WHORE

“Let me tell you something baby
You love me for everything you hate me for
I can be your whore”

    Jak Stoker returned to the stove to continue his vigil over the contents of the lone skillet that sizzled filling the spacious kitchen with the smell of a sweet breakfast. The kitchen was a lot more than he needed, definitely a lot more than he used, but he told the architect what he wanted and to spare no expense he took the order to heart, leaving Jak with a restaurant style kitchen, complete with a stove that had too many burners, two industrial sized ovens, and a salamander among other things that he found highly unnecessary. Whether it was because he was the architect’s first high profile customer and he wanted to impress him because he finally had a chance to go all out with his design and went with it; Jak didn’t know and didn’t much care like most everything else in the world.
    He placed the stack of mail on the island covered with the mess of breakfast’s preparations before grabbing his spatula and flipping the French toast in the skillet causing a new eruptions of sizzling. It would have went faster if he would have used the café style grill, but that was another thing he simply didn’t touch. With his attention back on the mail, he sift through the junk finding the only thing of importance was a letter from his friend in a state prison he had gotten to know during his incarceration when he was younger and the latest issue of Rise! Magazine, which he was interviewed for some weeks ago.
    They had sent one of their most ambitious and prolific reporters Brianna “Girlie” Cooper, known for a near fatal overdose at the Metal Will Rise! Awards, Rise!’s award show five years ago, when she was only sixteen and better known as the last person to see Alestar Brooks, the late singer of Black No. 1, one of Jak’s first friends in the business, alive before he committed suicide by overdosing on drugs. Everybody, believed Alestar had demons that he confessed to her the day he took his own life, the day after his birthday, but it was something she refused to talk about even to her husband who was a big Black No. 1 fan himself. It was widely known as a rule of thumb not to even mention him around her. Nobody knew exactly why, but nobody also wanted to find out why either.
    Having been in the music business for five years, Jak had met her several times before, their first meeting she was shy, distant and cold, as if something in her life had taken all of her trust out of her, leaving her like an abused dog that stayed in the back of its cage with watching eyes after it was rescued, something Jak related to. But, over the years she became the woman that showed to give the interview in a black blouse, black slacks, heels, with shades on and her hair up in a ponytail radiating arrogance.
    Jak whipped off the leather gloves he had several dozen pairs of before opening the magazine and turning straight to his interview.
    “I don’t give a fuck what they think of it”, ex-con Jak Stroker says of his band’s “Excuse of the Promises” third album, Not so different, you and I, “Never have, never will”.
    Nearly six years ago, Excuse hit the scene with their breakthrough album, “ As the Hurt Turns to Hate” a misanthropic collection of songs of abused, mindless violence, abandonment and heartbreak fueled by Stoker, Excuses instrumental and lyrical mastermind’s, experiences during his three years behind bars. The industrial metal album’s success partly due to Stroker’s many obscene, vulgar, and offensive uses of his right of freedom of speech. Being hailed as the Marilyn Manson of his generation Stroker has become the role model for what parents tell their children not be has been crucified by the media and has singled himself out amongst most celebrities for telling them about themselves as he sees it. With all the negative feedback for his misanthropic attitude that he infused into his band’s first album. Stoker churned out Excuses’ second album, the more melodic death metal based, “The Monster you Made” which was released shortly before the infamous incident where the physically imposing Stoker knocked-out Children of Bodom front man Alexi Laiho, twice, at a concert having been reported to have said “Bitch your fucking lucky we aren’t in the pen because if we were I’d drag your ass in a cell and let my homeboy cocoa have his way with your bitch ass.” Now gearing up for the release of Excuses third album, Stoker invited us to his fun-house of a home for an interview. “You bitches want it, come get it. I’ve finally got a fucking break and I’m not leaving home.”
    Rise!: “ You’ve never made and attempt to hide what’s on your mind. So what’s the concept behind “Not so different”?
    Jak Stoker: Isn’t it fucking obvious? In a way it’s a sister album to Monster which was about the reason. I’m the way I am. I was thrown in prison and during that time, I’ve seen the injustice done by society, whether it was for religious personal gain, out of hatred. I’m this way because y’all made me this way. I hate y’all because of y’all and I let it be known, not so different is basically me calling out all the bitches that have said anything about me, obviously saying we’re not different. They talk trash and run their mouth about me like I do about them, they hate me and whoever else like I hate them I’m simply calling them out on their hypocrisy. We’re all human and the only thing we’re all capable of is hate. I just let mine show instead of keeping it all inside like everyone else.
