Weekend Bully Pt. 01

Authors note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Weekend Bully

Introduction:

Everyone has a hero, especially when they are younger. Someone they admire and wish they could emulate for their strength, skills, talent or sometimes just for their simple courage in the face of adversity. Likewise, most people have someone in their life that is so important to them, that they will do anything to protect that person.

For Cadey, her father met both of those criteria.

Mark Andrews, Cadey's father, was no-one special, except to his eighteen-year-old daughter. Middling height, middling intelligence. As run of the mill an individual as you could find. Quiet, unassuming, polite, kind. The sort of description people gave for a person who hasn't really made an impact on their life.

If you asked Mark about regrets in his life, you could expect him to give a small shake of his head while answering 'none'. Even the fact that his marriage had failed wasn't an issue in his mind as he'd managed to get a daughter from it, the sun in his drab world. Mark's ex-wife was called Linda although Mark would only ruefully refer to her as 'the Ex' on the few occasions that she'd come up in conversation. Cadey on the other hand most often called her mother 'a thundering cunt'.

Linda was a woman who had high hopes and expectations in life, none of which were likely to be provided by her unassuming husband. Disappointed that she wasn't ever going to see a Beverly Hills type lifestyle in her future, she took her disappointment out on Mark pretty much every day of their marriage. Verbally most of the time, sometimes with just a snide, belittling comment, other times in a torrent of curses, wailing and tears. Occasionally, when she'd imbibed too much Chardonnay, Linda would add some slaps and kicks to underline her disappointment with her lot in life.

Mark took it all. It wasn't that he was made of stone, immune to the cutting edge of her shrew-like-tongue. He took it because leaving Linda would mean leaving Cadey and that wasn't something he was prepared to contemplate. Finally, peace came to their little corner of the world when Linda started an affair with a used car salesman from East Texas. In a whirlwind romance that couldn't move fast enough for Mark and Cadey, Linda moved out, becoming soon after the ex-Mrs. Andrews.

That had been four years before and life had become simpler and better for the father and daughter after that. They lived in a home that Mark had inherited from his parents, a nice shore property about an hour's drive from the city. The town they lived in was small enough, a mere three thousand inhabitants during the week that swelled to over six thousand on the weekends. The reason being that many of the wealthier people living in the city would retreat to the shore on the weekends, relaxing in their second homes.

Cadey used to love the influx of people on the weekends when she was a child, the weekend crowd bringing new kids to the beach, games to be played, fleeting friendships to be made. As she grew older, she began to resent the 'invasion' as she saw it, the quiet of main street falling away as rude, entitled weekenders crowded the restaurants and cafés, littering the sidewalks with never a thought towards civic pride.

Not that her father had to endure the weekend crowds. He worked in an office job Monday to Friday, his unassuming nature keeping him from securing promotions so that as the cost-of-living increased year on year, he found it harder to make ends meet while trying to save towards Cadey attending college. To supplement his income, Mark took a job as a night security guard, patrolling the very office building he worked in during the week. It was taxing on him, sleep during the day becoming a necessity, not a luxury.

In their quiet little town, that shouldn't have been a problem and it wasn't, until Jermaine moved in next door.

Chapter One:

Mark groaned audibly as he clambered out of the car. His back ached even though his commute was a mere twenty minutes from his home. 'Getting old' he said to himself although he was just past forty. It wasn't age, it was just tiredness that was getting to him. He pushed a fist into the small of his back, seeking a moment of relief from stiff tired muscles before locking the car and walking towards the house.

Going through the front door, the stillness inside telling him Cadey wasn't at home. Most likely she'd gone out to pick up some groceries, ready to make Mark something to eat for his night shift that night. She was good that way, always thinking of him. She got that from him. He thanked God on a daily basis that the only things she'd inherited from his ex was her good looks and her strength of will. True, Cadey had a sliver of his ex's temper as well but together with his own good nature the young woman wasn't the harpy that her mother was.

