Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“I didn’t get anyone pregnant.” Although it should be said that coming on Jesse’s stomach and watching my cum drip right down her slit wasn’t exactly Family Planning 101.
“What is it, then?”
The waiter emerged with the bill, and I took the opportunity to tuck my credit card in and stall. Normally, I had designated my Friday evenings for takeout with Mom. It was the one evening where I didn’t entertain anyone and focused on pursuing the heart of the one woman I actually gave a fuck about. It was easier to chill at home and watch one of her weird Russian shows than to book a place and see all the desperate wannabes of Todos Santos flocking to the local restaurants and bars. Her crack was the Russian version of Big Brother. That shit was crazier than a condomless party at an unlicensed brothel. Every five minutes, a huge fight would break out. My mom would tsk in horror, but I knew she secretly enjoyed it. And I enjoyed watching her enjoy it. Anyway, we rarely hung out in public together, so her suspicion wasn’t completely unwarranted.
We stood up, and I laced her arm in mine. “I need help.”
“Is it drugs?” She gasped, going for the next-best-thing after surprise pregnancy. I let my jaw tick without snapping at her last comment. Yes, I was a saint. And yes, she was forgiven.
“Actually, I need help choosing a gift, but thank you for the vote of confidence.”
“A gift for who?”
“That girl I told you about. It’s her birthday.”
“The rape victim?”
The word almost made me flinch. I hated that Jesse was reduced to this. Least of all by my mother. A flashback of that scar zinged through my mind. The bastards were going to pay. It wasn’t a promise, but a simple fact.
“Yeah. Her.”
“Do you have an idea what she likes? Where to start?”
I did, and that worried the hell out of me.
We went to Vicious’ fancy-ass mall and browsed the stores, which, any man could tell you, is the equivalent of throwing your time down the shitter after kissing it goodbye. I’d never shopped for a gift before. I mean, I had. I wasn’t a crappy boyfriend. I got Edie gifts all the time. But I always did the usual thing of getting her gear or a new surfboard whenever it was time to celebrate whatever shit date society deemed as important. With Jesse, it was different. I didn’t want to give her something she needed; I wanted to give her something that would show her that she didn’t need anyone but herself.
Jesus, what?
By the time I escorted Mom back to her car, she looked like she needed a two-week vacation on a Caribbean island. I may have taken the task a little too seriously, but since I couldn’t exactly show Jesse how I felt about her with my dick, I figured a gift was a good place to start.
“You chose the perfect present.” Mom swiveled to face me, flattening her palm over my chest and smiling up at me. Her sensible Prius was parked behind her, ready to take her back to the office building where she accepted clients as a star child therapist. “I’m so proud of you, my sun.”
“Damn straight you are. You thought I was a drug-addicted, deadbeat dad just an hour ago. Bet you’re feeling pretty awful about yourself right now.”
She swatted my chest and laughed. “Does that mean I get to meet her soon?”
I gave it a second of thought. “She is not big on people. I’ll ask.”
“Neither are you. Maybe that’s why you like each other so much.”
“Maybe.”
Maybe it’s because I promised to like her, didn’t understand just how much I would, and now I’m in too deep.
“By the way, how’s the hotel going? And the surf park? Are you going to bid on that?” Mamul fished her sunglasses from her handbag, her hand already on the door handle of her car. I very rarely talked business with my mom. First of all, she didn’t particularly care for the specifics. She was just happy I owned something that was not a contagious STD or a lengthy criminal record at the age of twenty-five. Second of all, I dreaded the day my mom would ask me how, exactly, I funded all of my business adventures, because the answer was less than impressive. I shoved my hand inside my pocket, fingering the joint I knew I was going to smoke the minute she turned around. I’d fucking earned it, gift-shopping for a chick I hadn’t even slept with.
But you came close, asshole. And also: all over her stomach.
“It’s going well. I’m refurbishing the hotel and will probably put an offer on the land when it’s available for auction. Why’re you asking?”
“Now who’s the skeptical one between us?” Her smile stroked my cheek. I swear it did. “Just wanted to see how you are doing.”