Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
My fingers swiftly become slick.
Tense.
Dread drags itself the length of my spine and down my leg until my foot is no longer on the accelerator.
I got off late from work that night, too, although it wasn’t because of book club, but because I was working on last minute scheduling changes to the winter wonderland book fair, something I could’ve easily done from my laptop at home had that been allowed. See, Chris could bring work home, but he didn’t like for me to. If I was home, he wanted me home. Present. Focused on him. Or us. Or whatever family portrait bullshit moment we were pretending to have. He wanted a housewife – so to speak – and in some ways I wanted to give him that.
Several slow deep breaths are executed at the same time I gently remind myself that that scenario repeating itself isn’t possible.
I don’t have a fiancé anymore.
Or boyfriend for that matter.
Fuck, I haven’t even had a recent enough date to be the person they contact as the individual who last saw him alive.
Yeah, I hear how pathetic my dating life is. Let’s wait to discuss that subject until we’re safely inside the house and out of the pending sleet, okay?
I park in my driveway and do my best to casually give the commotion next door a once over.
What! We can’t just brazenly stare. That’s rude!
Waiting in my car to see who “Perfect Mrs. Prescott” is having arrested crosses my mind yet getting out seems like the more natural option. The one that says I’m not at all interested in which little neighborhood piggie has caught the attention of the big, bad, bitchy wolf.
And she is a bitch. I don’t call her that label loosely. She once called HOA because she believed the leaves in my yard had been there too long. Never mind the fact, we hadn’t been home for a week because we were on our engagementmoon, which was why we hadn’t done anything about them. Her needless whining cost us a hefty fine and an increase in lawn maintenance fees. I swear the woman lives to nitpick her neighbors. Last week, I watched her nastily point out to the woman in the house on the other side of her, where the carwash had missed spots during its cleaning prior to proclaiming she needed to get that taken care of to keep up the prestigiousness of the community. Yeah…That’s the type of person she is. Pain in the ass would be a compliment at this point.
The officer turns the individual they’ve cuffed towards their vehicle revealing to me a face that sends my heart back into my throat.
No! No. No. No.
“Excuse me!” I exclaim and grab my workbag from the passenger seat. “Wait!” Slamming my car door, I hastily hustle down my driveway towards the men in uniform. “Please wait!”
The arresting officer ceases his movements and meets my brown gaze with his. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Little Jaye Jenkins.”
Yes, yes, I know, but when I was five, my dad always introduced me that way. It stuck. Pretty much the entire force – including rookies who are younger than me – refer to me this way.
“Evening, Officer Brallon!” Hiding my anxiety is difficult but done. “I didn’t know you were back on patrol already. I thought you had a couple more weeks.”
His stubble covered, warm ivory face lights up on a small laugh. “Anymore desk duty, and I would’ve considered eating my own brass.”
“True story,” his red headed partner pipes in, joining the conversation. “Evening, Little Jaye Jenkins.”
“Good evening, Officer McAdams. How’s life with a newborn?”
“Loud,” he lightly laughs as he arrives at his partner’s side. “That girl has a set of lungs on her that is unmatched.”
“Could you please stop being so chummy with my neighbor and resume arresting that vagrant?” Gwenith huffs from the sidewalk space she’s occupying in her satin and lace sleep robe.
First of all, kudos to her for using a top shelf word. Second of all, why did she raid a Kardashian’s closet for something to wear while she had this poor man arrested? That was just unnecessary.
Officer Brallon rolls his eyes wordlessly informing that he doesn’t want to be making this arrest either.
Which is good.
Because if I have anything to do with it, he won’t.
“He’s not a vagrant, Mrs. Prescott, he’s my friend.”
The unexpected declaration slowly lifts Mr. Green Eyes’s head up until our stares can lock. Confusion and gratitude battle for the right to be seen, yet he gives no other indication that what I said is untrue.
Maybe because it’s not?
Maybe because we both want it to be true therefore in a weird way it already is?
Please keep comments and concerns to yourself until after we’ve successfully saved him from wrongful incarceration.
My smile softens while my tone remains kind. “Can you two please tell me why he’s being arrested?”