YOUREAFILTHYFUCKINGWHOREJUSTLIKEYOURFUCKINGMOTHER
He saw her on the pole at the kitty kat klub. It was ran by a guy named Santiago, the girls weren't that cute, but the liquor was cheap, and the sluts were always willing to go a little farther for a little bit more money. But this one, this one with all that hair, swaying her hips with the stain of misguided youth still fresh on her skin moved a little different. Yeah, Brenda was different, alright. It was all that hair, full and flowing, tempting the sun itself to shine a little brighter with it's flawless golden tint. Her body was the stuff of trashy magazines and wasted semen on the sheets of teenage boys. She was the most gorgeous broad the Klub had ever seen. Hell, Vegas itself had ever seen. And he wanted her.
They called it gunning, you know, when you got so fucking drunk you couldn't see straight and hightailed it to the little white chapel and got hitched for less than 50 bucks. Then the morning after, you'd call your guy and say " Dude, I gunned this stripper ". And a month after that you got the damn thing annulled if you were lucky, you threw the bitch out and you never saw her again. Needless to say, Ace gunned Brenda. Except he wasn't drunk, and it never got annulled, and Brenda was pregnant. He'd came home, she was on the couch smoking like a chimmney, and shaking so bad she dropped the remote when she tried to turn down the Jerry Springer show to talk to him.
Pregnant? He spoke the word like a curse. Spat it out of his mouth like an insult. She was scared and he was pissed. She was 17, a fucking kid herself, and about to have one of her own. Ace felt sorry for her mostly, and after all, this bitch gave him better blow jobs than women twice her age. She could cook, she was smart, and he loved her so much it scared him. She was the only piece of ass he actually didn't mind being around after the sex was over. Hell, he craved her company and attention. And after the initial shock and anger wore off, Ace Walker never even asked her to get rid of it. He just said okay, and the next day, they gunned it.
Ace was a wild man, his three main vices were alcolhol, gambling, and stippers. He had a big cock, and drove a fast car. the kind of man you mother warned you about. He lied, stole, connived, abused, and discriminated. He had a foul mouth, and a nasty coke habit in the early days that nearly cost him his life. By the time Brenda found her self tangled his sheets, the juncture of her thighs wet with his seed, her head pounding from how hard he pulled her hair when the fucked, Ace was at the height of his game. He was Mr. Las Fucking Vegas. Cheap deseart trickster that had his hands sticky with dirty money up to his elbows. Of all the things Ace, or Mr. Walker as he liked to call himself on jobs, was brilliant. The kind of brilliance blessed upon one not due to education, but an inbred wisdom of the dealings of human beings and how they operated. He could exploit any situation for his own personal gain. This intelligence did nothing but make this man very dangerous.
He started small time, petty theft, grand theft auto, minor assult charges. Then moved up with the big boys. He orchestrated heists that cut deep holes into the pockets of Vegas' most successful ventures. Him and his crew had their greedy knuckles sank deep within pools of money from Casinos back when it didn't require any high tech machinery to knock over a bank. He had some of the best theives working underneath him, and the cops were too scared of his Mob connections to touch him, or his team. They would hit Porche dealerships in the middle of thenight, and clean out half the lot before the sun was rolling over for it's morning coffee. They knocked over so many banks in that area they became famous for it. But Vegas was young, and the guys that shook hands with Sinatra were still running the city, and everyone was enjoying a piece of that big fucking pie.
He'd left Brenda shortly after the kid was born. She was a cute kid, sure, and he loved the fuck out of that broad, but he didn't have time for a family. His career was at an all time high, and to make himself feel better about the situation, he blamed his departure on it being too dangerous. And for the first four years of her life, the only thing she ever knew of a father was the balled up hundred dollar bills, sometimes 20 of them at a time pushed under the front door. He kept food in their mouths, and a roof over their heads. Brenda still stripped, and brought home a string of losers that were like Ace in one way, or another, but never him. They beat her and fucked her, took her money and called her daughter a snotty nosed brat when she had to leave them to hold her crying baby. When Alice turned four, her mother began to develop a nasty coke habit. One that caused her to lose her job, and too much weight. The house was a dump, the bills barely got paid, and finally one night, when the rain came down heavy on the desert earth, she left four year old Alice on the front steps ofher father's house and was never heard from again.