    Rise!: There was a difference in music style between Excuses’ first two albums, can we expect something different on this one?
    JS: Yea, I don’t like being penned down to one sound, like everybody seems to think a band should. When Excuse releases a new album I want the listener to think “what the fuck did Jak come up with this time” instead of expecting the same old shit that gets boring after a few CD’s. There’s still all the hate and anger that everyone expects; it is an Excuse album. It’s whatever genre of metal I’m into at the moment or whatever I feel the album needs to portray what I’m saying. There was some people  that were turn doff by the differences between Turns to hate and Monster, as there will be when Not so different comes out but fuck’em, I didn’t make this album to please them.”
    R: “Then for who or why did you make it?”
    JS: “For my love of making music, the whores that it’s about, and my record label because we have a contract.”
    R: “There’s been rumors flying around that there’s been turmoil in the band. Is there any truth behind them?”
    JS: “Yes and no. Ever since I was released from prison there’s been tension between them and myself. I wasn’t the same guy they were used to and I will admit, I was an ass teaching them the music I had wrote during my time locked up which was something they weren’t used to because we all used to share in the creative process, and we weren’t getting anywhere with that I might add. But the main thing is that they don’t appreciate my attitude and my loose jaw, but all we do is squabble about it, nothing serious. Every band goes through rough patches! You might not hear about them, but they happen. Look at the fact it’s a group of people working together to make a product, but each of those people have their own agenda and personality clash every now and then. For A band it’s just a fact of life.”
    R: “Speaking of your infamous loose jaw, it seems to me that it’s been tightened for this interview, why’s that.”
    JS: “Meadow”
    R: “Seriously?”
    JS: “Love makes you do things. You can see whatever I say or do reflects on her since we’re together. She catches a lot of hell because of me and, being the loving boyfriend that I am I want to make things easier for her. If it means keeping my trap shut’ I’m gonna keep it shut. She’s a sweetheart, she doesn’t deserve the flak that should be targeted at me when I’m the one everybody hates and she hasn’t done a damned thing.”
    R: “So I take it comments like the one in the recent article posted on TheDirt.com about you where they quoted, “Anybody that would date this guy is a whore with no standards, no matter how she carries herself in front of everyone will get under your skin.”

    JS: “I can’t describe how much that article pissed me off and she brings out the best in me and she fell in love with the person she came to know. How does that make her a whore? But, what really gets me is that apparently some people see her as a whore and not other people! I’m not going to mention any names, but there’s one singer/songwriter that’s averaged like 5 boyfriends a years since her first album came out and she’s America’s sweetheart! How the fuck does that work? She can be with every Tom, Dick, and Harry and every Tome with a hairy dick, and considered one of the most innocent people in the world, where Meadow’s been with the same guy for over a year and a half and gets called a whore. I don’t know about you, but the other chick fits the description of whore to me, not Meadow. Whoever wrote that article is the prime example of “foot in mouth and head up ass-hole. At least when I say something it makes sense and there’s credibility behind it. It’s not just my personal opinion.”
    R:”And its things like that that fuel your dislike for mankind.”
JS: “Among other things, yes.”
R: “I’m guessing you already wrote a song on the subject.”
JS: “About the article? Several. About my hatred of mankind? I never stop writing them. I have several albums worth of unreleased songs hidden away. I’d lose my mind if I stopped recording just because I’m not working on another album for the label. I had then put a recording studio upstairs on the top floor and it’s where I spend most of my time when Meadow isn’t here. She’s came home more than once to find me passed the fuck out on the couch I keep up there empty. Yoo-hoo cans littered around the floor.”
    R: “Yoo-hoos?”
    JS: “Guilty Pleasure.”
    R: “Anyways, it sounds like you should have more than a few albums worth of songs the way you talk about being in your studio. More like several dozen by the sound of it.”
