Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
“Oh baby, yeah,” he says, giggling like a psychopath. “Scribble on that back fat.”
The words don’t make sense, but it doesn’t matter. They still make me see red—vibrant, crazy-making red. The next thing I know, I’m charging through the door into the back of the kitchen, expecting to encounter Binx getting it on with some employee of the bar.
What would I have done if my expectations had been met?
I have no idea.
Getting jealous and possessive with a woman I’ve pushed away with both hands wouldn’t have been cool. It would have been a dick move, and I do my best not to be a dick, especially to the women in my life. Women put up with enough shit from the male population, and I have a daughter. I’m very invested in being a good example to other men as to how the feminine half of the species should be treated—namely, with respect.
And it isn’t respectful to interfere with a friend’s sexual choices, even if they are making those choices mere feet from a family function, where their father was recently singing 70’s soft rock.
But Binx isn’t giving a chef a hand job or feeling up a dishwasher. No, she’s…drawing. Drawing on Pierce Livermore, the owner of The Whiskey Bar and Grill, a regular at our gym, and the guy I call Liverwurst behind his back because he’s the worst.
He’s the kind of guy who spends half his workout taking selfies in the mirror, never cleans the equipment after he’s sweated all over it, and—worst of all—stands around naked after his shower, making small talk about the latest NHL game with his saggy balls dangling down to mid-thigh. He also talks shit about women, usually about the college girls who come to lift while they’re on break, but he’s made repulsive comments about Binx before, too.
Of course, that was before I glared him down at the sinks and told him to keep her name out of his mouth.
Since then, he’s been well-behaved when it comes to my best friend.
Or so I thought…
Right now, he isn’t behaving himself. When I burst through the door, he’s craning his neck to stare at Binx’s ass in her skintight bell-bottoms, while she doodles on him with a Sharpie, too engrossed in her work to realize he’s being a pervert.
Then, she’s too shocked by me bursting through the door.
“Oh my God, what the fuck?” she says, surging to her feet so fast that she hits Pierce’s chin with the top of her head and they both curse in pain.
“I heard you talking and thought you were in trouble,” I blurt out, catching a glimpse of what looks like a pirate ship on Pierce’s back before he tugs his shirt down.
“No, I’m fine. Jesus. Sorry about smashing your face,” she says to Liverwurst, touching a hand to his chest.
I instantly want to snatch her hand away and spray it down with hand sanitizer, and that’s before Pierce flexes, making his pecs jump beneath his long-sleeved t-shirt.
“It’s okay,” he says, rubbing his chin with one hand as he touches the side of her waist with the other.
“No, it’s not. Hands off,” I snap, the words out of my mouth before I can think better of them.
Instantly, I know I’ve fucked up, but even I’m not prepared for the suddenness of the storm that sweeps into Binx’s eyes.
“What?” she demands, in a tone that makes it clear, the word isn’t a question. It’s a statement on my epic tomfoolery.
I lift my hands in surrender and take a breath. “I just meant…” I trail off, my thoughts spinning, sending up sprays of thought gravel.
What did I mean? What? My improvisational skills aren’t great at the best of times, and these are not the best of times. Not with Pierce standing there looking all smug and expectant, like a kid about to watch his bully get pummeled under the bleachers.
But I’m not the bully here—he is. He’s the one who talked about Binx’s “rack” and how he wouldn’t mind “tapping that ass” even though, at the time, she didn’t have any hair to grab, while he was “giving it to her” from behind. But I can’t very well call him out on that to his face, not in front of Binx. We all go to the same gym and run in the same social circles and Bad Dog is a small town. Spilling the dirt like this would make things uncomfortable for all of us.
I have to think of something else to say.
Some reasonable excuse.
Think, asshole, think! For fuck’s sake.
But I’ve got nothing.
Nothing but one ridiculous idea, it looks like I’m going to have to run with…
Chapter 6
SEVEN
“Contamination,” I finally blurt out, wincing a little.
It’s lame, so fucking lame, but I’ve already started down this path, and there’s no turning back now.