Mark pulled open the patio doors at the rear of the house, stepping outside to enjoy the view of the ocean for a minute, the majesty of it never failing to bring him a little peace. That peace lasted all of ten seconds when he spotted his neighbor, Jermaine standing at the low picket fence that separated their properties. The black man was pissing, right over the fence and onto a small rose bush in Mark's garden. He groaned to himself, spotting that Jermaine was well aware of his presence meaning that Mark couldn't just say nothing.

He walked over slowly, not wanting to arrive before the other man was finished. Watching him piss on his property was bad enough without adding a close-up view of the man's large cock being shaken clear of the last drops of urine. Jermaine had been a nightmare neighbor ever since he'd bought the place next door a year before. Thankfully he was one of the 'weekenders' so his disruptive presence was only for a few days each week. A low shudder passed through Mark at the thought of Jermaine living there 365 days a year.

It had started over music. Jermaine playing hip hop, rap, jazz... whatever took his fancy from the moment he woke in the morning until well past midnight each night. Loud enough that every lyric was clearly audible in Marks home.

Working night shift, he'd needed to sleep during the day. Mark had politely gone around, introduced himself and explained his predicament. At first it seemed Jermaine was totally reasonable about it all, nodding along to Mark's story before bidding him a cheerful 'good day'. As Mark had walked away, the music behind him had swelled in volume. He'd suffered through it for two full weekends before making a complaint to the police.

Mark wasn't sure what pull Jermaine had, but since the majority of 'weekenders' tended to be wealthy, he could only assume the black man had money on his side. Nothing came of Marks complaint that time, or the following one. It was only when Jermaine had played 'Police Dog Blues' by Blind Blake over and over one Saturday morning that Mark realized that not only had his complaints failed, Jermaine was well aware of them.

After that, Mark had opted to deal with the situation the way he had dealt with his Ex. Suffer in silence. So, he ignored the car parked badly, blocking his own driveway, the litter that found its way into his property, the dog mess from the Rottweiler Jermaine owned, always on his side of the fence. He even grew deaf to the snide comments and hooting laughs whenever the black man would catch sight of him. Ear plugs and black out blinds meant he slept and working and sleeping as much as he did kept the 'bullying' to a minimum.

"How's your day going neighbor?" Jermaine's scornful greeting wasn't lost on Mark.

"Good, good. Thanks for asking. Listen, did you really need to piss outside like that?" Mark gestured to the rose bush, leaves dripping urine.

"Shit Mark, you know how it is. You get to our age and when you gotta go, you gotta go," Jermaine replied. Mark knew that Jermaine was in his fifties, at least ten years older than himself. Through some deal with the devil, the black man looked the same age as Mark did. Fitter besides. A lot fitter. It had to be the devil's work in Mark's opinion because every time he saw Jermaine, the tall bearded black man had a cigar chomped between his lips and a glass of scotch in his hand. Clean living wasn't his secret to youth and vitality.

"I'm only forty," Mark replied automatically correcting Jermaine, wishing he hadn't even as he said it.

"Sheee-iit... really? Fuck, too bad neighbor," Jermaine answered with an almost pitying look on his face.

"Anyway, uh maybe next time if you get caught short, you could urinate on your own side of the fence?"

"Sure yeah, good thinking, good talk. See you round little man." Jermaine raised the glass in his hand in a mocking salute, puffed out a small cloud of smoke from his cigar before walking away whistling.

Mark checked his watch. He had three hours and change before his night shift started. Blocking Jermaine from his mind, he went in search of his bed and a couple of hours sleep.

Waking up to the beep of his phones alarm, Mark stumbled into the ensuite shower to freshen up, throwing on the grey shirt and pants that was his weekend uniform before heading down to the kitchen.

Cadey was skipping around the kitchen, dancing to whatever music she had playing through her ear pods. She was completely oblivious to her father's presence, caught up in the music and the task of making him some sandwiches for his shift in work. He leaned against the door jamb, a smile on his face as he took in her youthful energy and beauty. She had her whole life ahead of her and no matter what it took, he was determined to give her the best start into her adult life that her could manage. He might have sucked as a husband, been a mediocre employee and not much shakes at standing up to the likes of Jermaine, but as a father he only had to look at Cadey to know he hadn't fucked that role up.

