Devil's Due

Alysha and I became even closer friends than we were, before. Ms. Murphy never talked about her husband, but Alysha told me that her Dad died when she was young, too. Drunk driver ran him off the road and died, too.

"Are you still hanging around these parts?" I asked, making conversation after the heavy talk was over.

"Nah, I got a scholarship to Cal Tech, out in California," she answered. "I'm going for my Masters in Engineering. Are you still going for Computer Science, down at Florida?"

"Yeah, I'm getting my Bachelor's when I graduate," I confirmed, with a sad smile. "There are a couple MLB teams scouting me, too. I just wish Grams and Gramps were still alive, not to mention Mom and Dad. I just want to make 'em proud, ya know?"

"I know, hon," she sniffed, giving me a hug. "I wish Dad was still alive, too. They're all up in Heaven now, looking down and being wicked proud of us, though."

"You're right," I grinned, in spite of myself. "I know they are, too."

"So, Mom tells me you got a woman. Is she good to you?" Alysha asked, taking me aback for a second.

"Yeah, Sophie is amazing," I replied, a smile of happiness coming to my face. "She's wicked awesome. I'm thinking of asking her to marry me."

First thing I saw on Alysha's face was surprise, followed by a look I couldn't quite place. "That's good, hon. I'm glad you found someone. You deserve some happiness."

"Hey, what about you? Anyone special in your life?" I asked, smiling.

"Not at the moment," she said after a long pause. "My last boyfriend turned out to be a wicked asshole. So no, and I'm not really looking, right now."

"Sorry to hear that, sweetie," I replied, hoping she found someone good, and soon. "You deserve to be happy, too."

"Thanks, Rick," she gave me a radiant smile, hugging me and kissing my cheek. "I have to go, but here's my number, if you ever need anything. And I do mean anything, ok?"

"Hey, same here," I told her, earnestly. I gave her my number too, and we programmed them into our respective cellphones. "You need me, I'm there."

She hugged me again, and I hugged her back. We said our goodbyes, and went our separate ways. Thinking back, I'm pretty sure that Alysha is the only friend I know from my childhood, who didn't go to prison. Go fuckin' figure, right?

The lawyer read the Will, and I collected my grandparents' estate. Only Ms. Murphy was there with me, since Alysha took an early flight to Los Angeles. We said our goodbyes, when she dropped me off at the airport for the flight back to Florida.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Nope. I didn't become wicked rich. I did inherit a tidy sum, though, even after funeral expenses. I also inherited Grams' engagement ring, as well as a bunch of other family heirlooms. I made arrangements, and had everything shipped to me, down in Gainesville. I rented a long-term storage unit there, and put everything into storage, while I finished my degree.

You might think I'd suffered enough, right? Not by a fuckin' long shot, kids.

No, I don't mean Sophie. I mean my burgeoning Baseball career, and how it all came to a fuckin' screeching halt. And by fuckin' screeching, I mean that literally. When I said it all happened in rapid succession, I wasn't kidding! First game back, BOOM!

We'd made it into the College World Series, and Game 1 was going well. I'd already hit a double and a homer with 2 RBI's, and we were up by 5 going into the Ninth Inning. Our pitcher threw a slider, and the batter hit a bouncer in my direction. They had runners at 1^st and 2^nd, so I moved as fast as I could. I had to run into the baseline to grab the bouncer, and turned just in time for the runner to slam into me hard. He pushed me down, and stomped on my left kneecap as he ran over me. That caused the aforementioned fuckin' screeching, from yours truly.

I'd held onto the fuckin' ball, at least. I then somehow threw it in the general direction of second, from flat on my back. Got a double fuckin' play! I found that out later, though.

When the play finally ended, the Ump ejected the stupid fuck that ran me over, not to mention half of each bench as the dugouts cleared for an infield brawl.

When all the dust settled, my left leg was in a cast in traction, at the University Hospital, and my girlfriend sat beside my bed, holding my hand. Then the doctor came in, and told me the bad news. Oh yeah. The good news was, we won the fuckin' game. Now for the bad news.

My kneecap was shattered by the stupid fuck's cleats. Not to mention extensive tendon and ligament damage. I stared down six months of rehab, and that was after they put in a new kneecap for me. One of those new artificial knees, made from titanium and silicone. I'd be able to walk, and even run a bit, but I'd never be able to play college Baseball again. As for the Majors, yeah fuckin' right!

