Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
So I decided to change tack.
“Was it you who wrote the riddle?” I asked, since another one hadn’t appeared in about a week. How often he claimed he visited.
“It was,” he said, nodding. “Did someone draw you with giant tits?” he asked, nodding out toward the hall where my whiteboard was situated.
“They did,” I said, letting out a little laugh. “It was actually really well done.”
“Kids,” he said, shrugging. “I probably would have done the same thing if I was that age and a hot new chick moved in.” I was going to go ahead and pretend his words didn’t feel like a warm sensation moving through my chest. “So, you’re an artist?” he asked.
“I am,” I confirmed, the smile coming easy, as it always did. Even if my chosen vocation didn’t exactly secure the most stable of incomes and lifestyles. Hence living in this building in a less than ideal neighborhood.
What can I say? It was more important to me that I loved my work than it made me rich.
“Bet you love that eyesore,” he said, pointing toward a wall behind me.
Turning, I found an old painting of dogs playing poker. Cigars hung from their mouths. Beer bottles were scattered around. The style was a whole trend in art in the early 1900s.
“Everyone has their own taste,” I said, trying never to judge someone’s feelings on art. “Actually, depending on how old that is, it might be worth a decent amount of money.”
“Yeah? I’ll have to tell my uncle,” he said, looking more closely at the picture. “Good thing it’s behind glass, I guess. Everything in here is covered in smoke residue.”
“I’d be happy to do some cleaning around here for your uncle. I just don’t want to offer and make him feel uncomfortable.”
“That’s really sweet, doll. And I’ll pass that along for you. But I can pretty much tell you verbatim what his response to that will be.”
“What’s that?”
“‘I don’t need no fucking help around here. What do you think I am, some kind of…’ and then there will be a word, or string of words, that I won’t repeat.”
“I wish he would realize that we all need help sometimes,” I said. “But I won’t overstep. I just wanted to offer. I have to get to the store. Does William need me to get him anything?”
“Think I got it all covered,” he said, waving toward the bags that he hadn’t unpacked.
“Okay,” I said, starting to walk away, but turning back. “Hey, I’m sorry about snapping at you before.”
His head cocked to the side at that, his eyes warm. “Don’t apologize. Don’t blame you for being pissed. I wish I could do more too. Things are—“
“Levee? That you? The fuck are you doing here? Thought I told you to leave me the fuck alone,” William called, making Levee’s brows raise.
“Case in point,” he said.
“You’re a good nephew to keep coming, even though he doesn’t seem to appreciate it,” I told him. Maybe I’ll see you around,” I added, making my way out.
It wasn’t until I was collecting the reusable bags that I’d dropped that I finally took a slow, deep breath, trying to calm the little sparks of desire moving through me.
Maybe I would find some reason to run into this particular good-looking guy the next week.
I might have a rule against sleeping with neighbors because of the possible awkward interactions in the communal areas.
But Levee wasn’t exactly a neighbor.
And I was very clearly interested…
CHAPTER FOUR
Levee
Kylo was holding out a potato chip to Mackie, the club’s ornery macaw who had been cursing at him for the past five minutes.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck you, Benny.
“Better not let it get back to Remy that you’re feeding him junk food,” Eddie warned.
“Says the guy who slips him some of everything he cooks,” I shot back, having caught him giving the bird eggs and a piece of hash brown just that morning.
“Hey, he was giving me the sad eyes,” Eddie defended himself as he gathered some greens for the tortoise.
“He doesn’t have eyebrows,” Velle reasoned. “He can’t give the sad eyes.”
“The tort gives me sad eyes too,” Eddie insisted, shaking his head as he held out the plate of greens to Velle. “Can you bring these out to him? Toss a few of the hibiscus flowers on top too?” he asked. “What?” he asked at Velle’s bemused smile.
“Just didn’t imagine that being an arms-dealing biker would involve feeding exotic animals their lunch,” he admitted. “Kind of refreshing how everyone here has a soft side,” he added.
Velle was the club, for lack of a better way to put it, profiler. Or shrink. I dunno how to put it. But he had a knack for getting to people’s souls in just a few minutes. I figured Huck wanted him in the club to be able to help find appropriate new prospects as well as keep a finger on the pulse of the mental health of the current members. And, I imagined, to help with trying to make allies and shit like that.