Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Axel sat down next to English in the waiting area.
“I’m sure you’ll never forget this night, baby. Burnt biscuits. My crazy mother and sister screaming at each other, then at me. You and me arguin’ in the truck, and now this.” He flipped the page attached to the clipboard, and started to fill it out.
“I’m going to remember it all right, but not for the reasons you think. There’s nothing wrong with your mother. She’s just clear about how she feels, and isn’t ashamed to expresses it. Your sister is hard to read, the jury is still out on that, but I think I like her.”
“She’s just protective of me is all.”
“Yeah, I figured. She’s been through a lot. Tries to come off stronger than she actually is. Wants to be stronger, like your mama. Your nephew is sweet and innocent. As for you?” She shrugged. “You’re crazy as hell, just like your mother said, but I love you.”
“…And I found out tonight that you’re crazy, too. Did you really growl at me? Cujo and The Hound of the Baskervilles, up in this bitch!”
They both burst out laughing.
“I don’t know why I did that. It just happened.” She laughed. “I was just in shock about us going at each other like that… There was a lot of tension, but it really had nothing to do with us. Too much is going on, we’re both incredibly stressed out, and things just blew up.” He nodded in agreement. “Anyway, your mother was right about another thing, too.”
“What’s that?” He crossed out a wrong number, and corrected it.
“You’re a damn good man. From the top of your head, down to your feet. You’re hard on the inside, not just the outside, but there’s a part of you that actually gives a damn about other people. Not just yourself. I love that about you. Empathy. Compassion. You’ve got good sense, and almost like a sixth sense. Case in point: You seem to know what I need without me telling you. That’s dangerous. Men aren’t supposed to be mind readers.”
They smiled at one another. He wanted to kiss her right then and there, but resisted. Stay focused.
“I think you can just tap into folks real well, Axel. See behind the bullshit. Maybe that’s why Ms. Florence came to you in your dreams. She knew you’d get the message loud and clear, and alert your friends. You don’t know if Caspian has had any dreams of her, since he’s yet to return your calls, but something tells me even if he has, he wasn’t the first. She chose you to roll out her red carpet for, with good reason.”
He kept on quietly filling the paperwork, chatting at intervals with soft music in the background—right then, a country song he’d never heard before. It wasn’t long before he was back on his feet at that window by the bail bondman’s desk, speaking to that same man, who took his paperwork and said he’d put it in the system. He went back to his seat beside English, and they waited, holding hands.
About an hour later, Daddy appeared at a door in the back of the room, an officer by his side. The man had a paper sack in his cuffed hands, possibly containing his jacket and cigarettes, and as he approached, his eyes lit up. Axel gave him the once over. Daddy is looking as skinny as ever. Face drawn as though a vacuum hose had been stuck down his throat. Unshaven, with white and dark stubble all over his face. Arms long, scraggy, and dangling, with no muscle tone. His thin brown hair was brushed back into a weak ponytail, showing his widow’s peak and broad forehead.
Daddy’s lips curled when they laid eyes on one another. And soon enough, he was nothing but teeth. “Axel! I’m so glad to see you!” He shot a glance at English. “Howdy,” he offered, looking a bit confused.
“Hello, Mr. Hendrix,” English replied dryly. It was more than evident what he’d told her about his father was at the forefront of her mind. He hated that for her.
Daddy looked even more perplexed now, but said not a word so far. Axel signed another form as the handcuffs were removed from his father’s wrist. The man behind the desk gave a couple more bits of information, and off they went.
“Come on. Let’s go,” Axel said. Nobody said a word as they went down the steps, and out the door of that big brick building with all of those windows. Once they were settled in the truck, Axel lit a cigarette and offered his father one. Daddy took it, then made himself comfortable in the back, stretching and grunting and such.
“I sure am thirsty. You got any beer, son?”
“No, Daddy, I don’t. Just a bottle of water. You want that?”