Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
The woman who kept glancing at me, just like she used to do when she was a kid, and I was a man.
Then, it’d always made me feel uncomfortable.
My father had been a shit dad, and an even shittier person in real life. When he was thirty-eight, he’d been busted for indecent exposure with a minor…and that’d been the day that I’d promised never to take up with a younger woman.
A younger woman exactly like Hennessy had always been to me.
Though the age difference didn’t seem like it was a lot now, it was back then. Back when she was a starry eyed young girl, and I was a man.
Back when it was still fresh in my mind that my father had tried to have sex with a girl that was over half his age younger. Back when everyone compared me to him.
“You okay?”
I looked up to see Ariya frowning at me.
“Just fine,” I said, sitting back. “You ready to order?”
Ariya lifted her lip. “They don’t have anything here that I can eat. I’m on a Vegan diet until I can lose this last five pounds I gained while I was sick last month.”
I grunted something under my breath. “Then why did you agree to come here if you weren’t going to eat anything?”
Ariya smiled. “I’ve been trying to get you to go out with me since you’ve been back. I’d have gone to the movies, or even Hail House if you’d asked me.”
I snorted. She wouldn’t have gotten into Hail House. Not without my permission, anyway.
The boys at the door had a list that they’d never let in, and a lot of the exes of the club members—IE the boys that worked at Hail Auto Recovery and the club itself—were known DO NOT ALLOW IN. Meaning, they knew who they were, and if one of us didn’t give it the okay, then they weren’t allowed entrance.
It was easier to circumvent any possible fights before they happened, rather than to allow them in and hope for the best.
“Alrighty, then,” I said, holding up my hand and flagging the waitress down.
She came over in seconds, her eyes wary of me.
Everyone knew who I was.
It was hard to miss the guy that was six foot five, and tattooed from the tips of his fingers, to the base of his neck.
If they hadn’t seen me in person, they’d heard of me. And it only took one look to realize that the stories of what I looked like weren’t an exaggeration.
“W-what can I get you?” she asked.
That’s when I realized I knew the waitress. She was also a checker at the grocery store, and the woman whose car I’d repossessed not even a few hours before.
“I’ll have two of what that girl a couple tables over is having,” I pointed in Hennessy’s direction. “No drink, though, except for water.”
The waitress turned, nodded her head, and then moved away without asking if Ariya wanted anything, which I thought was secretly hilarious.
Ariya found it annoying.
See, that was the thing about Ariya…we were polar opposites.
Where I found joy in doing outside activities, she didn’t want to do anything if it didn’t involve air conditioning. For example, fishing. She hated to fish. Despised it, actually.
That was my favorite thing to do when I wasn’t working.
She also hated getting dirty, where the majority of my life was spent enjoying the finer things in life—such as taking a lifted truck through a mud puddle just because I fucking could.
Then there was her idea of kids. She wanted three, and all of them were to be put through private school, so they could get the best education known to man. And she wouldn’t settle for anything less.
I had no problem with three kids. I also had no problem sending them to private school if that was what they needed. What I had a problem with was paying for said private school.
I never had been, or would be, made of money.
I made money so I could spend it. I didn’t have a healthy savings account, and if I were being honest, I likely would have if I didn’t keep buying toys—such as a new motorcycle, or a new truck that I could fix up just to sell in three weeks.
Then there was my baby, my Chevelle. I bought parts for her on a daily basis, fine tuning, nit picking. Anything that I thought she needed, I’d give to her.
And Ariya thought that was stupid.
Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. But it was my money, and my decision to make. A woman would never dictate what I was and wasn’t allowed to spend my hard-earned money on.
Which was another reason why Ariya and I never got along.
Our views on life were completely different.
“That was rude,” Ariya said. Then her voice changed. “Is that little Hennessy Hanes over there?”