underwear laid a rarely used gun and an even lesser used badge that read Joseph St.Claire under the proud shield of the N.Y.P.D. He took a shower and his cell went off, he picked it up and nodded. His only answers a “yes” or “no” and as he hung up he grabbed his best suit and began to dress.
“And your gone again? Just like that? Well don’t bother coming home Joey, this is the final straw.”
Her tears poured out as Joey left. She wiped her eyes and steeled herself, then she picked up the phone and dialed a number she never wanted to use again. Joey had broke her heart for the last time, she knew it was important for him to be undercover but he had long ago given in to the character of his own charade. The phone on the other end rung only twice before it picked up and she began to speak immediately.
“Tommy, this is Carol… don’t talk just let me do this and be done with it. You know I left because of what you did and now I’m in the same place again. I thought marrying a cop would remove me from that world but I guess I’m just attracted to that kind of man. You have a snitch in your ranks, and his name is Joey St.Claire. He’s a cop and I want you to make sure he never has the chance to hurt our daughter like you did.” Then she hung up the phone and cried over her husband for the last time.
The First Burning of Joey St.Claire
As the patrons thinned and the bar stools went legs up on dirty tables the bartender took Joey by the hand and led him to the back alley where her little car was parked. The car was from the mid-eighties and looked cheaply made, the recurring theme it would seem. Her apartment was only a block away and the drive there was quick, the walk upstairs was even faster and the sex only lasted barely longer then the entire commute from the bar to the bedroom. Not that it mattered much to either of them, it is what it is, a little roll in the hay between two lost and sad people. Joey left her bed as the sun begin to rise and she pretended to sleep as he dressed and left, unable to face him in person in the terribly revealing light of a new day.
Joey walked into his home near seven o’clock, his wife and daughter were at the table eating a breakfast of toaster waffles and microwave bacon. His wife looked as he walked by towards the stairs and hoped their daughter was too young to recognize the smell of cheap booze or cheap perfume transferred via skanks and sluts onto his clothes. His wife chased him up the stairs.
“Where the hell have you been asshole? How dare you walk in looking and smelling like that in front of my daughter.”
“You’re daughter? Oh, now she’s your daughter and not mine. I see how it is. You know I can’t tell you about my work, it wouldn’t be safe for the two of you.”
Joey opened the top drawer of his dresser where under neatly folded socks and underwear laid a rarely used gun and an even lesser used badge that read Joseph St.Claire under the proud shield of the N.Y.P.D. He took a shower and his cell went off, he picked it up and nodded. His only answers a “yes” or “no” and as he hung up he grabbed his best suit and began to dress.
“And your gone again? Just like that? Well don’t bother coming home Joey, this is the final straw.”
Her tears poured out as Joey left. She wiped her eyes and steeled herself, then she picked up the phone and dialed a number she never wanted to use again. Joey had broke her heart for the last time, she knew it was important for him to be undercover but he had long ago given in to the character of his own charade. The phone on the other end rung only twice before it picked up and she began to speak immediately.
“Tommy, this is Carol… don’t talk just let me do this and be done with it. You know I left because of what you did and now I’m in the same place again. I thought marrying a cop would remove me from that world but I guess I’m just attracted to that kind of man. You have a snitch in your ranks, and his name is Joey St.Claire. He’s a cop and I want you to make sure he never has the chance to hurt our daughter like you did.” Then she hung up the phone and cried over her husband for the last time.
The First Burning of Joey St.Claire
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