Where her mother had been tall and buxom, Cadey was only five foot and slim. Her 32B cup was nothing like Linda's impressive chest, but they both shared the same sweet face. In Linda's case that particular feature had been a mask for the demon beneath, but for Cadey it was bang on the money. She'd cut her hair short that summer, something to do with some influencer she was following. Mark didn't ask questions, his daughter was happy and the textured pixie cut suited her, black haired like her mom, brown eyed like himself.

"What the fuck Dad?" Cadey finally spotted him standing there, starting with surprise.

"Sorry love, just waiting for you to stop dancing was all. I didn't fancy getting stabbed with the butter knife if I came to close," Mark said grinning, stepping in to deliver a kiss on her forehead.

"Good one Dad, seriously, you should write these down, pure gold those jokes, pure gold."

He winked at her scooping up the sandwich she'd prepared. There was already a thermos of coffee sitting beside the food on the kitchen counter and he picked this up as well.

"Seriously, what would I do without you?"

"Well, if you don't raise my allowance soon, you'll end up finding out," Cadey said grinning.

"You're right," Mark answered.

"Wait... what? Seriously? Extra allowance?"

"No, my jokes... you're right. Comedy gold." Mark caught the apple his daughter threw at him in mock anger, slipping it into his pants pocket.

"Okay, I'm off. Remember, lock the place up. Text if you're nervous and I'm only twenty minutes away."

"Yes Dad, right Dad, have a good night, Dad."

Cadey walked Mark to the front door, waving as he backed the car out of the driveway and away to work.

Chapter Two:

Cadey spent an hour making and then eating her own dinner, throwing her dad's office clothes into the laundry and basically getting all the little chores done so she could relax. She threw the lock on the front door, heading to the back of the house to make sure the patio door was locked as well. The sun was setting in the west so as she looked out to the Atlantic Ocean in front of her, it was already dark. She loved the summer months here, the longer stretch in the evenings, the warmth. After nine pm and she was still walking around in a crop top and low-rise denim shorts. As she went to put the lock on the doors, she saw the big ugly dog their neighbor kept leading over the low fence and into their back garden. The dog snuffled at the grass for a minute before copping a squat, preparing to take a shit.

"Bastard," Cadey hissed. She threw open the door, walking into the garden, yelling loudly and waving her hands to put the dog off.

It worked. He stopped taking a shit, instead turning and growling at her.

"Oh... shit," she cursed softly, not having thought this through.

"Lex! Enough!" Cadey heard a voice yell, the tension in the dog's frame easing, the low growl however not stopping.

Jermaine appeared on his side of the fence, the usual smug superior grin on his face that Cadey was used to seeing.

"You ought to know better than to shout at a dog like that," he remarked, drawing on his ever present cigar.

"And you ought to know better to let your animal trespass on someone else's property," Cadey snapped back. The dog began growling louder but her temper was up now and Cadey wasn't going to give either the dog or its owner the pleasure of seeing her back off.

"Lex and me, we don't take well to being disrespected like that," Jermaine said darkly. As if heeding an unspoken command, the dog tensed once more, growling, spittle flecking his jaws.

Cadey pulled her phone out of her back pocket, flipping on the camera as she held it up, capturing both Lex and Jermaine in the lens.

"Threatening a teenager with a dangerous animal, how's that gonna play with the cops?" Cadey said with a confident smirk that hid her nervousness at the situation. The black man chewed on the end of his cigar for a moment before snapping his fingers. His rottweiler obeyed instantly, leaping back over the fence to rejoin his master.

"I don't do threats. I make promises," Jermaine said, his voice flat.

"Wow, where'd you get that line? Some TV show from the 70's?" Cadey bit back.

"You know what? I get you aint got a momma around to teach you to be a lady. I just figured your Daddy was bitch enough to fill the role is all," Jermaine said, enjoying the flush of rage that colored Cadey's face.

"You really are a prick!" she spat, turning on her heel and heading back to the house.

"You got no idea," he called after her.