    JS: “When the creative juices aren’t flowing I record cover songs. What’s better than recording your own version of your favorite songs? But overall, it’s just something I do to kill time, you know. I get bored as shit without Meadow here so I just go upstairs lay down a few tracks, put’em on a CD, and lock’em away with the rest.”
    R: “Any chance of releasing some of the unreleased tracks or a cover album?
    JS. “There’s a possibility you’ll see the unreleased tracks on a future Excuses album, redone to fit the album, or an LP or something. As for a cover album, shit if I know.”
    Jak closed the magazine and placed it back on the island on top the mail, not bothering to finish the article, already knowing how the rest of it went, and the interview was shitty, he felt, but then again, despite his reputation when it came to his personal life he didn’t like to say much. Besides what business was it of theirs? All they needed to know was the next album would be out soon and that was it, as far as he was concerned. But the label demanded publicity and publicity they got.
    After whipping off his gloves again, as if handling the magazine had made them dirty, Jak retrieved a plate from a top cabinet and placed the French toast on it, turning off the heat under the skillet, before turning to the island and loading the rest of the plate with the breakfast item that had already finished cooking. He placed the plate on a legged-serving tray, along with some of the sterling silver, silverware he had bought on a whim, the copy of Rise!, the letter from his friend and the cup of coffee mixed with a packet of hot cocoa, he’d been nursing while he cooked. Lastly, he grabbed a glass out of a cabinet and went around the island and went to the refrigerator and filled it with milk before placing it to rest next to his mug on the tray.
    With the tray loaded he lifted it from the island and made his way out the kitchen. Out in the hallway, to his left were two guest rooms that shared a bathroom that his family frequently stayed in. Whenever he decide to start a family, he was going to convert one of the rooms to a nursery and do the same to the other if they had another, leaving his family to sleep on the various couches he had spread around the house. Across from the rooms was the staircase that led down to the basement that he made into his man cave. At the end of the hallway was his gallery that branched out to the right into its own hallway that reached a dead end. All along, the gallery hallway were glass cases that held the rare and valuable items that Jak had acquired over the years and held them for display. Amongst the items were guitars signed by various bands and guitar players, rare comic books, a shrunken-head from South America a Chinese vase from an ancient dynasty and a katana from feudal Japan.
    He turned right down the hall passing the rarely used dining room that stood above the stairs leading down to the basement and below the grand staircase to the second floor. A lien closet, that held extra sheets, blankets, and towels, ended the hallway with a nice sized bathroom for guest use next to the grand staircase on the other side of the wall of the dining room. Across from the grand staircase was a hall leading to the double door entrance to the house that Jak saw as completely senseless as one of the doors always stayed locked in place and, for some reason, some idiot decided that they both needed mail slots. One side of the hall was completely solid having the kitchen on the other side, but the other wall held the opening to the living room where he entertained his guest and where he was interview for Rise!
    Jak slowly made his way upstairs to the second floor planting each foot firmly before taking another step to make sure he didn’t spill any of the trays contents or the whole tray itself.  At the top step he was met with a wall holding up painted portraits of his family members: the floor running to the left and the right only to meet another wall and run the direction of the front of the house. The second floor he had been clearly specific about with the architect. He wanted the floor to turn in a square surrounded on all sides by walls incidentally creating a room in the dead center. The one thing he pressed was the only visible place to go was up the stairs at the other end of the square hall that lead to the attic that held his studio or back down the grand stair case below the center room to the first floor. He didn’t press the issue to hard because it was things like this that lead him to the hire that particular architect in the first place.
    He turned left down the hall and turned left again measuring out his steps before turning to face the portrait of his aunt. The woman who had basically raised him his whole life, and firmly tapping a spot above the floor with his foot. In response, the section of the wall holding his aunts portrait silently swung inward  just crack slightly turning he pushed the section of wall with his side enough to slip through and used his foot to push it closed behind him with a barely audible click.
