Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I land on the rough road with a thump, and fuck, it hurts. I graze multiple parts of my body and a few shocked people honk their horns at me as I lamely wave and push to my feet. Mex’s truck door swings open, but I’m already moving through the cars quickly. He pauses just as his boots hit the ground and the light turns green. Honking cars and angry voices fill the air as I reach the sidewalk and turn to face him. He’s standing there, knowing damn well he has to get back into his truck.
Our eyes lock.
I give him a sympathetic smile.
“Sorry!” I yell.
Then, with that, I turn and disappear into the crowd.
Tough luck, biker.
You’ll need to do better than that to keep me down.
Best of luck next time.
THE FIRST THING I DO is figure out where the hell I am.
I get off the main street and find a slinky café in the back streets where I ask to use their phone. I find out that I’m a solid three hours away from where I need to be, which means I need to get a ride and get home fast. I already know that what I’m going to return to will be chaos, so I can’t wait a second longer. The waitress lets me use the phone, and I dial the only person in this world I trust, my best friend and equally terrible person, Jayme.
He works alongside me, and I met him through my mother’s shady business dealings. We hit it off, and I suppose we just knew that this friendship was the best we would ever get. You know, fucked up lives and evil parents, you only get so many options. He is loyal to my mother and her work but, mostly, he is always there for me, and I love that about him. He has my back, no matter the situation, and I know I can count on him.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
The moment he answers and hears my voice, he’s all questions.
“I’m sorry, it’s a long story, but I need you to come and get me.”
“Where are you?”
When I tell him, he falls silent.
“You better explain yourself when I get there.”
“Oh, believe me, I will.”
“Don’t move.”
He hangs up the phone.
“I wasn’t going to,” I mutter to myself, walking to the back of the café after thanking the waitress and finding a booth tucked away.
I can see the outside, so if Mex decides to walk past looking for me, I’ll know. Ordering a coffee and a toasted sandwich, I eat in silence, chewing every piece of food slowly. When I’m done, I’m still not satisfied so I get a piece of chocolate cake, too. It’s divine, and when my stomach is finally full, I feel a whole lot better. One thing I don’t like is going hungry. I’m certain most humans don’t but, for me, it’s an especially fragile subject.
Jayme arrives about four hours after our phone call. When he walks into the café, I leap to my feet, glad he found me before anyone else could. I rush over to him, throwing my arms around his neck. He puts one arm around my waist, but I can tell by how stiff his body is that he’s pissed with me. Pulling back, I look up into his light brown eyes and give him my best “I’m sorry” smile. I already know it’ll be bad, but I don’t need him to be angry at me, too.
“You’ve got a lot of shit to sort out,” he mutters, eyes raking over my face. “What the fuck happened to you?”
“I’ll tell you in the truck,” I say, taking his hand and pulling him outside.
I see his truck parked and immediately get in, feeling a whole lot safer the moment the door closes behind me. As soon as Jayme gets in, he looks over to me, that rugged face tight. He’s good looking, in the typical bad boy kind of way. You know, the sandy blond hair that’s always messy, the charming eyes and boyish smile that makes you think he’s not going to fuck you and leave but that’s exactly what he’ll do. He’s athletic in build, and I just know he would have been popular in high school.
Probably captain of the football team or something like that.
The years have brought out the worst in Jayme, though. His face is marred with faint scars from fighting, his nose is slightly crooked, he has tattoos, and it’s not hard to tell he isn’t afraid to rough and tumble. It’s sad, really, because he could have gone so far. Like me, though, he is tangled up in a world that – he knows just as well as I do – there is no escaping from. We were raised in darkness, and we’ll die in darkness.