My Baseball career ended on that field in Gainesville.

I kinda slipped into depression at that point, and only Sophie kept me alive, so to speak. Yeah, I actually considered suicide, at one point. I never said anything, but I did consider it.

Sophie was there for me, every step of the way, though. She had finished her Nursing degree, and now had a job as an RN at the University Hospital. She pulled a couple strings to get assigned as my nurse, assisting the Physical Therapist with my recovery. Then she'd drive me home every night, and make sweet love to me. As much as I felt sorry for myself, right after it happened, she helped me through it all.

I'm just glad that the University didn't yank my scholarship after my injury. That would've sucked ass, but Coach put me at ease. He felt just as shitty as everyone else, over what happened.

Well, everyone except for the stupid fuck who stomped on my knee. He didn't seem to care, when we went to the NCAA hearing on the incident. Yeah, Coach Winston filed a complaint with the NCAA! But since Dwight Hollister was a rising star, destined for the MLB, the hearing was pretty fuckin' one-sided. Even though the video showed him purposely stomp on my knee, he claimed that he just lost his balance. He gave an insincere apology, and they let him off with a warning.

After the hearing, he came up to where I stood with Coach and my NCAA rep. Then he stuck out his hand. I shook it, out of reflex, but he wouldn't let go as he spoke. "Hey man. I'm sorry I stepped on you by accident. You know it was an accident, right? I don't want there to be no misunderstanding, you know?"

In answer, I squeezed hard. He'd tried squeezing my hand as he spoke, but my Dad had taught me to always extend my index and middle fingers along someone's wrist, just in case. He hadn't taken that precaution, though. So I squeezed back as I spoke back to him.

"Karma is a wicked bitch. Be careful now, Dwight." Then I let his hand go, and he stepped back. The stupid fuck looked like he wanted to take a swing at me. I think if Coach and our rep hadn't been there, he might've tried. I really wanted to shove my crutch up his stupid fuck ass, but he never gave me an excuse.

I'm just glad that I picked a good career field to fall back on, in case Baseball didn't work out... which it didn't, as you can see. So, once I graduated, I started making money as a freelance IT guy. Word spread pretty fast, and the students at the University became some of my best clients.

I also met Sophie's Mom, Diana, and she hated me from the get-go. No matter what I said, she glared at me like I was the Devil himself. I guess I was a Yankee Devil to her, after what her ex did. She got in little digs at me, every time she opened her mouth. You know how Southern Belles are, right? If not, they can give you a compliment, while insulting you at the same damn time. Fuck if I know how they do it, but they do it!

Finally, I'd had enough. "Look Ms. Sterling," I said tightly, addressing her by her maiden name. "I'm not your stupid fuck ex-husband. I ain't even from New Fuckin' York! I'm not going to cheat on your daughter! If you want me outta here, well that's just too fuckin' bad. I love Sophie, and I ain't going anywhere!"

Diana got a look of pure shock on her face, and so did Sophie. Nobody talked to her Mom that way! Well, nobody but an Irish hooligan from Southie.

"No one talks to me that way, young man!" Diana said, the look of shock still on her face.

"Nobody 'til now, you mean," I shot back. "I've been taking your veiled insults for the last four fuckin' hours, and I'm done taking 'em. I get it. You don't think I'm good enough for Sophie. All I want, is a chance to prove you wrong. If you won't give me that chance, that's still too fuckin' bad. We've been together since Freshman Year. I haven't cheated on her, and I won't ever cheat on her!"

"Fine," she said, after a long few moments. "You want a chance, you got one, Rick. You hurt my daughter in any way, and I swear to Almighty God, you will regret it!"

"Accepted, ma'am," I replied, holding out my hand to her. We shook once, nodded to each other, and that was that.

Diana started treating me a lot better, after that day. She stopped with the backhanded compliments and little digs. She was even cordial, now. Life started to look up, again!

Sophie and I lived together for six months, before I popped the question. I had enough money saved up, to give her a fairly nice, but small wedding.

I'd been working up to the proposal. I kept up the rehab on my knee, and could finally get down on one knee with only minimal pain. I surprised her when I pulled out the black felt ring box, and surprised her again by moving smoothly down to my right knee. I didn't even wince as I opened the box and smiled up at her.

"Sophie Randall, will you marry me?"

Her hand flew to her face, and I saw tears rolling down her cheeks. "Yes! Yes! Oh my God, yes!" she giggled as she jumped up and down for a minute. Then she let me slide the ring onto her left ring finger.

