College Vamp

Buying Time (Part 2) (EDITED)

Monday, 7:45 am

The study was quiet. Absent of all invasive noise.

Joseph vigorously scrubbed at his dress shoe with a white cloth. He sat at his desk with a bottle of polish in reach. He cleaned around the silver metal toe - cleaning off the brown stains and being careful to not tear the cleaning rag. His therapeutic ritual came to a halt when he heard the clatter of dishes outside the room.

He glared at the door. Another clatter made his brow furrow. He dropped the rag and shoe on the desk, standing up. He marched out the door - a fresh pair of dress shoes on his feet. He adjusted his collar as he turned into the lobby, heading for the kitchen where he heard sizzling and scraping. The smell of pork drifted into his nose. He stepped in and saw Shelly at the stove, stirring caltabos surrounded by an assortment of vegetables. She stopped, looking over her shoulder.

"Hello dear." Her voice was barely a murmur.

"Almost done?"

"A few more minutes," She tilted the pan to him. "Caltabo. You're favorite." Her voice quivered.

"Good."

Shelly shrunk, turning back to stir the food. The doorbell rang and caught Joseph's attention. Without another word, he headed for the front room - his shoes clamping against the hardwood floor. He went up to the door and peered out the fish eye peephole. He clenched his fist, scowling at the sight on his front porch.

There stood Damon dressed in his usual, weathered garb. Caked in dried mud. He had one hand by his side - the other behind his back. Dreading what awaited him, Joseph flung the door open.

"What are you doing here? I thought I made myself very cle-"

Damon put up his free hand. "Before you get shitty with me. I'm not here for Shelly, ok?"

That did little to assuage Joseph's glare. "Then why are you here?"

"I'm here to talk to you,"

"What could you possibly need to talk to me about?"

"Something I'm certain you want to hear," growled Damon, clenching his fist.

"Out with it then."

Damon uncurled his fingers, taking a deep breath. He held up his index finger. "There's only one thing I like about you, Joseph. One thing."

"And what would that be?"

"You're what we used to call 'a polisher'. The kind of guy who keeps his hands clean. You don't get involved in anything dirty. Even if you do, you'll just clean it right off. No calluses. Nothing. The kind of guy who wouldn't leave a stain of any kind."

"What of it?" Joseph huffed, jabbing a finger at Damon's chest. "If this some vain attempt to reconcile for the past few years, you're sorely mistaken."

"That is not what this is about." Damon snapped back. "I'm here about this."

Joseph opened his mouth to end the matter but Damon moved his arm from behind his back. It brought forward a dress shoe - covered in dried mud. Joseph went rigid. He could only stare at the foot apparel -mentally trying to will it away from existence.

"Something else got dirty this time, didn't it?"

Before Joseph could react, Damon pulled back and launched his fist forward. It connected across his brother-in-law's jaw with a loud thwack. Joseph smacked against the doorframe - his senses knocked for a loop. His jaw burned as the left hinge felt like it would pop out.

Damon dropped the shoe and snagged Joseph's dress shirt by the collar, yanking him out the door. With a smooth throw, he hurled him off the porch and onto the front lawn. Joseph hit it hard, kicking up grass and staining his shirt with green. Before he knew it, Damon was upon him, pinning him down.