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(continued)

Anacortes, WA

December 3rd, 2018

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Todd said, standing in front of Linus as he saw Clinton approach. The other man was nearly as tall as he was, but he certainly walked like he was a foot taller, his chest puffed out and his jaw lifted just a bit as though he was trying to act tough. Todd could easily imagine that this was how he acted around Linus back at Maple’s apartment, but he wasn’t going to stand for it here. Judging by the way he was walking Clinton wasn’t in the mood to take any lip either.

That was too bad.

“What’d you say? This isn’t any of your business man so get on back to your ho-hos and ding-dongs. Everyone knows you love a good ding-dong. This retard,” he pointed at Linus, “knows why he’s in trouble. His big sister told him to stay put and he decided to go for a little walk when I was in the can.”

“You mean when you passed out from drinking,” Todd said. Normally he tried to make peace with Clinton despite not liking him a single bit, but not today. Usually he would keep his mouth shut and just let things be since Clinton had never dared to hurt Linus or Maple. A single call to the police would mean a third strike on his record, and he’d be going away for a very long time. It was hard to believe that Maple kept allowing him back into her life after the first two convictions, especially since she’d sworn him off after he’d gone away for his last two-year stint in the Monroe Correctional Complex. Of course he wasn’t too surprised, Clinton had a way of being just charming enough to get what he wanted, especially early release from prison and the women that regretted ever knowing him eventually.

“I’m sorry? Did you say something? I don’t speak bitch. Come on Linus, get your sorry ass back to the apartment.”

Linus actually started to move, but Todd stood in front of him still, motioning for him to stay.

“How about he goes back and you find somewhere else to be right now?” Todd asked. His eyes were more in a telling mood, but he knew that Mr. Alpha-male Clinton wasn’t about to let it go at that.

“How about you mind your own business you mat-thumper and let me deal with him?” He sounded a bit perturbed at the moment, not really pissed, but Todd was about to change that. He didn’t want Linus going back to the apartment with this guy, especially not after getting a whiff of whatever Clinton had been drinking. It was a bit of a surprise why it had taken so long in the colder weather to smell, but now that he did, Todd could also see that the other man’s eyes were bloodshot and he was listing to one side just a bit.

If he’d been driving then Todd’s answer would have been a resounding “hell no” to letting Linus go with him. But even just walking, and knowing that Linus’ home was just a couple of blocks down the street, he wasn’t ready to trust that Clinton wouldn’t do something stupid and then find a way to blame it on Linus.

“He’s going home Clinton,” Todd said, his voice deadly serious, “just not with you.”

Clinton sighed, slumping his shoulders as though irritated, and Todd already knew what was coming before Clinton went low, aiming to grab his legs and take him down. He knew just what to do and he did it, spreading his legs out wide, which was kind of a risk with all the ice around, and widening his base to make it harder to pick him up. Even as Clinton tried to pick him up Todd was dropping a heavy elbow onto the back of the other man’s head, neck, and shoulders, getting in three solid strikes as Clinton suddenly crumpled, landing in a heat at his feet.

Yep, he was drunk.

(to be continued)

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