Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“Kyle’s doing great.”
I laugh softly. “I still can’t believe you named him Kyle, Kylie. It’s like you’re trying to confuse people.”
She laughs with me but with a reserved quality. I imagine her husband lurking in the background, shooting her looks. He’s silently asking what she’s thinking, having a friendly conversation with a killer, even if I am her brother.
I get it. I don’t blame them. They live a normal life. She’s doing me a courtesy by even calling.
“We named him after Sebastian’s dad. You know that,” she says. “Plus, I like it. Kyle and Kylie. It has a nice ring to it.”
“It does.”
There’s an awkward pause.
“Maybe I could meet him one of these days,” I go on.
“Uh, yeah, maybe,” she sighs. “Well, probably not, honestly. I don’t think Sebastian would like that.”
“That’s his right,” I say, then grit my teeth, thinking I haven’t even spoken to my five-year-old nephew. I’m not even sure he knows I exist.
“Did you meet Lucy?” Kylie asks.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“We almost kissed.”
Kylie gasps.
For a second, it’s like we’re kids again, talking in her bedroom as Mom and her latest boyfriend cause mayhem downstairs. I’m waiting for the moment the prick comes upstairs and tries to bother my baby sister, another reason I learned how to fight.
“Did I hear that right?” she says.
“Yeah.”
“But… how? Why? What the hell?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“What do you mean, almost?”
“We stopped at the last second. I’m not sure I read the signals right. It’s been a long time.”
This is a mischaracterization. It’s been a long time since I was intimate with a lady, but I’ve never felt this way about anybody. Never felt this certain. I think she wanted it too—my woman.
“I think there was a connection. Chemistry. Whatever.”
“That’s so messed up, Jamie. Goddamn twisted.”
I’m unsure what I expected her to say, but I need to hear this—a reminder of how wrong it is.
“I know.”
“Don’t almost kiss her again. How old is she, anyway?”
“Twenty.”
“She’s twenty. You killed her dad, and you almost kissed.”
When she phrases it like that, it sounds so messed up.
“I love you, Jamie. You saved me more times than I can count when we were kids. From Mom. From her boyfriends. From the jerks in school. But somewhere along the way, I don’t know. It’s like I stopped knowing who you are. What you did…”
Her voice breaks.
“How could you do that?”
I did it for you.
“I love you, Kylie,” I say, then hang up the phone.
I launch straight into a workout, calisthenics, the sort of stuff a man can do in a cell.
Tomorrow, I will hit the streets and walk into every business I see. Restaurants, warehouses, whatever, it doesn’t matter. I need cash. I need to work to have self-respect. Most of all, I need to forget about Lucy.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lucy
I’m carrying a tower of trays, plates, and glasses across the restaurant, somehow balancing them and ignoring the sweat sliding down my back. I have to focus harder than usual since my thoughts keep straying to yesterday, the hallway, the near kiss.
I wonder what the lunchtime customers would say if I told them I almost kissed the man who killed my dad.
My boss, Dirk, scowls at me when I walk into the kitchen. He’s only a few years older than me, twenty-five, but he’s the owner’s son and was promoted to general manager a few weeks ago. Since then, Dirk the Jerk has more than earned his nickname.
He taps a pen against his clipboard, making the innocent gesture aggressive. He’s tall and wide and has a preppy football douche look. I’m surprised he’s not wearing his letterman jacket. He’s nothing compared to Jamie, but then, really, I need to stop comparing people to Jamie.
“Does that seem safe, Lucy?” he says condescendingly.
I grit my teeth. The kitchen staff stays busy, and the atmosphere is oppressive. Everybody knows Dirk the Jerk enjoys picking at people for the sheer fun of it.
“Hello?” he snaps, less than a second later, before I’ve had a chance to respond.
“I was just trying to be efficient,” I tell him. “There are two tables that need my attention.”
It’s the lunchtime rush, but he blocks the path between me and the door, tapping the pen against the clipboard. Tap, tap, tap. It’s one of his favorite things to do.
“You need to be more careful, okay, kiddo? You could’ve dropped something.”
I say nothing, glaring at him. I think this is one reason he keeps coming at me. The kiddo is new, an attempt to get a reaction out of me. That’s it. I never give him the response he wants, so he’ll keep chipping away, over and over, until I’ve exploded. Classic bully, but I need this job. Aunt Lila paid off much of the house before she passed, so the mortgage payments aren’t impossible to meet, but it’s still tough. It’s still a struggle. He huffs when I walk past him.