Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Did I stutter, cocksucker?”
A lighter whizzed past his face. “I am not psychotic, you asshole.”
When pushed, she absolutely was. Like a feral hyena spoon-fed a little helping of meth.
“You are both equally psychotic. This is going to be a massive shitshow.” He rejoined the game. “You two are going to kill each other. It’s going to be like Amber Turd shitting on the bed times one hundred.”
Lola took a seat on the arm of the recliner, right in front of the box fan. I tried to focus on the game until she crossed one leg over the other. The movement inched the hem of her shirt a little farther up her thigh. Damn, she had the best legs. And I had a thing for those best legs…
“Ha! Take that, you asshole,” Bell shouted.
I glanced back at the screen and found my avatar in a pool of blood. Laughing, he reached underneath the couch and pulled my box of Pop-Tarts out of its hiding spot.
I slapped a hand to my forehead when he unwrapped the foil and took a bite. “Man, why would you do that?”
“What is your deal?”
“Hiding Pop-Tarts from me now, Hendrix?” Taking a slow sip of her coffee, Lola smirked. “You know I love a challenge.”
Last night she was raging over me imaginary fucking some other girl, and now she was wanting to play games with my Pop-Tarts just to piss me off.
Whiplash. Medusa-induced whiplash.
“Great, Bell.” I whacked him. “Look what you’ve done now.”
“Ate a Pop-Tart. That I paid for?” He set the open box on the coffee table.
“No.” I pointed an angry finger across the room at the evil perched on the recliner. “You’ve let Medusa in on one of my hiding spots.”
He shook his head and pushed off the couch. “Can’t wait to see what happens when she hears your headboard banging the wall. Do you want white roses or red at your funeral?”
“I don’t care who he screws,” Lola said. “Same as he doesn’t care who I screw. Do you, Hendrix?”
My attention snapped to her with that damn mug and those damn legs. The bones in my neck cracked. I cared. Oh, I caaaaared. “If you like fucking corpses,” I said, then bit the inside of my cheek on a laugh I knew bordered on psychotic. But that was what the girl did. She drove me to the edge of madness.
My grip on the controller tightened, my brow lifting as I stared across the room at her. “Because if a guy is stupid enough to come over here and fuck you, that’s what he’s going to be—a dead, rotting corpse.”
“Screw Pop-Tarts.” Bellamy cackled, tossing the wrapper on the coffee table. “I need popcorn for this crap.”
“Well, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.” Lola lifted a brow.
My eye twitched just as the backdoor creaked open, then banged shut. “I’ll fucking goose your gander…” Pluck it and stuff it.
Bellamy snorted just as Wolf stepped into the living room from the kitchen. His bloodshot eyes widened when he glanced at Lola in the recliner. “Why is she in my chair?” His attention shot toward me. “Ah, hell. You’re fucking her again, aren’t you?”
Lola huffed. “I’m renting a room. No fucking. Get over it already.”
Wolf slapped a hand to his face and shook his head. “And this is how the world ends.”
“You’re the biggest pair of drama queens I’ve ever met,” Lola grumbled before pushing to her feet.
She snatched a packet of Pop-Tarts from the box before Bellamy could swipe it. “Too slow,” she said like a brat and then lifted the pastry in a makeshift fuck-you toast on her way out of the room. I took a quick glance at her ass, almost hanging out of that shirt and my aggravation over Pop-Tarts turned into aggravation over my swelling dick.
The guys were right.
This living arrangement would be akin to some kind of apocalypse—possibly just for my balls and dignity. What in the hell had I done to myself?
“Again,” Wolf chuckled. “You’re one doomed motherfucker.”
I turned on the sofa and flipped him off. “Shut up, cocksucker. Nothing on my ass is doomed outside of my finances.”
He fell into the recliner with a heavy sigh. “All our finances are doomed. Because Tony’s in jail.”
When it rained in Dayton, it poured liquid shit.
Chapter 16
LOLA
My first night in Hendrix’s house was uneventful. He played PlayStation. I stayed in my room. It was all very civil.
Although, midway through my crappy post-church Sunday shift, I still felt sick from the Pop-Tarts I’d stolen and eaten this morning.
Based on the fact that my current customer asked for his two dollars’ worth of change, I figured my already black mood was about to descend into abysmal.
Fake-smiling like a clown, I placed his money on the table.
The man took it and tossed a tiny booklet with the words Jesus Saves on top of his crumbs.