Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
God help us.
“I hate this idea already,” I say. “I hate everything about it. All of it.”
“You haven’t even heard it yet.”
“I don’t have to. I already know that it’s probably going to make one of our brothers pissed, and after the whole you made Moss think he was getting arrested bit, I’m tired of looking over my shoulder all the time.”
“But that had nothing to do with you. So why are you looking over your shoulder?”
I narrow my eyes. “Because somehow my stupid ass always gets wrangled into helping you so you don’t fuck everything up.”
Banks beams. I don’t know what to say to that.
Paige: One more thing—you didn’t hear this from me, but Moss might have lost your White Sox hat today. Maybe lost as in it landed in a spot where concrete was being poured. Also maybe not totally on accident. So you know, there’s that. Just some info to use as necessary.
Me: HE is YOUR brother tonight. Actually, you can have him forever. I bequeath Moss to you. You’re welcome.
Paige: I’m so happy that I live far, far away.
Me: Liar.
Paige: Going to make pancakes.
Me: Love you.
I toss my phone on the counter.
Banks picks up the papers the tacos were wrapped in and drops them in the trash. Weird.
“Are you done talking about me with our sister?” he asks.
“For now. I’m sure you’ll come back up again.”
He leans against the sink. His lips curl into a Grinch-esque smile. “So Jess is always bitching about how I borrow shit from his house, right?”
“Well,” I say, pretending to think about it. “I think it’s more that you take it and don’t return it—which is more like stealing and less like borrowing. But yeah. You’re close.”
“Whatever.” He takes a quick breath. “Tasha was at work today talking about how she’s having these custom stickers made for her daughter’s birthday party invitations or some dumb shit. I was only half-listening until she said that the last time they had stickers made, her toddler got ahold of them and stuck them to every surface in the house.”
His eyes twinkle in delight.
“And they found them for weeks,” he adds, lifting his chin like he just solved world hunger. “Everywhere. In cabinets, on the dog, in the car …”
My stomach drops. “Banks … no.”
“Maddox … yes.” He grins. “Jess is always giving me hell about taking stuff. The grill lighters. The applesauce in his pantry that he was never going to eat anyway, so that’s really just him being greedy. His shaving cream.”
“His shaving cream?”
“I was out.” He looks at me like I’m out of line to even question such a thing. “What was I supposed to do?”
“Uh, go buy some? Or buy two and then you’ll have a spare.”
“I was already late for work.”
“Then plan.” I shake my head and refocus. “Look, if you’re going where I think you’re going with this …”
He lowers his voice as if we’re conspiring to rob a bank. “Instead of taking stuff, I’ll give him stuff.”
I walk around the kitchen to the stool that Banks occupied earlier and sit. I need the support.
This is a terrible idea, even though I don’t fully see where he’s going with it. What’s he going to do—put stickers all over Jess’s house?
Jess will kill him. Throttle him. He might even murder him, and while I’ll always do my best to save Banks’s ass, I’m not sure I’ll be able to save him this time. There’s a line somewhere that Banks has managed not to cross. I think that line is just before stickers.
I run a hand down my face.
On the one hand, I appreciate Banks’s antics. He keeps things lively. He keeps life entertaining. It’s mostly fun because he doesn’t fuck with me, but whatever. On the other hand, I understand why Moss and Jess—because even Banks doesn’t have big enough balls to mess with Foxx too much—get sick of him.
I get sick of him too.
The guy has no boundaries, no common sense, and fails to take any sort of responsibility for his day-to-day life. Yet somehow, he runs a hugely successful custom car restoration business. People trust him with vehicles worth millions. Hell, Banks is practically a celebrity in the car world, but he’d have his water shut off if the bill wasn’t on autopay.
Which Paige set up for him.
“Tasha gave me the website of the place where she buys hers, but Paige knew a better place.” He bites his lip and squints. “I might have ordered one thousand of them today.”
I gulp, my eyes bugging out. “A thousand? You ordered one thousand stickers?”
“Yup.”
“Of what?”
“Of me.” He smiles widely. “I may have had a small photo shoot to get the perfect shot. I thought we’d have a hard time getting something usable, but we ended up with fifteen that were print-worthy.”