Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
I didn’t need to work out what I wanted to do, I already knew what I needed to do. Run.
Dazed by the morning’s events, I followed him through the spacious bar, past a couple of pool tables and over to a set of booths on the other side of the room. Black Stone Cherry’s “Burnin” was playing on the surround sound, and in the bar a one-armed man was carrying around a clipboard and taking some kind of stock of liquor bottles.
“Wait for me here. I could be a while.” He gave me a reassuring but closed-lipped smile. “You want anything to drink or eat while you wait?”
If I put anything in my stomach, I was going to bring it right back up again. My life was spinning out of control, and I had no idea where I was going to land.
I shook my head and tried my best at a smile.
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
“I’m going to talk to Bull, and then we have chapel. Afterward, you and I will talk and work out a plan.” He paused, his beautiful eyes trailing over my face. “Try to keep calm. He’s not going to find you here.”
I huffed out a breath and forced a smile. He really didn’t know who he was dealing with.
As Chance walked away, I watched his broad back with the Kings of Mayhem patch blazed across it and felt a stab of longing, wishing this wasn’t unfolding this way. He was the kind of man you could fall in love with if your life wasn’t as frenzied as a shark attack.
I watched him disappear around a corner before I pulled out my phone and brought up Facebook. I had an alias account, Hope Lee, with a profile picture of an Asian girl that I’d stolen from the Internet and a few fake posts with more images that didn’t belong to me. Every month I added a new post about something that never happened, with people who didn’t exist, in a town I wasn’t in. It was my only means of keeping an eye on my foster brother, Barrett. It was my only link to him. And at times, my only peace of mind, because knowing where he was meant I could stay ahead of him.
It made me sick to befriend him. And when he accepted my friend request, that connection alone was enough to make me violently ill. But it was necessary because I needed to keep my eye on him.
And he made it easy because Barrett Mather Silvermane was an arrogant rich boy who liked to show off, and Facebook was the perfect playground for him to boast. To shout to the world about how awesome he was. Not to mention handsome. Rich. Charming.
Criminally insane.
Something he conveniently left out of the façade he created on social media.
Instead, he showed the world the made-up Barrett Silvermane. A successful realtor who knew how to work hard during the week and then party harder on the weekend with his lascivious buddies and a string of beautiful women. The handsome man with a charismatic smile that hid a twisted mind. Pictures of a pretend life. Playful images with a dog I knew would mean nothing to him because he didn’t have feelings. Only a primal instinct to inflict pain and fear.
Instagram was the same. Just like I did with Facebook, I created an Instagram account, but I didn’t follow him. I simply searched for him whenever I needed to know what he was up to. Social media gave me an advantage; it meant I could see him without him seeing me.
At first, I used to check it every day. But seeing his posts left me feeling sick and anxious, so I only let myself check once a week, and usually before I went to do something I knew would keep my mind preoccupied afterwards.
Now as I brought up his page, I felt the bile at the back of my throat. My hands began to shake and my stomach churned, but I needed to see when he last posted something and where he was.
Relief flooded me when I saw Barrett had posted this morning. It was a picture of him in front of a property he’d just sold in Huntington Beach. He posed with a married couple and was shaking hands with the man. Smiles all around. The caption read: So happy to see this beautiful property to go such a beautiful couple. Congratulations Mr. & Mrs. Sanders. With the hashtag #soldtoday
The syrupy sweetness was hard to swallow.
I quickly hopped out of Facebook and into Instagram. There were two new posts. The first was a picture taken outside a very exclusive restaurant in Newport with the caption: Heading to this dive to celebrate another generous sale. #SoCalEats #slummingit
The second was a split picture of two different watches, a gold Rolex and a diamond-rimmed Cartier, with the pretentious caption: Couldn’t decide. Rolex or Cartier. So I bought them both. #iwearcartier #rolex #richboy