Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 631(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 631(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
She peeked her head out the door and peered around. “Yeah? You know someone ‘round here?”
Holy shitballs. “Yeah, I used to. Gonna let me in?”
It would be nice to at least get the chance to drain his snake since he only stopped once to piss in the woods during the four-hour drive.
She took another long drag on her Pall Mall, blew it out the door over his head and stepped back. She jerked her head toward the darker interior.
He guessed that was as good of an invite as he’d get.
She closed the door behind him, turned and raked her gaze over him again. “Kinda look like your father.”
“You mean Dutch?”
Hopefully she wasn’t going to surprise him by naming someone else instead.
When she ignored his question, he glanced around the tiny living room. He thought she left for bigger and better things. Looking around her place, it was clear she’d missed that mark. By a mile.
More like a hundred miles.
The house she gave up in Manning Grove might not be some big, fancy mansion, but it was a hell of a lot better than this rat trap.
The place was filthy. Worse, it stunk.
Overflowing ashtrays were scattered around the room. Empty beer cans littered every table. The couch had bare patches on the ass-indented cushions and what fabric remained was stained.
He had no idea what color the carpet should be.
He didn’t care, either.
Thank fuck she hadn’t taken him and Chris with her. He’d deal with Dutch being a dick any day over this hell hole.
After seeing what he saw, he decided he’d rather pee in the woods once he left Baltimore. He might catch crabs by using her bathroom.
“How the fuck d’you get here?” She yanked a corner of the rebel flag away from the window. The cigarette hanging from between two fingers came close to touching the dirty fabric that covered the equally dirty window. He didn’t warn her since it would be for the best if this place burned to the ground.
“Your asshole father ain’t here, is he?” She peered out, and jerked her chin up at the LeMans. “Whose car is that?”
“Mine.”
She let the flag drop and turned on him. “You ain’t old enough to own a car.” Her brow furrowed and she used a cracked, dirty fingernail to scratch the corner of her mouth, then took another long drag on her cigarette. The ash hanging off the end had to now be an inch long. “You even old enough to drive?”
“You don’t know?”
She didn’t answer, which was his answer. She didn’t even know how old her sons were anymore. Or didn’t care. Most likely never did.
She’d forgotten about them both the second she walked out their front door with her shit packed in garbage bags.
The ash finally fell off the end of the Pall Mall and landed at Bebe’s slipper-covered feet. Of course, she paid it no mind.
His mother should’ve stuffed herself into one of those black garbage bags because she was absolute trash, too. She hadn’t been like this when she was with Dutch. She hadn’t been mother of the year material then, either, but from what Randy remembered, Dutch always rode her ass about taking care of the house and his sons. He would also get on her about her appearance. Randy didn’t think she listened to his dad, but the way she had spiraled down since leaving proved he was wrong.
Dutch and Bebe would get into some nasty fights. Both Randy and his brother had learned some really good curse words that way. It wasn’t the only thing they learned during their spats. Their parents would fight, sometimes even come to blows, then fuck through their anger. Didn’t matter where they were at the time.
Kitchen, living room, bedroom... Even on the front porch one night when she locked Dutch out of the house, accusing him of banging some other woman.
He made her come out of the house and get on her knees to sniff his dick to prove he hadn’t, then Dutch bent her right over the porch railing. It had been rough, loud and angry for both of them. It had been like two snarling tom cats fighting.
He and Chris, who were nine and five at the time, watched from the front window while the neighbors watched from theirs.
When Dutch was done fucking her, he forced her to her knees and made her suck his dick clean. Then he locked her ass out of the house for being a bitch.
Someone had called the damn pigs and both of them ended up spending the night in jail to dry out and for a shitload of minor charges. One of the women from the club had come over to stay with them that night. She slept in their parents’ bed with one of Dutch’s club brothers and they made a racket, too. Lots of squeaky springs, headboard slamming and screams of “fuck me harder!”