Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I managed not to do it in her face, luckily, and instead closed the door before I lost the battle with my laughter.
“That woman is crazy if she thinks he wants anything to do with her,” Sunny murmured.
I joined her back at the window and asked, “Why do you say that?”
“Because, while I was watching them in the hallway, he pushed her away about ten times.”
“They looked pretty cozy when I let Davis out.”
“Well, you missed the part where she tried to kiss him, on his bad side, and he pushed her away,” Sunny muttered. “Hey, why do you think people wear their pants like that when they just have to hold them up as they walk?”
I walked to the window and looked at who she was pointing to.
It was Kevin, the drug dealer.
“Is it already five o’clock?” I asked, turning around so I could see the clock that hung over our TV.
“Yep,” Sunny confirmed just as I read the time. “He’s actually kind of late.”
He was late…by nearly five minutes. And the same cars kept circling the block as they waited for him to come out.
“I think it’s time to get Davis inside,” I muttered. “I’ll be right back.”
In the time it took me to get downstairs to Davis, Kevin had already done the fist-bump-handshake-thing with five cars, and I was left wondering if I should start looking for another place to stay.
But then I laughed, because the reality of the situation was, unless I wanted to live in my shop, I didn’t have any money. Not with having to pay for health insurance, and bills from both my house and my shop.
Which didn’t include the small things like things Davis needed for school.
Which sucked. Because I hated living in this neighborhood.
Hated that this went on underneath my nose.
Hated that I knew what was going on, but couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.
“Davis,” I called, causing both Kaleb/Kalen, Davis, and Kevin to look at me. “Time for dinner!”
Davis looked at me funny, but luckily he didn’t call me out on the fact that it wasn’t dinner time yet. Nor did I cook.
“I’ll see you later, Kellen,” Davis muttered.
Kellen. That was the kid’s name.
“Later,” Kellen called.
The way both Kevin and Kellen watched us as we walked away, though, made me certain that they knew it wasn’t dinner time, either.
Chapter 6
I will totally judge you on your choice of breakfast cereal. What kind of weirdo doesn’t like their mornings filled with frosted goodness?
-Imogen’s secret thoughts
Aaron
“That’s ridiculous,” my co-worker and fellow guard, Cashius Carruthers, grumbled. “I don’t even think they should get access to the kitchen. What the fuck are they going to do anyway? Half of them can’t even lift the freakin’ knife off the counter.”
“I agree,” I commiserated. “But it’s not like I can do anything here to change what’s already going into effect.”
“And you’re leaving,” Cash grumbled.
I was.
I was starting at the fire department in Mooresville part-time on Monday.
Today was my last day and I was glad.
This place was downright depressing.
The city itself was okay. Small, and it felt like it was stuck back in the eighties, but it was still okay. It still wasn’t Kilgore.
But the damn city revolved around the freakin’ prison.
“I’ll be back for odd shifts until I get full-time at the station,” I informed him.
Maybe for two weeks anyway.
Once I was on full-time, which they promised would be within a couple weeks after the current firefighter who was retiring finished out his mandatory two-weeks notice, then I’d be slipping into his position.
I’d be working twenty-four hour shifts, every three days, and I couldn’t fucking wait.
When the accident happened that burned the left side of my body, I’d lost the ability to fully extend and contract my fingers, elbow and knee for a while. I also had limited mobility where turning my head was concerned.
It’d taken me almost six months of therapy to get full range of motion back, and now I felt comfortable putting my body at someone’s back who might need my help to survive.
“Well, I hope you have a good night, man,” Carruthers continued. “The cake was good.”
I snorted.
The cake was nonexistent, and he knew it.
The turnaround for employees at the prison was high.
No one blinked an eye if someone left.
In my time here, over ten employees had come and gone.
Carruthers had come three months ago, and likely would leave before the month was out if his talk tonight had been truthful.
“Catch you later,” I muttered as I hefted my box. “Maybe for a beer at Druids.”
Carruthers’ eyes lit.
“Druids, huh?” he snorted. “I’ve never been to a biker bar.”
Carruthers was also gay.
I didn’t swing that way and never would.
But that didn’t stop him from trying.
“Druids isn’t completely a biker bar,” I told him. “Come on Friday, and I’ll introduce you.”
Carruthers gave me a semi-salute, and I grinned before exiting the building.