Yeah, I gave her Grams' engagement ring. It had given Grams and Gramps fifty-six good years together, before his heart attack and her passing, a week later. I hoped we could beat that record.

Diana took the news surprisingly well. Spending Sundays together with her and Sophie after Church, probably had a lot to do with it. It felt good that she'd finally started to like me, if not trust me.

Breaking the news to our... mostly her... friends was a mixed bag. Most of her girlfriends liked me, already. Most of her male friends were also fairly cool with it. However, Brad Douglas, Gerald Shoemaker, and Dwight Bagwell hated me, already. News of our engagement just made it worse.

See, Dwight was Sophie's ex-boyfriend from High School. She dumped him after a huge fight, when she wouldn't give it up to him on a regular basis. He thought that since he took her virginity, she owed him sex whenever he wanted it. She didn't see it that way. He never got over the breakup.

Dwight also had a rough life, or so he says. His mom died when he was a baby, leaving his asshat overbearing father to raise him. So, I guess he came by it honestly. It didn't hurt him that his daddy was also the Town Sheriff, either. He got a pass on some serious shit, from what Sophie told me.

What made things worse, was that I started getting harassed by the cops. Yeah, you guessed it. Dwight and his cronies were on the Force, in the small burg just south of Gainesville, where we all lived. So, shortly after news of our engagement got around town, the cops started following me. Yeah, no nepotism there, with Dwight's douchebag father employing his douchebag son, right?

As a nurse, Sophie worked long hours at the Hospital in Gainesville, while I worked odd hours some days, too. I'd kept up my freelance IT business, and got calls at all hours to help someone with this problem or that. I'd been able to buy a sweet ride for cash, shortly after graduation. A local used car dealer sold me a 1969 Chevy Camaro for a reasonable price. I paid five-thousand for it, out the door. I took it to a local mechanic, and he was impressed by how good of a condition it was in. It had a few little things wrong, but three-hundred bucks later, it was running like new.

It wasn't my first car, but it was sure as shit better than the old Honda Civic that Dad left me when he died. I'd sold that one for two hundred, before moving down to Florida for school.

Having that big muscle car was a blessing and a curse. As long as I wasn't in town, it was pure fun on the road! Whenever I was in town, I kept it right on the speed limit. I signaled every time I changed lanes or made a turn. Last, but not least, I made damn sure I didn't give Dwight or one of his flunkies an excuse to pull me over and ticket me.

I bet you've noticed that I've known three stupid fucks named Dwight, in my life. Well, every one of them is a Grade A #1 Douchebag. Let me be clear. I'm not saying that all guys named Dwight are dickheads. Just every single one of them that I've known.

Anyway, I thought up some nicknames for the Three Asshats. Brad became Deputy Dawg. Gerald became Gumshoe, and Dwight became D-Bag. You already know what the D stands for. If you don't, it rhymes with whoosh.

Now, there's also kind of a mascot for that little town. Big Roscoe is his name. Big Roscoe, in case you were wondering, is the biggest fuckin' alligator I've ever seen! Legend has it, he's been around since the town was founded, over a hundred years ago. I ain't gonna call anyone a liar on that. Hell, as big as that fucker is, I wouldn't doubt it! Luckily, he stayed in his part of the swamp to the north of us, hanging out mostly in a good sized pond where the road bends. If you take that curve too fast, you could go flying off the road, right into Big Roscoe's pond. They even have signs up!

I got a good look at him, driving up to Gainesville, one day. I slowed down for the curve, and glanced to my left. "Fuckin' Massive" comes close to describing his size, but not quite. He ain't as big as the gator in that one movie about the big gator in a lake, but he's still fuckin' huge! If I had to guess, Big Roscoe had to be at least forty feet long! His head was at least as long as my five feet, eleven inch height! Yeah, I make it a habit to avoid dinosaurs, as much as possible!

Avoiding cavemen like Deputy Dawg, Gumshoe, and D-Bag wasn't so easy, though.

They tried damn near everything to get me to fuck up. They'd ride my bumper. They'd hit their lights and siren, then go around me when I pulled over. They even went so far, as to follow me home. Then they'd follow me to work, if it was in town, the next day. I knew how to handle fuckin' pigs, though. Not all cops are pigs, but D-Bag and his crew sure smelled a lot like bacon!