    Inside the room, pressed against the outer wall centered between two windows was a large canopy bed shrouded on all sides by thick black black-out curtains that matched the ones hung over the windows blocking out the morning light.  Across the bed mounted on the wall, next to the hidden entrance was a large ninety inch television. To the left side of the room was a couch, with its back to the bed, sitting in front of the coffee table, strewn with unread magazine which is where the new issue of rise would be kept until he got a chance to read it then would be brought down to the coffee table down stairs in the living room for his guest reading pleasure. Making an “L” shape in the corner of the room in front of and beside the couch and coffee table was a set of book shelves holding the new books to be read. The one currently being read laying amongst the unread magazines on the coffee table. Sitting next to the book shelf across from the couch was a mini cooler with a glass door, containing various sodas and yoohoos leaving space against the wall between it and the wall holding the television and the hidden door. On the right side of the room pressed against the wall opposite the book shelves on the other side of the room was a large vanity mirror that hold Meadow’s make-up, jewelry, and other beauty implements.
    Jak set the tray on one of the bedside tables and tied the black-out curtains to the front and back post sleeping near the edge of the bed was a blonde with the covers thrown off her towards the center of the bead wearing Jak’s favorite coat, that had a collar and went half-way down his thighs, and a pair of gray boy shorts.
    Roughly three and a half years ago, when Jak was living in an apartment, while his house was almost done being designed and about to start being built, he contracted the flu from a family member and stayed near-bedridden for a week while he fought the virus. His entertainment options, when he wasn’t asleep, were limited to what was on television since his videogames and DVD player where connected to the TV in the living room, not being the type to watch reruns of shows he’d watch recently limited his options one night while channel flipping to find something to ease his boredom he came across the season premiere of a reality singing contest. He wasn’t into reality television since his life was enough reality for him, but since music was his life the singing aspect drew him in. It was nowhere near the greatest show, but he enjoyed watching the contestants auditioning for the judges and seeing how many of them were down right horrible to the point it was funny. He set it to record planning to stop when the auditions ended and only the people that could seem were left.
    Then the following week, when Jak was fully recovered and had a chance to catch up on his recording. She walked on screen to audition for the judges. Meadow Malone, wearing a blouse of shining dull neon colors and tight black shorts that ended below her knees; her brown roots showing in her blonde hair. She spoke with the judges with confidences displaying her spunky personality and her country accent. Then she easily belted out a country song Jak never heard of earning her a trip to the second round and as she was walking out Jak couldn’t help but notice the large ass the tail of her blouse rested on. He thought he could probably set a soda can.
    Jak immediately hit rewind and watched her audition again, then again. She’d had him from the moment she had walked in the room. Over his career, he’d met and been with a lot of girls, but none of them had struck him like she did. He couldn’t deny that she was his type; she had the body type, facial structure, the style, and for some reason he wasn’t sure of, he had a soft spot for country girls, but what it was, was her good heart and spunky personality that didn’t seem to have a stitch of malice, her powerhouse of a voice that was hands down the best so far on the show and that ass! To him she seemed perfect just from the first impression.
    After he managed to get past her audition and on the rest of the show. Jak logged onto a social media website he barely used that he managed to get hundreds of thousands of followers on. He put up a post raving about her talent and beauty as he would every week following to his fans, some of which bashed him for not being “metal” for watching the show and liking Meadow in general. Like always he ignored what they said not caring like it seemed the rest of his other fans did. When it came time for the live shows where the fans voted determined the fate of the contestants Meadow was still in the running and Jak rallied his fans promising a reward if she won.
    Several weeks later when the show only had a few episodes before the finale, Meadow was sent home, having the fewest votes in fourth place. She hugged the three remaining contestants, wishing them lick and singing a farewell song for the audience as Jak stared in disbelief at his television. He couldn’t grasp why they hadn’t sent her through. She was the forerunner throughout the whole contest: how did she end up in fourth! By the time he laid down for sleep that night he’d left the internet an ear full, ranting that either the show was fixed or America didn’t know shit when it came to music, adding fuel to his growing reputation of offensiveness.
    The following morning, when he had calmed down, yet was still disgusted, he went online to see what everyone was saying in reply to his rant, hoping some of his hater had said something that would make him laugh. He didn’t make it far into the post when he found one from Meadow herself, not in reply to his rant, but to him personally. “Mr. Stoker, I wanted to thank you (and your fans) for the support you showed for me during my time on the show. If there’s anything I can do to return the favor, within reason, just let me know. P.S. I just read over some of your post and you really know how to make a girl blush!”
