Slow burn by autumn jones lake6/28/2023 ![]() ![]() A lot of them were bitchy drama queens, and the older I got, the less patience I had for emotional scenes. The strippers that danced in my club seemed younger every day. None of the tramps my father brought home after her death had an ounce of compassion for a motherless brat. I don’t have many memories of her, but the ones I do have are warm and pleasant. Hadn’t known one since my mother died shortly after my eighth birthday. I fucked any willing girl who hung out in my club, and made my living in less than honest ways. She was married to a decent, hard-working, honest guy. I used violence as a tool to keep order in my often chaotic world, just as she used the law to keep things orderly in her black-and-white one. Violence and I had been close personal friends for a large part of my life. ![]()
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