Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
August arches a brow. “Maybe.”
“He went to school with my cousin. I think they used to hang out back in the day,” she says. To some people around here, running around with a Monreaux gives you bragging rights. “They got busted at a party out at the gravel pit off Highway 50.”
“That doesn’t sound anything like my brother,” he says, monotone.
“Well maybe not now.” Adriana’s overfilled lips curl. “But back in the day, I hear he was quite the wild child.”
August sniffs, gaze still trained on me. “Depends on your definition of wild.”
“What’s he up to these days, anyway?” Adriana continues, oblivious to the fact that he isn’t interested in shooting the breeze about his older brother. “I see him riding around town in that electric sports car of his. The matte black one with the gunmetal-gray wheels.”
I know the one. I’ve seen it dozens of times. But the windows have always been too dark to see who was seated behind the steering wheel.
Now I know.
“It’s a piece of shit,” he says, emotionless. “Pretty to look at. Nothing under the hood worth writing home about.”
Damn. Bad blood?
I’d always heard Monreaux were thick as thieves, but I’d never considered they’d have an ounce of inner turmoil. Perhaps they’re competitive with one another? Most brothers are.
Adriana and I exchange looks, and she gives an awkward chuckle. “Um, okay. So … your total today is thirteen hundred dollars and fifty-two cents.”
He slides a black card across the counter, equidistant between Adriana and myself. We both reach at the same time, hands colliding.
“Sorry, go ahead,” I say to her. If ever there was a time to pray for a customer rush, it’s now. But the store is dead. It’s just the three of us now. The assistant manager is hiding in the back somewhere, as per usual.
She swipes the card, tapping her fingers to the beat of the pop song playing from ceiling speakers while we wait. “I heard your brother used to throw the most bomb parties at your house. My cousin has, like, the craziest stories.” The register spits out a receipt and Adriana hands him a pen. “I think he said this one time, you brother—”
“—my brother’s parties sucked,” he says. “All those rumors you’ve heard, he probably started those himself. No one fucking likes Gannon.”
Adriana bites her lip. “Damn. Okay.”
“Speaking of parties, I’m having one this weekend. Friday.” He signs his receipt, his silvery gaze flicking to mine. “You two should stop by.”
My heart slams to my feet.
I’m not sure what his end game is here, but I have no desire to be part of it. Last night was a mistake. The kind of thing you do when you’re young and dumb and delirious from a mild case of heat stroke.
My “no thanks” intersects with Adriana’s “oh-my-god-yes.”
She elbows me.
“I’m sorry,” August says, turning to me. “I didn’t quite catch that.”
“I can’t. But thank you,” I say.
His head cocks, eyes narrowing into an incredulous squint. “You can’t? Or you don’t want to?”
“Sher, come on. It’ll be fun,” Adriana says. “Just tell your parents you’re staying at my place.”
August studies me.
“Seriously, it’s not a big deal. And you don’t even have to drink or anything … I’ve always wanted to see the Monreaux mansion … could be pretty epic …” Adriana continues to try to sell me on something I refuse to buy. If working with her the past six months has taught me anything, it’s that she’s relentless when it comes to getting what she wants. It’s why she’s our top salesperson. She could convince the most discerning soul that the sky is glittering olive green, and they wouldn’t bat a lash when she’s done. “It would be a dream come true for me.”
August smirks.
I’m glad he finds this entertaining.
“I will literally die if you don’t go, Sher,” Adriana continues. Half joking. Half not.
“You don’t want that on your conscience, do you … Sher?” August interjects. My name on his tongue is velvet smooth, sending shivers down my arm.
Ripping a piece of paper from a nearby note pad, August scribbles five numbers. “Party starts at nine. Here’s the gate code for the night.”
“Awesome.” Adriana folds the note and places it in her back pocket like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “We’ll definitely see you then …”
August gives me a lingering glance before showing himself out, and the moment he’s gone, I exhale the longest, hardest breath.
“Okay, what’s up with you?” Adriana asks when we’re alone. “Why are you acting so weird?”
“I was up late last night.” I grab a bottle of Windex and a roll of paper towels and wipe the already flawless display case behind us. “Just … tired.”
“Too tired to realize we just got invited to the freaking Monreaux mansion?” If her brows were any higher they’d be in her hairline. “Do you realize how huge that is? And how epic that night will be? I mean, I’ve only heard stories, but, like … all you can drink booze, weed, hot guys, good music, a pool … it’s the perfect summer party.”