Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Awesome. Maybe they can make love out there. I know I’m being irrational, but honestly, I am just so disgusted. I like Tyler. Liked, I correct myself. Past tense, and that’s the way it needs to stay because I want nothing at all to do with anyone who has been with and fallen for Rita’s shit. I can’t reconcile the man I thought I knew with the kind of person that Rita normally draws to her like a spider in her web. A black widow, even. She sucks the life out of her prey. I bet that’s what happened with red banana hammock guy. He probably sells oranges on the side of the highway in Seattle right now.
“Well, that’s a wrap on this round of darts,” Reese announces. “Anyone want a shot before we start another game?”
I’ve not yet found a shot that I actually like, so I’m an easy no. “I’m going to get another beer though,” I say.
Ben and Jana both say they’re good, which means Reese and I are the only ones who need anything. I thought he was warming up but the walk to the bar takes place in silence. That’s not a bad thing, because it gives me time to stare at the door to the bar like I can will Tyler to come back through it. Too bad it doesn’t work. After we work our way up to the front, a beautiful redhead comes to take our order. “What can I get y’all?” she asks.
Her slight southern accent suggests she’s the Meghan that Ben is into.
“I’ll have a cup of whatever light beer you have on tap,” I answer.
“Hey, Meghan. I didn’t think you worked the front,” Reese says.
Apparently, he’s a little less standoffish with people who aren’t me.
She wrinkles her nose and gestures with her neck back over her shoulder. “I don’t, but one of the girls got a text from her babysitter, so I said I’d fill in while she called her back. I figure I can’t mess up the easy orders. If something more complicated comes in, I’ll need to ask Tasha to do it though,” she laughs.
“You know I’m simple,” he says. “I’ll take a shot of whiskey and a bottle of Fat Tire.”
Smiling, she turns and walks away to fulfill our order. Seconds later, Ben appears and wedges his way between us. “Why’s she behind the bar?” he asks. The question is directed at Reese, who quickly fills him in.
“If she’s serving, I’m sitting up here.”
“Fuck, dude,” Reese grumbles. “You’ve got it so goddamn bad. I’ll stay with you so you don’t look like a fuckin’ weirdo.”
Tuning out their conversation, I turn my attention to the door. Tyler’s been outside with Rita for a few minutes now. Long enough that I’m wondering if they’re kissing and making up. God, that stings. It really shouldn’t, but I can’t help the way I feel.
“Here you go.”
Meghan has returned with our drinks, so I take two dollars out of my wallet and hand it to Reese. As opposed to Tyler, who wouldn’t let me pay for my drink earlier, he takes it without argument. Picking up the fresh red cup of beer, I take a sip. “I’m going to head back to Jana,” I say.
When Ben offers to walk me back, I give him a funny look. “I think I’ve got the whole walk across the room thing covered, thanks.”
With one last furtive glance at the door, I turn and head back to the table. As I walk, I see a man approach the table. By the time I get there, he and Jana are shaking hands.
“Ashley, this is Scooter,” Jana says.
The look she gives me says she’s not feeling this guy at all. When he turns, I understand why. He’s tall, pasty, and looks like he thinks he’s hot shit. I’d bet money he hasn’t been here before.
“It’s my lucky day,” he says.
Is smarmy voice a thing? Because if it’s not, it should be.
“I’m Scooter Sanderson. I’m here for the weekend to house hunt. Thought I’d check this place out to get a feel for the local flavor.”
The emphasis he puts on the word flavor is gag-worthy.
“Yeah,” he continues, his voice a little too loud. “I’m looking at two of the five-bedroom places out on the point. New construction, top of the line. I only buy the best.”
Ew. A braggart. It isn’t lost on me that Jana is regarding him much the same way I am. A more perceptive person would notice we’re doing the bare minimum to be polite. We haven’t even offered up our names. You’d think he’d clue in.
“This is my first time here,” he says, like either of us asked him. “Honestly, I wasn’t feeling too enthusiastic about this town—especially when I rolled up to this shit hole. My car probably cost more than this whole place. It’s a Bentley Continental GT.”