A few of our friends liked to do some drinking after work, in the evenings. I stopped in once, but when I saw Dwight himself drive by, I told the guys that I'd have to take a rain check. Sure enough, as soon as I got on the road, D-Bag pulled me over on "suspicion of drunk driving." He got pissed when I blew clean on the breathalyzer. I just smirked at him, turned on my 302, and laid a little rubber. I stayed at the speed limit all the way home, though.

"I've about had enough of your stupid fuck ex-boyfriend and his trolls, baby," I said with a sigh, as we ate dinner that night. "D-Bag pulled me over when I left Lucky's, this afternoon. I hadn't even had a drink, but he pulled me over and gave me a damn breathalyzer!"

"I can't believe that ass!" Sophie said, getting angry, too. Then she took a deep breath. "I'll talk to him tomorrow, babe. If he doesn't leave you alone from now on, I'll report him to the Sheriff, myself! I don't care if he is his daddy, he'll have to do something!" She got up and got me a bottled Guinness from the 'fridge. I smiled and thanked her, when she handed it to me.

Yeah, yeah. I know. My Dad died of alcohol poisoning. I'm Irish, though. If we aren't drinkin', we're fightin' or fuckin'. Sometimes, all in the same night!

But seriously, I don't drink like my Dad did. I don't come anywhere near close to his level of devotion to the bottle. I have a beer a day, and I'm good to go.

"Don't worry about Dwight and his boys, baby," Sophie said with a smile, as I finished rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. She filled up the soap part, closed it, and started it washing.

"I'm not, but if they keep going how they're going, I won't even bother to report 'em. One thing I hate is fuckin' dirty cops!" I growled.

"I know it's tempting, but don't do anything that will land you in prison, baby," she warned me lovingly, stroking my cheek. "Now, come to bed, and let me make you a happy man!"

Who the fuck was I to argue with that?

Well, D-Bag and his Douche Squad finally relented, after Sophie gave them a swift figurative kick in the ass. The only thing I heard from D-Bag, before our wedding, was that a real man would fight his own battles. He wouldn't let his woman do the fighting for him.

It took every last ounce of willpower I had, not to take a baseball bat to his fuckin' head! But I swallowed my pride, and let the stupid fuck slide... that time.

We got married in Sophie's church. None of the Douche Squad were invited, thanks to Diana and Sophie. I did invite Ms. Murphy and Alysha, though. Amelia showed up, and I got to introduce her to Sophie. They became fast friends, especially when I told Sophie what Amelia and her daughter had done for me after Dad died, and again after Grams and Gramps died. Alysha couldn't make it, due to work out in Los Angeles. She sent her best wishes, though.

Breaking with tradition, since Sophie's father hadn't been seen or heard from in years, Diana walked her daughter down the aisle. I hadn't converted to Baptist yet, but I guess Catholic was close enough. I'm just glad that Southern Baptist weddings aren't as long and boring as Catholic weddings! Before I knew it, we'd exchanged vows and rings and said "I do!" Then after a quick reception, we were off to Key West for a fun-filled Honeymoon!

We spent that whole week making love, fucking, sucking, fucking some more, licking, making love, fucking some more, and finally making love and fucking again. Well, we took short breaks for food and sleep, not to mention liquid refreshment. When we were finally ready to head home, I'm not sure who was walking funnier. I was pretty sure I'd fucked Sophie bowlegged, but I think I'd pulled every one of my groin muscles in the process.

^^^^^

When we got back from our Honeymoon fuck-a-thon to end all fuck-a-thons, life settled into a good kind of normal. Sophie got on Days at the hospital, on her six-month rotation, so we had more time together. We went to work during the day, and spent the nights and weekends together, just like most married couples we knew.

We had a few spats, mostly over small shit. Nothing huge or life-threatening. No cops had to come out to our house, since we'd get ahold of our tempers, cool down, and talk through things like reasonable adults. It wasn't always easy, but I made the effort. So did Sophie. I have a hot Irish temper. Sophie had her hot redhead temper, too. She wasn't of Irish descent, but I thought I'd put as much Irish in her as possible! Makeup sex is the absolute best!

Were we in a rut? Not on your life! She either did something to keep our love life interesting, or I'd step up and do something different. She asked me once, if I would like to bring someone else into our bed. That would've turned into a huge fight, if she'd been serious. I'd made my stance on marriage very clear, before we got married. She laughed so hard at my expression, I couldn't stay mad at her. Then I proceeded to fuck her bowlegged again!