Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
The problem was, I had, and it hadn’t made a difference. Dad was an angry drunk. And I’d been his whipping post for most of my life—until I could defend myself. Now, I was nothing but a rival. “I’m just pissed he got a hit in,” I said.
Nash took a beer from the fridge. “Yeah, but girls dig scars, man.” He headed toward his living room, fishing out his wallet before he dropped into the ratty recliner in the corner, then held up a crisp twenty. “You got any on you?”
I pulled a baggie from my pocket and launched it at him before taking the cash. Just like the money I made selling those history tests, this would go into the envelope I kept hidden in my top dresser drawer. An envelope that would eventually have an address scribbled across the front and a stamp placed in the corner.
Nash grabbed his guitar from the side of the couch, strumming out a chord. “Me and some of the guys from the band are having a party tonight if you want to invite your friends over.”
Nash and his friends were wannabe rock stars, and they partied just like they were practicing for fame. Having a night off sounded like a great idea.
Hours later, people crowded into Nash’s small living room, bumping in beat with the music, spilling beer, and smoking.
Hendrix skirted around a group of girls in short skirts, his gaze going straight to their asses. “Man, this is awesome.” He grabbed at his crotch. “If this is what being in a band is about, we need to start one.”
“You can’t play an instrument.”
“I play pussy, Bell. What else do I need to do? I mean...” He dug his phone from his pocket. His brow knitted as he glanced down at the screen. “No way. Wolf said there’s some dickhole named Drew selling weed through Frank’s drive-thru.” Hendrix cracked his neck to the side. “Oh, yeah. Getting into a fight tonight.”
I snatched the phone from his hand, skimming over the text. “Through a drive-thru, really?”
Money had been tight since Hendrix’s brother, Zepp, had gone to jail. This was not the crap any of us needed right now. We were already barely scraping by. “Come on,” I said, digging into my pocket for my keys. “Let’s go down to Frank’s.”
Hendrix fist-pumped the air. “I’m going on a trip, to beat some dumbass dick,” he sang to the tune of the Little Einstein’s theme song. “Soaring through the sky, he might die…”
“You know, your ability to take any children’s song and make it messed up is almost impressive.” I patted his back on my way to the door.
Ten minutes later, we idled in a line that wrapped around Frank’s Famous Chicken. Hendrix sat in the passenger seat, throwing another practice punch. “Why are we in the drive-thru, anyway? We should just go inside and pummel the assdribble.”
“Because for all we know Drew’s from the Northside.”
That shut up Hendrix. We were high school kids pedaling a little pot to scrape by, and those guys...Those guys were full-time drug dealers, and I didn’t really want a bullet in my head. I’d never heard of a guy named Drew in Dayton.
Static crackled over the speakers when I pulled up to the menu board, placed our order, and waited again.
Hendrix huffed, then snatched the boob-shaped stress ball from my dashboard. “You know, if Pepperoni Nips wasn’t such a psycho, you could’ve asked her who the dickhead is.”
“Yeah. Well...”
Asking Nikki anything would be a last resort, even if she did work here. That was for damn sure. One sideways glance from me and she thought I wanted her.
The truck in front of us spit out a black cloud of exhaust as it drove off, and we moved forward.
“I’m telling you, man, if old Salami Tits knew about this Drew thing and she didn’t say anything, I’m gonna hate her even more, and I’m gonna—”
The drive-thru window cranked open with a creak of old hinges, and before I faced the window, the scent of perfume that reminded me of having my tongue on an expensive-tasting pussy wafted inside my car.
My dick was already at attention before Genevieve spun away from the register. “Two number ones and—” Her expression went blank before she released a heavy groan. “Really?”
“Two number ones, and you forgot the blowjob.”
Hendrix punched my shoulder. “No way, man. She’s hot. I called dibs in my head five seconds ago.”
My gaze remained trained on Genevieve. “I’ve already had my tongue in her pussy, Hendrix.” I cocked a brow. “So, she’s mine.” Sure, it was an asshole thing to say, but girls rarely ever went for a nice guy.
“Definitely not, asshole.” If looks could kill... I probably shouldn’t have found that homicidal gleam in her eyes so hot, but I totally did.