    After reading the post, several times, for no other reason than he sometimes get stuck repeating thins over and over again until he could break the cycle, Jak wondered why he never thought about sending her a message before. For all her had said about her over the past few months about her beauty and talent he kind of felt like an idiot not telling her herself.  Now since everything he’d said was posted for the public to view he realized how much of a stalker he must have appeared to be. Normally, this wouldn’t have bothered him, already having the reputation he’d made for himself, but the thought of her possible seeing him as a stalker made a knot in his stomach. Je cursed himself for his stupidity and hated himself for it; stupidity was something he didn’t tolerate, especially his own.
    The only thing that helped him get through the anger he had for himself was the post script and the fact she had sent him the message at all. Generally, the only message anyone sent to their stalker usually involved a threat of the police not a comment on how they made them blush. Besides Jake know from the show that made Meadow was too much of a softie to talk negatively to anyone and wouldn’t have sent said anything  to him if he made her feel uneasy. That’s how he read her, at least, besides she offered to return the favor for the support, an open door to make contact with her, something you didn’t give to a person you saw as a stalker.
    With his chance glowing on the screen in front of him, he clicked on the “reply” link, “If you truly want to return the favor, let me take you out to dinner. I believe I’ve earned that.”
    It was several hours later, since he woke up really early every morning, before he heard back from Meadow. “I’m flattered, but you’ve gotten a little to head strong for me and I’ve never been into guys with a lot of tattoos. Plus, you’re not a Christian and I couldn’t be with anyone that didn’t love the Lord. I’m sorry! I hope you understand.”
    Jak smiled as he had already foreseen this message coming “Oh, so you’ll take the atheist’s help that he gave you out of the kindness of his heart and the only thing he ask in return is too much! I see: you’re just like everyone else. Thank you, now go away. I can already hear the song the song that is forming in my head. I’ll call it ‘Left to die in the Meadow’. Besides did you ever stop to think I wasn’t looking for a date and just wanted a chance to meet you? Last time I’m ever helping anyone out!” was the reply he sent playing on the fact she was to nice a person that didn’t like hurting people which probably left her easily guilt ridden.
    A little bit later, hook, line and sinker, “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to upset you after all you did for me. It’s just ever sense the first episode I was on I have so many guys I’ve never met ask me out and I thought you were doing the same. It never crossed my mind that you might’ve just wanted to meet me. Please forgive me for being so judgmental. I’m usually not like that, at least I try not to be if you find my apology sincere and you’re not upset with me anymore, I wouldn’t mind having dinner with you.
    Knowing first impressions were everything, Jak wanted to break the image the media painted of him being Lucifer incarnate. If there was any chance of him not letting this opportunity slip through his fingers, he had to make her realize there was more to him than met the eye and wipe the slate clean. The picture of him preset in her mind. Having been well educated and a master of most strategy games he had confidence he could do it but deep down he was nervous which only meant he would try harder increasing his chances of success.
    A week later he flew both of them to New York meeting up at the airport, he wore a gray suit vest, button down the front, over a white short sleeved button down shirt and a pair of jeans, something he saw as laid back, but formal. With his brown hair freshly cut and faded he was sure his attire would catch her off guard and start making her second guess what she thought about him.
    Once Meadow’s plane landed, Jak’s heart skipped a beat as she walked towards him since he had doubts she’d actually show. They took a cab to Jak’s favorite restaurant where every item of the menu was made of chocolate, Cocolato. Jak swearing to himself that he was going to resist the sudden school boy urge to sneak a peek up meadows denim skirt on the ride to there. At the restaurant the waitress greeted Jak by name and showed them to a table where there was a little privacy, before the owner came out to personally greet his favorite customer and ordered candles at the table when he seen Jak had brought Meadow with him. The warm welcome was how he was  usually greeted and what he counted on to show Meadow he was a likeable person, but the candles weren’t part of the plan and made it seem too much like a date which he told Meadow it wouldn’t be. He must have made a face when the candles were ordered because he heard Meadow giggle on the other side of the table.
