With the Black Friday shopping traffic, the thirty minute drive to South Charlotte took close to an hour. By the time he pulled up to the ivy-laced brick colonial, his brain was pounding against his skull.
Damien dragged himself to the front door and leaned against the house as he waited for someone to put him out of his misery.
“Well, well, well. Look what the cat done brought in,” Wendell said. “Boy, you look like you been rode hard and put up wet.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry to bother you, but is Michelle here?” He barely got the words out before she appeared at the door. “Hey, darlin’.”
“You look like shit,” she said without a hint of sympathy. “What are you doing here?”
“Surprise,” he said through a grimace. His attempt at humor was more painful than funny.
“Come in, son. And don’t throw up on my floor. I just had them restained.”
Apparently, he wasn’t gonna get any love from this family.
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