We drove along the country road drinking beers, shooting the shit, spitting and smoking more Marlboros.“I always say, Smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em and we got a whole carton here, son. Let’s smoke ‘em up!”“I’m with you, dad.”“Let’s go check on the herd in the lower forty.”I pointed the F-150 in the direction of that part of the ranch. We took a dirt back-road to the pasture. A cloud of dust followed in our wake. We pulled onto a small bridge over a culvert and parked. Dad pulled out his new Cope can and we both had a dip while surveying the emerald green pasture dotted with black angus cattle. We each pulled hard on the Rolling Rocks and Marlboros.As dad spit another long rope of Cope juice, he looked over at me and said,“Those beers are goin’ right through me.”As we stood there facing each other, he slowly pulled down the zipper of his Wranglers and produced the thick rod that I had once shot out of. I stared at his half-hard cock as he pulled the foreskin back and forth and aimed it at my. She wanted to hit something, anything, any one. She wanted to rage, to scream, to sob. Instead, she took a deep breath through her nostrils, and the spoke in a curt, measured tone. ‘I’m great. For the rest of my life, I’ll be great. If you’re ever curious again, remember that I already told you how I am. You’re not supposed to be calling me. Do it again, I WILL call the police. Don’t think for a second that because you got off this time it will happen again. Lose my number. Understand me? Good.’ She hung up the phone before he could respond, throwing it on the bed before letting out a loud growl and changing. Karl, FUCKING Karl. A fist rose and was then slammed into the wall. She grimaced as she felt the throbbing in her knuckles. He had spent two years letting her know how disposable she was and now he couldn’t seem to just let her be. Her anger was short lived as it gave way to tears. She sunk towards her bed, shoulders bouncing as she tried to cry in silence. Darren hearing her.
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