: Big Empty : OPEN

[Enver Marshall II]

Enver sat at Hokey Hollywood listening to his manager's suggestion about the next big thing they were going to do production wise. He didn’t really care what they did as long as money came rolling in and Hokey had been pretty good to him in that regard-so Enver basically gave the woman free reign to do what she wanted with his girls. They’re girls. Her girls. Her girls. If they made money and lots of it, his manager of Hokey had the benefit and permission to refer to them as her girls. Enver wouldn’t argue. He cared about money more these nights than the random flash of tits or *** on a stage.

“Sounds good. Run it for a month. If the production runs great-better than expected-extend it for two more months.” Enver said, his voice cracked and dried from reverting back to his smoking habit. Not the occasional cigar, but the cigarettes again. He was stressed and trying not to crack under that stress and going back to his booze and drugs routine. He had been pretty sober for a while-until Keara was killed by those scum bags the crow dicks. That guy needed to die and everyone with him too. Enver generally preferred peace over violence, but when his wife came back-things were definitely not the same as they had been before.

It was all the Crow’s fault in his eyes. Or they were as good as anyone to blame at first. It couldn’t be Enver. He loved his life with Keara and their family. DId he not tell her that enough? Or was it really Ven’s fault? He would ask Dea, but she vanished too. The male put out the cigarette in the crystal ashtray in the middle of the table that had been more closer to his middle than the woman across from him-middle.

“Enver, is everything..okay?” Enver blinked and then nodded his head. “Yeah. Fine. Why?” The woman looked at him as she bit down on her lower lip, sitting on the fence with what it was she wanted to say. “You just are a little more opinionated, usually.” She shrugged and stood. “Forget it. Go home. I’ll take care of things here. Don’t worry. I’ve never let you down before, have I?” She smiled warmly at him as he shook his head lazily from side to side.

“I’ll leave it all in your capable hands then.” Enver scooped up his fedora off the table and plucked it back on his head as he stood. “Two weeks in, I want to hear how sales are doing on tickets and booze. Make sure no more girls go missing.” That was the biggest problem in places like these. Girls that took their clothes off in a tactful way made **** wages. They got bigger pay working at strip joints between hourly wages and what customers were tossing their way. Might be time for raises so no more women went anywhere.

He didn’t go home. Not yet. Instead, Enver stayed at the bar, eyes glazing over as he started picking out his type of poison for the night. Something that would kill the emptiness he felt when he thought about home, his wife, the puppies and Jaime. What does he tell Jaime? Jaime had been asking what was wrong with mom for the better part of a week now. The puppies even seemed different now. “Give me that. A shot of that.” Enver pointed to a tall clear glass bottle with an amber liquid in it. “Sir?” The girl with heart pasties over her nipple asked him, knowing who he was. “You’re right. Best make it two shots.”

The redhead grabbed the bottle, holding it tightly, knowing the Macallan was expensive as hell. “You know it’s over a thousand dollars a shot-right sir?” She asked him, arms shaking in fear that she might drop it and be out of a job. “I do.” Enver whipped out his credit card. “I think when someone makes as much as I do every week two thousand bucks is chump change.” Enver scowled, watching the woman pour him two decent sized shots. “Don’t fill the shot glass to the rim for the next guy, sweetheart.” Enver pulled out another cigarette and stuffed it in his mouth, glaring at the honey looking liquor in the shot glass.

Before she could reply, Enver grabbed both shots and told her to keep the card at the register. The male wasn’t planning on staying. Not at all, but he entrusted his card would be there tomorrow or whenever he came. Otherwise someone was in deep **** when he came back and it was gone. Enver tossed one of the shots back, enjoying the earthy taste the liquid had, then tossed it into a tall potted plant near the front door as he left with the second drink and got in his silver painted two door sports car.

Did he care? No. Driving with booze in his possession was slightly exhilarating and made Enver feel alive. Or something. Anything better than what he had been feeling twenty minutes ago, if that. Enver dropped the car into drive and put his right foot down on the pedal both forcefully and hard, the tires squealing as he drove off from Hokey to the city limits. As Enver approached Harper ROck’s city limits, Enver guzzled the last drink down, rolled down the window and then tossed it to the wild. “Screw those fae fucks too.” Enver muttered, his mood sour. He had to go home because of Jaime. Crash was as irresponsible as he was an idiot-Unless...What if Enver got Jaime a nanny? Some cute, perky thing to get his wife’s attention? He grinned devilishly knowing how she felt about women in their home that might flirt with Enver. It was worth a shot, wasn’t it? Something the guy would keep in his back pocket when the time was right and presented itself.

Lost in his thoughts, Enver didn’t notice the mountain lion that was waddling its way across the streets and slammed into it full force, the front of the car buckling and being smashed to high hell before the silver Spyder spun, tires squealing against the pavement as it tried to regain control. It failed to and soon he was in the grass, the car vibrating as it roamed over ice, twigs and other things he didn’t even know were in the woods. When the car came to a stop, Enver groaned and removed his face from the steering wheel, a large gash across the brow above his left eye. “******* lions.” Enver slammed his hands against the dashboard twice before inching his way out of the car with a lazy chuckle.

He laid there for a couple minutes next to the car in the damp, muddy earth, collecting his wits before Enver flipped his car off and the dead body-or what was left of the dead mountain lion in the street. He rolled, got on both hands and knees and looked up to the night sky laughing. “Was last years model. Time to upgrade anyways.” Truth was, sober Enver loved that car, but drunk Enver was on a fast track to a road of self-destruction. Only he didn't see it. Drunks...or alcoholics never see it as that. Even if it was staring them hard in the face. “I need more booze.” Enver groaned, searching for his pack of cigarettes in both his suit coat pockets, as he staggered off to the city, walking more or less like something anyone would find in the QZ.