Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
I don't really know what changed.
It's not like I can argue no, Dad, you're wrong, Damon isn't a bad influence. He promised to keep alcohol out of the house and I haven't caught him breaking that rule yet. I don't have a case.
There's really only one play here.
The truth.
Well, a part of the truth.
This is because I love music. Because I need him as a partner. The end.
The realization brings me back to Earth. I look around the table again. Laurel is still sitting there, sipping her cosmopolitan. Zack is still shaking his head. Jackson is still staring at me in horror, ignoring his old-fashioned.
The scene is familiar. The four of us have spent so many evenings here. But we don't huddle around the table for group talks anymore. We're all adults with our own lives, jobs, homes.
Well, they have their own homes. I'm the only one with the misfortune of continuing to live here.
"If no one is going to talk, I'll start." Laurel flips a long, wavy strand behind her ear. "Damon is hot. Way to go, Cassie." She raises her glass to toast.
Jackson shoots the pink cocktail his patented death glare. It's subtle yet effective. That's Jackson. If he wasn't a lawyer, he could be an assassin. "Damon is not hot." He looks our sister in the eyes. "And that's beside the point."
"Sorry, J." Laurel shakes her head. "Damon is objectively hot." She pulls her phone from her faux leather purse and shows off a picture of Damon.
One we took at the house. A close-up of his arm around my waist, his tattooed bicep on display against my loose band shirt. The things that define both of us.
She nods her approval of the photo. "He has all the markers. Symmetry. Shoulder hip ratio. Tattoos."
Zack laughs. "The ladies love it."
"He's tall, too. And damn, his arm is huge. Did he spend the last three months at the gym twenty-four seven?" Laurel asks. "I don't remember him being this well-built."
"Can we get to that's beside the point?" Jackson adjusts his glasses and rubs his temples. He's already halfway to a headache.
That's what Zack and Laurel's antics do to anyone who isn't equally ridiculous.
"Damon is an asshole." Jackson looks to me with sincerity in his green eyes. "You know that, Cass."
Laurel waves him off. "He's a hot asshole. And women love assholes. Don't be naive."
"Why do women love assholes?" Zack asks.
"I'd think you would know." She doesn't add since you are an asshole. She says it with her hair flip. "It's not the jerk thing. It's the directness. You're the same way, J. You're just more… contained about it. Like Dad."
"Wow. Did you just say he's as uptight as Dad?" Zack laughs. "That's harsh, even for me."
"I didn't say he's as uptight as Dad. I said he's like Dad. Only, you know, without the fun part."
Zack mimes her taking a shovel and digging.
Oh. She's digging her own grave. That's kind of true. Or it would be if Jackson cared about their opinions. Or if Jackson was in denial about his need for control.
Like me, he knows he's his father's child.
Like me, he knows Laurel and Zack live to cause trouble.
Unlike me, he's pretty good at ignoring them.
He takes another sip, and he turns away from their antics.
Laurel continues. She looks me in the eyes and, with an excited voice, she asks, "Is he a talented asshole too?"
"He's a gifted musician," I say.
"I love the dexterity. Does he back it up with creativity too. Oh, I know, let's rank each thing on a one to ten scale: technical skill, stamina, creativity."
I know she's talking about sex, but those all apply to music too, so I say, "Perfect ten out of ten."
"No way. The hot ones are never as creative. They don't have to learn," she says. "And what about size? Guys with big dicks are the worst lays, I swear. They think they have to show up and pump. They don't learn any technique. And they've apparently never heard of cunnilingus."
"That's why women love me," Zack says.
Laurel laughs like she's going to burst from it. "Are you seriously so obsessed with talking about your dick that you bring up you have a small dick??"
"It's not that I have a small dick," Zack says.
"But you do?" She laughs. "This is a first. A man bragging about his tiny penis. Should we call a psychologist?" She looks to Jackson for support.
He shakes his head I cannot with you two. "People don't talk about their siblings this way."
People don't. They do. They do it because it frustrates him. That's the number one reason.
And since he is obviously annoyed, they continue.
"No. Women love me because I'm hot but I try," Zack says.
"You try 'cause you have nothing to back it up." She continues to laugh.
"Please. You know I'd own it if I had a small dick. I have a perfectly reasonably sized dick," he says. "I'm not going to claim it's some sort of monster. Women don't like that anyway."