Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
I felt a modicum of relief that Joshua thought shit with Jeff was right.
On the other hand, they’d gotten kicked out of a bowling alley once for “human bowling” during which they wore helmets, and frankly, even though my brother had explained it to me, I still couldn’t comprehend how they tossed each other down the lanes into the pins.
I just knew they got kicked out for trying, and I knew that particular shenanigan was Joshua’s idea.
“Do you know about this Street Warrior business?” I pushed.
He clamped his mouth shut and glowered at me.
So no more lying, because I called him on it, just no more talking.
Right.
“When you talk to him again, you tell him I’m looking for him, and it’d be nice he checked in with his big sis since I’ve been worried sick about him,” I snapped.
“Will do,” he clipped, glanced beyond me and said, “Ladies.”
He then shut the door in my face.
The gall!
Fuck him.
I was so totally contacting Katelyn.
I saw the error of my ways in that moment. I should have bypassed Joshua and went right to her.
I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Though, if she was on shift, I wouldn’t bother her. She worked twelve-hour shifts and dealt with enough shit during it, she didn’t need mine.
I’d text her tomorrow and hope she wasn’t working.
We all trooped back to my Mini and squeezed in.
“I know you’re pissed, and I know this is heavy stuff, but if Harlow’s sister came looking for her, and Harlow told you not to say anything, you wouldn’t say anything,” Raye pointed out before I turned on the ignition.
“Harlow doesn’t have a sister,” I reminded her, purposefully being obtuse because I was pissed and frustrated, though not in equal measure at that juncture.
Harlow, by the by, only had a Golden Boy older brother who I really tried to like the few times I’d met him, but he was such an arrogant shithead, it was hard.
“You get what I’m saying,” Raye went on.
“Huh,” I grunted, then fired up my baby and set us motoring.
“Okay, the day wasn’t a bust. My guess from what we just heard is that Jeff is back to taking care of himself,” Harlow noted.
“Yeah.” I was still grunting.
“And he’s in touch with someone, so not in the wind,” Harlow kept searching for the silver lining.
“Yeah,” I repeated.
“And that guy will probably tell him to contact you, so maybe he will.” Harlow was a dog with a bone with her damned positivity.
“He knows what this Street Warrior gig is, and he didn’t share, which doesn’t say good things to me,” I announced.
“Yeah. Dude got real freaked when that came up,” Luna mumbled from the back seat.
“This doesn’t give me fuzzy, happy vibes,” I stated.
No one said anything.
“I’m texting Katelyn tomorrow. She’s the shit. She’ll give me the skinny,” I announced.
“I think that’s a good plan,” Raye said.
“And remember. We heard back from Arthur, and he’s looking into it too. So between the Angels, the Hottie Squad and Arthur, we’ll crack it,” Luna put in.
I hoped so.
“Not that what we’re discussing isn’t important,” Harlow said. “But we’re in suburbia and they have a lot of shops. Do you know what you’re wearing to Eric’s tonight? Or do you need to go shopping?”
“I’m wearing my white shorts, black men’s-style button-down, my silver belt and my silver sandals,” I stated.
“The short shorts?” Harlow whispered, agog.
“The short shorts,” I confirmed.
“The silver flat sandals? Or the silver high, platform wedges?” Raye asked.
“Duh. Wedges,” I answered.
“Oh my God. That’s like the best, at-home-for-pizza-and-a-movie-please-God-feel-me-up-when-we-eventually-make-out outfit ever,” Luna gushed.
Luna wasn’t a gusher.
Which meant I was smiling when I said, “You got that right, sister.”
Harlow giggled.
Raye chuckled.
Luna patted me on the shoulder then shoved a thumb’s up beside my face from the back.
I turned onto the ramp for I-10.
It was nearing three. It took about half an hour to get back to the city.
This meant I’d have about two and a half hours to spruce up, find a great bottle, and make it to Eric’s house in the Biltmore area.
Perfect timing.
I was nervous AF.
And I couldn’t wait.
EIGHT
TEASE
Okay, I couldn’t do this.
I’d just pulled into the driveway of Eric’s sprawling ranch-style house in one of Phoenix’s toniest neighborhoods, and even if my outfit kicked ass, I was back to wondering if I was wrong about the signals, because friends could make pizza together and watch a movie.
But my outfit did not say friend.
With my newfound openness with my chicks, I wanted to text one of them for a quick pep talk.
But I was sitting in his double driveway, staring at his long-ass house, and it would’ve seemed weird if I sat there for ten minutes getting my shit sharp.
“Now or never, Wylde,” I muttered to myself, threw my door open, my leg out, and I grabbed the bottle, my black crossbody and exited the car.