15
“What the hell, Jax!?” Taylor just about punched her husband as he walked through the door. “You can’t just ghost your wife! You have a kid.”
“I want a—um—divorce,” Jax choked a little on the word divorce.
“What?” she asked to be sure of what he had said.
“Divorce. Yeah, long-story-short, I’m bored. This isn’t fun or romantic anymore. It’s a chore. And as much as I’d love to put in effort to love you—well—that’s not love, now is it? It’s a game.”
“Who’s the whore in Wyoming?” She demanded.
“There is no whore, Taylor,” he spoke calmly so his son (wherever he was) wouldn’t hear him. “You’re just boring and money-crazy. I’m tired of hearing you talk about the price of our possessions. Do you even hear yourself? You sound like The Price is Right. ‘This new couch, you ask? Only two-fifty. My plate collection? A hundred each.’ Who are you showing off for? You don’t even pay for a fourth of the shit we own. I don’t care about who’s paying, and you clearly do.”
“That’s so stupid and immature. You don’t like how I talk?”
“I don’t like how you act,” he said coldly. “Oh, one more thing. I’ll pay child support, but not a cent more.”
Taylor had forced Jax to sign prenuptials before they married, clearly assuming she would be the big money maker. Funny how life turns out.
“You are such a child!” she screamed.
“Alright-alright. Get it all out!”
A guttural grunt issued from Taylor’s throat before she decided to screech her foolish last words.
“I’ll get the best lawyers money can buy!”
“Okay, Taylor.” He dismissed and walked up the stairs to pack his stuff.
Divorce rates are around 50% in America. It’s like a statement being made across the country that mistakes are human. People change, people are unsure, and people learn to move on. Sometimes life is boring with zero drama or too much drama in it. No one’s getting beaten or used, but it’s just not right. When it’s not love between two people anymore, when it’s a signature on a line, that’s when it has to end.
Jax walked out the door with two travel bags to go with the other bags he already had for the Wyoming trip. Taylor yelled after him that he had a kid, that he couldn’t just leave her like that.
“We can talk custody later. If you have an issue, you know the number to text. I’m not gonna listen to your voicemails or calls, so don’t bother.”
Daark sat in the passenger seat of Jax’s car, waiting on Jax to make his last remarks. Jax tossed the travel bags in the backseat and settled into the driver’s seat.
“What’s next?” Daark asked.
“I have no idea.”
“Then just ask.”
“What?”
Daark nodded.
“Can I stay at your place?” Jax asked.
“Yeah.”
They started out, and somewhere along the road, Jax got curious. “What do you have planned for Pax Co.?”
“Oh, something-something. A machine that converts carbon-based materials into crude oil and waste products. But that’s not what you really care about. My end goal is change. The world is growing boring, and you’re all begging for controversy. In as covert a way as possible, I’ll take you all by the hand and lead you to the next problem. I’ll help you cure natural death, fix global warming, and whatever else you control freaks think you want to have fixed mechanically. Eventually, if I play my cards right, you’ll legalize organized murder. It’ll be like part two of the wild west, or something like that,” Daark said.
“Do I want any part of this?”
“It doesn’t matter. You can be as involved as you feel like. I’m not the boss of you.”
With those last six words, Daark convinced Jax that their new partnership had a balance of power, and Jax drove on, making his final mistake.