She was still fuming an hour later. Cadey couldn't concentrate on TV, music, nothing. She just kept replaying the scene in her head, over and over. Wishing she'd had something else to say. She hated the way Jermaine had spoken about her dad. The man was a bully. Rich, arrogant, looking down on her dad because he preferred to get to go along, in order to get along. That wasn't how assholes like Jermaine did things, he just saw weakness when it was goodness, taking pleasure in humiliating her dad for no other reason than because he was able to get away with it.

It was dark now and she went to the kitchen to grab a glass of juice from the fridge, standing by the patio doors as she drank it. As usual, the music was still blasting out from Jermaine's, the man himself standing in his garden smoking. He turned and must have seen her outlined with the kitchen lights behind her. She saw him give her a little wave, a smug grin on his face as he did.

"Prick," she swore, her temper flaring again. Cadey went to the sink to rinse out the glass and her eyes fell on the small knife she'd used to make her dad's sandwiches. A thought popped into her head and before reason and sense could take hold and dissuade her, she was dashing out the front of the house, knife in hand.

She moved quickly, as stealthily as she could in beach sandals. While Jermaine was still out the back of his property, she dashed quickly into his driveway. His big SUV was parked up, all black and shining chrome. Quickly, she pressed the knife against the driver's door, pushing down as she scored a line through the paint work and into the body of the car itself. Vandalism done; she sped back home.

It had been stupid, reckless and petty. Revenge always is. Still, she fell asleep that night with as wide a grin on her face as Jermaine had worn when he'd waved at her.

Saturday morning dawned and it bore all the promise of another bright and beautiful day. Mark had returned home and was fast asleep in his bed by the time Cadey managed to drag herself her own. She threw an oversized t-shirt on to clothe her nudity before shambling into the kitchen to make herself a coffee. She glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was already getting on for 10am. Typical teenager, she considered that an early start to the day.

Cadey took her first sip of coffee, rubbed at some sleep still clinging to the corner of one eye and yawned. The doorbell rang at that moment and spurred life into her, the teen moving quickly to answer the door, worried whoever was calling would wake her Dad.

She pulled open the door to reveal Jermaine standing at the doorstep, his dog leashed and sitting at his feet. For once he didn't have a cigar or drink on him, instead he was holding his cell phone.

"I want to speak to your father," he said bluntly.

"Well, you can't, he's asleep," Cadey replied. She wanted to close the door on him without further conversation but she knew he'd just start knocking or something and that would definitely disturb her dad's sleep.

"Fine, then I'll deal with you first then him. I'd prefer an adult was present but... if you won't wake him, what can I do?"

"Well to start with, I am an adult, I'm eighteen, not that it's any of your business. And anything you need to say you can say to me. Not that we're particularly interested in any of your bullshit that is."

"Eighteen?" Jermaine seemed surprised to hear that, his stern expression shifting into a contemplative one briefly before returning to one of stern disapproval.

"Well, if you're eighteen then that makes it even easier." He pulled out his phone, the screen showing a video of his driveway. Clearly visible, Cadey could be seen taking a knife to his SUV. She hadn't even noticed he had security cameras in place and she'd walked by his place a thousand times since he'd moved in.

"I... uhh, I..." Casey stammered, caught off guard by this evidence.

"Obviously you can't pay for the damage so that shits gonna have to fall on that dad of yours. Let him know I'll be sending him a bill on this week and I hope those jobs of his pay well because this shit won't be cheap." As Jermaine spoke, his voice rose in volume, the man clearly angry. Cadey stepped out of the house, closing the door behind her to make sure her father couldn't hear.

"Look, I uh... I fucked up. This is on me. Leave my dad out of it. I'll pay for the repair. Okay?"

"With what? You think I'm gonna wait twelve months while you make some cash washing cars or working in the burger place by the shore? I aim to get what's owed to me. That's how life works."

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry I did what I did. Look, can this wait till later? Ummm, can I call over after my dad's gone to work. You can tell me how much it'll cost to get the damage repaired. I've a bit saved up so you won't have to wait, I promise."

"When's he working?" Jermaine didn't sound convinced that Cadey could make good on her work but at least he wasn't shouting any more.

"Seven, he starts at Seven tonight."