Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Where the fuck have you been?”
The high he’d been coasting on since leaving Alec’s place slipped a notch. “Those guys are to help put this place back together,” Keyes said, ignoring the question. “You don’t have to stick around today. I got—”
“You finally get some pussy?” his father asked, his face scrunching in hopeful speculation as he looked Keyes up and down.
Key scrubbed a hand down his face and let out a disgusted groan. Not this again. His old man needed to build a fucking bridge and walk his tired ass over it. He’d beaten this one into the ground. “Go home.”
“There ain’t no man that smells like that on purpose,” his father said.
“You don’t even know what you’re fuckin’ sayin’,” Keyes countered and turned away.
“You need to be fuckin’ pussy. You’re a damn embarrassment.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Keyes saw a Lexus pull into the parking lot. He rolled his shoulders as his father’s constant bullshit grated on his nerves like metal on metal. Where that man was concerned, Keyes had been on the edge for a while now. Visions of balling up his fist and driving it straight through that god-awful mouth gave Keyes a split second of happiness.
Keyes had to get hold of this resentment. He didn’t like being that kind of man. He’d gone to great measures to learn to control himself. Using his normal defense mechanisms, he chanted the words, what would my uncle do, as he walked straight past his father toward the parking lot.
The day laborers were standing close to their vehicle, and Keyes used hand gestures to guide them inside. “We got panelin’ inside. Start putting it back on the walls—no gaps. Pop, show ’em where the tools are,” Keyes called out, walking to the newly arrived car’s driver-side window as it rolled down. “Can I help you?”
“Are you open?” Dumb question by a poser in a black car, black interior, black suit, black hair slicked back in one of those fancy styles. He’d guess this guy liked himself a lot.
“Looks like it,” Keyes answered, tucking his fingers in his front jeans pocket.
“I have a slow leak. I got the tire from you about six months ago. You said you’d fix it if anything happened,” the guy said with a lot of bad attitude, not making a move to leave the car. Keyes had no way to check the truth of the story since the feds still had him locked out of all his records.
“Okay. Which one?” he asked.
“The back passenger side.”
Keyes gave a nod and went for the jack and an impact wrench. When he came back to the car, he tapped on the car’s passenger window and motioned for him to roll the window down. “Best if you shut the engine off and get out.”
The window that had only cracked to open rolled back up in his face. Oh man, first his father, now this dude. The fucking universe seemed to have it out for him today.
The driver took his time, and Keyes didn’t start to lift the car until he heard the door shut. While taking the tire off, the guy came up right behind him. “I don’t like being here.”
Keyes said nothing, letting the impact wrench block out any additional words. Honestly, Keyes couldn’t argue with him. He didn’t like the douchebag being there either.
“I don’t need any shit coming down on me for coming to you. But by God, I hate being taken advantage of.”
Key removed the tire, before cocking his head back at the guy. Yep, he was fancy. That was the best way to describe him—fancy suit, polished shoes, fancy sunglasses. He could use a tan, but that didn’t take away from the look he was going for. A quick mental image of Key busting the guy’s nose came to mind.
So far this morning, he’d mentally knocked out his pop and this creep, and it wasn’t even noon. Keyes smiled as he rolled the wheel inside, again ignoring the statement. He didn’t understand the taken advantage of remark but didn’t care enough to ask questions. It seemed best to leave him standing there.
Inside the shop, Keyes began his process, looking for the hole as his old man came from the back, both the laborers following behind him. “Pop, let ’em work. I told ’em what they needed to do.”
“Take that fuckin’ bun out of your goddamn hair. It’s embarrassin’. It gays you up. Everybody already knows my son’s a goddamn queer.”
The fancy guy laughed from the parking lot. His father’s voice was just so goddamn loud.
“Shut the fuck up, old man, or so help me…” Keyes broke. His pissed off levels maxing out, he stalked forward. Every single gay wisecrack he’d put up with fueled his rage. All the bullshit he’d endured until right this moment tightened his fist, making him take a swing at his old man, driving his fist with such a force that when he purposefully struck the stack of tires behind his father’s head, they went tumbling. His father was so close he had to feel the air rush past his face as Keyes’s fist hit its mark.