Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
The house seemed empty. I scanned the common areas, the kitchen and the living room, and found no sign of my roommate. As I stepped inside, I thought I could hear the shower running. I stood just outside the bathroom to confirm it and heard the water shut off. Taking advantage of a few minutes of privacy, I changed my clothes and brushed my hair. I wanted to look good for this conversation, I wasn’t sure why. I picked out a sexy little T-shirt and pair of hip-hugging jeans. Pajamas would indicate that I meant to stay the night, and I wasn’t sure if that would be an option. Sure, my name was on the lease, but if he was angry, I didn’t want to assume he would ask me to stay.
I arranged myself in the living room, on the couch, effortlessly displayed. He walked in a moment later, shirtless, toweling off his hair. Seeing me, he stopped, dropping the towel onto the recliner.
“Tammy,” he said.
I stood up. “I’m sorry for leaving.”
“I understand.” His eyes swept up my figure, pausing at my breasts before continuing up to my face. “You have a right to be angry. I’m glad you came back.”
“You said you would tell me the whole story,” I reminded him.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Let me get a shirt.”
I wished he wouldn’t, but it didn’t seem appropriate to stop him. He returned with a green T-shirt on, an army color with a tree stamped on the front that looked like an old work shirt. He went to the fridge to grab a beer, popped the top, and drank half of it before turning back to me. I waited silently while he chose a seat, moving the towel off the recliner so he could occupy its place.
“You remember Porter,” he said softly.
I nodded. I wasn’t surprised that it came back to Porter. That brunch at the diner had been suspicious as hell, with everything that went unsaid zapping through the air like missiles. Mike shifted in his seat, getting comfortable.
“Porter and I went to school together. A lot of the kids, once they graduated, moved on to bigger and better things. I had to stay and help my parents with the lumberyard. Porter didn’t have any plans for the future, and he just hung around day after day, getting wasted.” Mike took another drink to solidify his courage before soldiering on.
“I thought that’s all he was doing, just getting drunk. I thought he was an alcoholic, but then I found out he was in with a real bad crowd. These guys, they were moving crystal meth and cocaine through town. Porter was selling for them, but he started using the products instead of selling them and ended up owing these guys a fortune.
“He came to me one night, to my apartment above the garage. He was so far gone on whatever drug or combination of drugs he was using. He said that they were gonna kill him if he didn’t replace what he had used.” Mike sighed, setting the beer down on the end table. “I’ve been over and over my decision, wondering if it was the right one. But I think if I hadn’t done what I did, Porter really would be dead.”
I reached across the empty space between us and patted his hand.
He curled his fingers around my palm and squeezed. “I knew someone at the lumberyard who was a dealer. I used my savings at the time to buy a hundred grams of cocaine.” He shook his head in disgust. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know what kind of drugs were missing, or how much. I just thought if I could replace at least some of them, that would buy us some time and Porter would be able to live.”
He inhaled, coming to the last chapter. “It turns out that the person I bought the drugs from was an undercover cop. They thought I was dealing. They thought I was an addict and a loser, and they locked me up. I lied to the detectives and told them that I was involved in the black market. I pointed the finger at the guys who were threatening to kill Porter. They went down and got life in prison. I got one year because I cooperated, and I got six months off for good behavior.”
I nodded, feeling all the pieces click into place with satisfying finality. Mike had been framed. Or he had framed himself, but he had done it for good reason. He wasn’t a criminal but an incredible friend who was willing to abandon his own future to save the life of a person he had once cared for. Not only did I understand, but my heart was awash with a love I had never felt for anyone before. Mike was too good for me.