Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
And… there go all the feelings of her growing on me.
“She’s kidding,” I call over my shoulder as we exit the salon and I jerk away.
“Cindy, I do not need to get laid. Trust me,” I hiss.
She stops in the middle of the sweltering parking lot, her blue eyes alive with excitement.
“Realllly? Do tell?”
“Christ.” I walk around her to the side of the Honda.
The Valley is fucking hot in the summer. The sweat is already running down my sides. She beeps the doors open and I sink into the roasting oven of her car.
“I’m waiting.” She smiles, her makeup holding up pretty well even with the sweat forming on her forehead and upper lip.
I don’t engage and shoot her a glare. “Listen, if we’re going to play pool, I have certain rules.”
She sighs and starts to giggle as she turns on the Honda and blasts the air conditioner. Hot air hits my already flushed cheeks as I pull my hair off my neck, waiting for it to turn to cold.
“I love summer,” she chirps as she turns up her crappy music.
“That statement is absurd. It’s like a hundred and nine outside. Who the fuck likes it this hot?” I grumble then turn to look at her. She’s grinning and looks happy.
Either she’s had a bunch of tragic shit happen to her, which makes her the type of person who always has to stay positive, or she’s not terribly swift. I don’t know her all that well.
“I said, I love summer—not this heat that causes my breasts to sweat,” she snips.
“Thank God,” I mumble.
She pulls into a parking lot and the smell of stale beer and garbage filters into the car, and I haven’t even opened my door yet. The lot’s filled with cars of all styles and plenty of motorcycles.
“This is perfect.”
With a smirk, she says, “I know,” grabs her purse, and steps out.
I go a little slower, wondering if Cindy is smarter than any of us give her credit for.
“Um… so when I play pool…”
She swirls to me. “Listen, I don’t want to get into this, but I have three hundred cash. If we can double it, I’ll be happy.”
I grab her arm. “Wait, what?”
“Cut the crap, Charlize.” She flips her blond hair over her shoulder and lowers her voice. “Your mom told me you’re the best pool shark she knows. I’m kind of in a jam, so let’s do this.”
I drop her arm and stare at her. What the fuck?
I hold up both hands. “Are you telling me that you faked all this?” I point at her. “So that I would go out with you and play pool… for money?” I say this almost to myself. That’s exactly what she did. I should be hurt, but I’m relieved she’s not a moron. She may be crazy, but whatever, this will be fun.
She pulls her halter top down a bit as she says, “Listen, I do want to hang out. But yes, I was banking on the fact that we could hustle together.”
I start laughing. “Oh my God, Cindy.” I almost want to hug her. “This is fucking fantastic. You’re the perfect partner for this.”
A shiver of excitement takes over. When I play pool, I become a different person. Night and day. The only other time I have ever done anything that can even compare was fucking David in the parking lot.
Shaking off any thoughts of him, I look at her. “You have no idea how relieved I am that you’re not an idiot. But I don’t hustle.” Her face drops.
“You watch too many movies. It’s illegal to hustle and I never do anything illegal.”
She sags a little. “But I have money…”
I grab the hot metal handle of the door, needing to go inside. I swear, with the sun beating down on the dumpster, all I smell is piss and stale beer.
When we enter, it’s like a black hole. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.
“You be you, and I’ll do my best.” I give her the “we got this” eyes.
She smiles and pushes her shoulders back as her breasts become an attraction of their own.
The bar is medium-sized with peanut shells on the floor, two pool tables, and one long wooden bar in the back. The entire bar is black—even the felt on the pool tables. As I glance around, I can’t help but shiver with unease. It’s pretty full and most of the people are men. And most of the men look to be bikers and are wearing the same vest David used to wear.
We walk up to the bartender, a tough-looking girl with tattoos on both arms and biceps bigger than some of the guys’.
“What can I get you?”
“Ummm,” Cindy starts twirling her hair, causing the bartender to focus on her tits along with half the men sitting at the bar.