    Dinner continued on without a hitch. They shared an appetizer of powdered sugar covered French toast sticks with a chocolate dipping syrup. For the main course, Jak had a chocolate burrito, chunks of brownie covered in chocolate syrup and shaved coconut wrapped in a chocolate chip pancake coated with peanut butter on one side and Meadow had the chocolate soup, a thin milk-based chocolate sauce filled with pieces of fruit of her choosing and they both had S’mores milkshakes for desert. The entire time they ate conversation never stopped. Jak layered on his charm talking to meadow as if she was an old friend, as he avoided taking about the misanthropic side of his career and focused on telling her about his personal life and his family. As it grew late the more at ease Meadow grew until Jak could tell she was comfortable around him giggling, laughing, and opening up more to him.
    By the time they made it back to the airport to catch their return flights home, Jak had more than enough confidence in how dinner went that he asked Meadow if she would mind having dinner with him again. Her face fell flat at the question, causing Jak to unintentionally hold his breath as she pondered an answer. After what seemed like an eternity she answered with a smile, which lead to another dinner, then another and so on until she was in his arms, using her cellphone to post a picture of the them kissing online for her fans to make thing official and was moving into his house once it was finally built, much to Jak’s delight.
    Jak leaned over the sleeping girl and lightly shook her by the shoulder, “Meds, baby, it’s time to get up”. He said as he leaned down and kissed her on her cheek. “Breakfast is waiting.” Meadow turned her head and peered up at him through squinted eyes. She reached behind her for the covers, intending to block the world out with it. Jak grabbed her hand, “Oh no you don’t, you’ve slept long enough, come on I made French toast.”
    “French toast?” Meadow groaned letting the blanket fall from her hand knowing it was pointless to resist. “Why do you do this to me? I just got off tour, can’t I sleep in.” She asked as she pushed herself up with one arm then pushed herself back till her back was pressed against the shelves built into the headrest.
    “You can, but I wouldn’t recommended it.” Jak answered as he picked up the tray off the bedside table and placing it over Meadow’s lap.
    “Or allow it” Meadow mumbled to herself sleepily just barely in earshot of Jak causing him to smile for the first time that morning.
    Jak stepped up on the bed, barefooted and stepped around till he was by Meadow and slowly eased himself down next to her as she began to eat her breakfast, zealously having missed Jak’s cooking while she had been away. After moving his coffee from the tray to the headrest shelf behind him, Jak slipped an arm around Meadow’s waist and grabbed the issue of Rise! From the tray and began reading it from the front. Meadow silently ate her breakfast, feeling the gloved hand that softly grasped her right thigh, wishing that they could’ve had breakfast together for once, knowing it would never happen since Jak’s internal clock woke him up at 5 o’clock ready to eat, and a habit he picked up in prison and he couldn’t break.
    Meadow finished her breakfast, setting her fork down on her empty plate and rested her head on Jak’s shoulder causing him to pull her closer, dragging the serving tray along with her. She stared down at the images in fadedish that completely covered his arms all the way to his shoulders, hating them. All of them were dark and marked reflecting Jak’s mind set of when he got them. The two she hated the most were hidden beneath his gloves. Around his right wrist was “As the Hurt Turns to Hate”, which became the title of his first album that painted a picture of why Jak was the way he was, the way Meadow always knew him, and around his left wrist was “I’ll rise to fall again” a prediction that no matter what happened in his life, something would always go wrong.
    “I love you Jak” Meadow said pulling her eyes away from his arm and nuzzling her head against him.
    “I love you too, baby” Jak said turning to kiss her forehead and squeezed her lightly with his arm. “What’s your plans for today? I promised my sister I’d help her with something or other then I gotta go meet the guys and discuss the upcoming tour.  So, I’m going to be gone a bit.”
    Meadow turned her head to face Jak who was consumed with his reading and hesitated, “I was uh… thinking about going to get my belly button pierced.”
    Jak lowered his magazine and turned and looked at her, his face hard and starred her in the eyes giving her the answer she know was coming, “Absolutely not.”
    “Why not?” Meadow whimpered shooting him her best pleading puppy-dog face, “I think it would be cute.”
    “Cute?” Jak exclaimed showing his outrage. “It’s fuckin’ trashy that’s what it is. Only sluts and hookers get their belly-button pierced and I won’t have you parading around looking like one.”
    “A lot of my fans have their belly-buttons pierced” Meadow informed him as if it would help, “and their sweet girls like me.”
