Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
The dude’s grip was so tight, his head was pulled back all the way, causing tears to run out the corner of his eyes. It should probably sting, but he was too worn out from it all, too fucking frozen from the phone call and the drinking. He felt nothing. Not even fear.
“You’re disgusting,” Baseball Cap cursed. He spat into Ansel’s face, then punched him in the stomach.
Ansel grunted but he couldn’t fight back. He’d consumed a whole bottle of tequila in less than six hours it was a wonder he could even stand up. In fact, maybe he wasn’t standing. Maybe the reason why his hair was pulled so tight was because his legs had buckled and the only thing holding him up was the stranger’s grip in his hair.
Still, he tried to push Baseball Freak off. He managed to shove hard enough for the guy to stumble, but since his fist was still pulling at his hair, Ansel fell too.
“Get the fuck off me,” he said.
They clashed and tumbled into the banister with a loud bang. Mr. Craig’s dog in 2B started barking.
“I’m going to teach you a lesson, you fucking faggot. You can’t go around fucking with people.” Baseball Freak bashed a fist into his cheek. “You like getting your ass reamed, I’m going to tear you up with a goddamn baseball bat. How’d you like that?” Another punch, this time getting a good shot to his ribs. For a moment, Ansel stopped breathing. He lost focus. The world grayed around the edges.
His head hit the solid wood step and he registered a foot to his chest as he tried to cling to consciousness.
“What is going on out here? Mr. Becke?” His landlord’s gruff voice was the last thing he heard before he fell into darkness.
* * *
Ansel woke to shouting.
He clutched a hand to his head and groaned. Where the hell was he? What happened?
“No, Mr. Policek, please. There has to be another way. I’m sure he didn’t mean to cause so much trouble.”
“I don’t care. I’ve had enough. I had to call the police, Ms. Reynolds. The goddamn police! The whole building woke to that nonsense. He is a disturber of the peace. I’ve told you both, time and again, to keep the noise down. You’ve missed rent more than enough times to have you thrown out for violating the rental agreement. I won’t have him in my building any longer. If I have to, I’ll tell the police the guy was a john. It will be easy for them to believe Mr. Becke is a whore. Don’t force my hand, Ms. Reynolds.”
That didn’t sound good. Ansel rolled over and fell off the couch.
The door slammed. He winced. His head was pounding. His mouth was dry. He had to pee.
“Are you okay?” Ange sounded defeated as she helped him off the floor.
“No. I feel like shit.” He was going to be sick. He covered his mouth with his hand and stood to go to the bathroom. Unfortunately the room began to spin, he landed on his knees and had to crawl into the kitchen. He managed to get to the garbage bin before he lost it.
Ange was there when he was done. She pushed a glass of water into his shaky hand and wiped his mouth with a paper towel.
“I thought you were better. I don’t get it.” She shook her head, the disappointment in her tone worse than puking in the garbage.
He drank half the glass and leaned his head against the cupboards. He should probably try to move, but the floor was pretty damn comfortable. “Get what?”
“You, Ansel. You.”
He didn’t get it either. What was happening? He blinked, but it didn’t stop the room from spinning.
“Mr. Policek is evicting us. We have to be out by the end of the month.”
The bottom dropped out of his stomach and he spun to the can again. “He can’t do that,” Ansel whispered with his head still hanging near the bucket.
“But he has done it, and I don’t think we have a leg to stand on here, not with what happened last night. What you did.” The last was a quiet condemnation, worse because it came from his best friend. His stomach ached.
Ange’s phone rang and she crossed to the living room to grab it.
“He’s here.” She sighed. “I know. Yes, fine. Okay, see you in a bit.” She hung up and sat on the couch facing the television. He could only see her profile, but she looked worn out. “The boys are on their way over.”
He rubbed his pounding head. “Why?”
“You missed a performance. You’ve had us worried to death for hours. No one could find you. You didn’t pick up your phone.”
He’d missed a show? He swallowed and closed his eyes. The guys were probably pissed at him. Oh shit, Castor’s threat. Fuck, Tam. He must be going crazy right now. Ansel’s heart twisted with self-reproach. He was such an asshole. And now Tam, his best friend, might suffer. Because of him.