Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 149606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 499(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 499(@300wpm)
“You need directions someplace? A ride? You look lost,” he says.
I let out a chuckle. “Just having a really shitty night. I wasn’t ready to go home yet.”
I miss Ember, and I’m worried sick about her, but I’m too fucked in the head to see her or talk yet. The last thing I want to do is blow up in front of her again.
“I’m in the same boat. I was just headin’ to a bar my buddy owns down the street. Gonna have a drink, maybe shoot some pool to clear my fuckin’ head. Want to join me? You stand here much longer, you’re probably gonna freeze to death or get mugged again.”
I pull my cell phone out to check the time and realize my battery is dead. Shit.
“Ya know what?” I slide my phone into my back pocket. “Why not. I owe you a few drinks.”
Grinning, he shoves his hand at me. “Name’s Jude Lucketti. My friends call me Lucky.”
I shake his hand. “Asher Valentine.”
His eyebrow shoots up, and he narrows his eyes at me. “The singer?”
I lift a weary shoulder. “On some days.”
“Not today,” he says, as we head down the dark street. “Today you’re just a guy going to have a drink.”
The bar is dark and dingy. So small you’d never find it if you didn’t know it was there. The place is empty except for the bartender and two old guys who don’t shift their attention from the tiny TV mounted on the wall.
It’s exactly the kind of place I want to hide in for a while.
“Hey, Lucky. What’ll ya have?” The bartender looks about as old and unkept as the bar. Long, snarly beard, wire-rimmed, smudgy glasses, and an unraveling black knit hat on his head.
“Give us two long islands!” Jude yells back as we sit at a table in the back. “Good for you?” he asks me.
I nod and unzip my jacket. “I’m easy.”
I’m not a drinker, but I could use something to dull the edge after the night I’m having. My mind keeps wandering back to Ember—wondering if she went home and if she’s okay. Is she thinking about me? Does she miss me? Does she understand why I felt blindsided? I ache to hear her voice, to feel her lips on the back of my head, kissing all this bad shit away.
Wordlessly, the bartender puts our drinks in front of us and returns to his station two feet away from the dust-coated television screen.
“That hits the spot,” Jude says after he takes a long swig.
I nod in agreement. The liquid burns my throat and stomach. I’m exhausted and starving, but there’s no way I could sleep or eat, even if I tried.
“So where’s home?” Jude asks.
“Small town in New Hampshire.”
“Really? Me too. Lived in Brookline my entire life.”
Interesting. After seeing him fight like that, I figured he grew up in the city.
“Small world,” I reply. “I got some friends in Brookline.”
He tips his drink at me. “Now you got another one.”
“Can’t have too many friends.” I lean back against the cracked leather booth. “You work here in the city?”
“Rarely. I’m in construction. Most of my jobs are local.”
I glance over at the old bartender skeptically. “And he’s your buddy?”
Jude laughs. “Nah, he’s my uncle Al. I wander in here a couple times a month. Check in on him. Play some pool or darts, get a few free drinks. It reminds me I don’t want to end up like them.” He cocks his head toward the three old men. “Lonely. Drinking all day. Nothing at home. Fuck that.”
“I hear ya.” I eye the wedding band on his hand. “You married?”
“I guess you could say that. My life’s a mess, man. And I don’t even know how the fuck it got that way.”
Join the club, pal.
“That’s usually the way it happens.”
He shakes his head. “Ever just have a chick totally haunt you? Like no matter what, you just can’t get her out of your head? Out of your veins?”
I take a swig of my drink. “Yup. Been living that since I was fifteen years old. I wouldn’t change it, though.”
Even after what happened tonight.
“This girl is doing my head in. I’ve never felt like this.” He leans forward and whispers, “She’s only eighteen. Eight-fucking-teen. What the fuck? I gotta be sick, right? To feel that way?”
Hello, flashbacks.
“And how old are you?”
“Way older than eighteen, obviously.”
Closing my eyes, I let out a low laugh. “If you’re just chasing after a piece of ass, then yeah, I’d say it’s wrong. Really wrong in every way.”
He frowns with disgust. “I’m not interested in a piece of ass. I mean yeah, she’s cute as hell, but, man, I think I’m in love with this girl. We fuckin’ click in all the right ways. I just want to take care of her, spend my life with her. Like your songs, man. You get what I’m talking about. She makes me feel like I’m worth something.”