    “Yea, but their also trailer park trash that wake up, put a dip in their mouth, have a beer before they go to their shift at the Gentlemen’s Cabaret to support their two kids.” Jake ranted. 
“I know you like to think you’re a redneck to relate to your fans, but you’re not. You grew up in a two story house. Your brother isn’t your cousin. And your dad never beat your mom because she drank the last beer.
    “Jak, you’re stereotyping, most of them are still in grade school” Meadow said taking her head off Jak’s shoulder and fully turned to face him. “Besides, it’s my body, I can do what I want with it.”
    Jak sighed and spoke in a soft voice, “Baby, your parents provided you with a great life and a proper upbringing, don’t disrespect all they did for you by getting that done. Besides what about me, obviously, I don’t want you to get it done.  Doesn’t what I think matter? You’re perfect the way you are, Meds, and you don’t need to go trying to change yourself.”
    “Okay” Meadow said saddened even though she know he would have went with it. “I won’t.”
    “That’s my girl” Jak said kissing her check. As soon as he was pulling his lips from her skin, his cellphone range from inside his pocket playing the ringtone that indicated his sister was calling. He pulled it out and pressed it to his ear. “Hey sis…okay, just let me finish getting dressed and I’ll be on my way…okay…okay bye.” He slid the phone back into his pocket, stood up on the bed, and handed Meadow his magazine. “My interview’s in there, love.”
    Meadow flipped through the magazine till she found the article and began reading while Jak walked off the bed to a corner of the room on the opposite side of the TV than the one her entered the room, near the front of the house, faced the wall and kicked the spot near the floor causing a section of the wall to swing open just like when he had entered his bedroom. Inside the long narrow room was clothes hung on both walls, men’s on the outer side, women’s’ near the inner wall that faced the interior of the house with a section of the bare wall directly in the middle in front of stairs leading to where the first floor would be. Above the racks of clothes were shelves holding rarely worn shoes and boots, various types of hats, and other various items of clothing, and below were several dressers on both sides.
    Jak was slipping a plain white T-shirt off a clothes hanger and over his head when he heard Meadow cry from the bedroom. “You called her a whore!”
    “Sure did” Jak said pulling the shirt down over his torso.
    “Jak you promised you’d tone down for me!” Meadow said. 
    “I was only telling them what an actual whore was.” Jake replied walking to one of the dressers, opening the second drawer and grabbed a thin black open style vest. “Besides I didn’t say her name.” He walked to another dresser threw the leather gloves he had been wearing in the top drawer and pulled out another pair of a similar style and put them and the vest on.
    “You didn’t have to because you made it quite obvious who you were talking about.”
    Jak didn’t say anything. He opened another drawer, grabbed a pair of socks, found a pair of steel-toed boots and grabbed a fedora hat off the shelf above his clothes, before returning to the bedroom, shutting the closet door behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed saying nothing and put on his socks and boots. Afterwards he put his hat on and checked himself in the Meadow’s vanity mirror before he walked over to Meadow’s side of the bed. Moving the breakfast tray to the bedside table, he sat next to Meadow.”
    “I’m trying Meds.” Jay finally said cupping Meadow’s cheek with his hand. “It’s just I can’t help it when they piss me off, so please cut me some slack. I’m trying.”
    “Okay, just try not to let your anger get the better of you next time please.” She asked cupping Jak’s hand with hers and rubbing her face on the smooth leather.
    “I’ll try love” he promised as he leaned and kissed her long and tenderly. He broke the kiss and reached behind her for his wallet, pulled out one of his credit cards, and handed it to her. “Now what I want you to do is go to the spa and get a facial or massage or go and get your hair and mails done or whatever. Just go and have fun and relax, okay.”
    “Okay” she agreed with a smile.
    “And after dinner tonight, do you think you could give me a trim” he asked buttoning his jacket over Meadow’s bare breast.
    “You are getting a bit shaggy” Meadow said noticing the tip of his hair sticking out from under his hat. 
    “Good” Jak stated and kissed her again. “I’ll see you later, love.”
    Jak got up and started for the door, but Meadow called back for him and he turned around to see her holding out the letter from his friend in prison, off the breakfast tray. He walked back, took the letter, tore it open and began to read.
    
Boo Boo Kitty Fuck
      What’s going on little bitch…..