Total pages in book: 196
Estimated words: 180438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 902(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 601(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 180438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 902(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 601(@300wpm)
All my daughters are tiny; at least my boys got my height, which is good, because one Napoleon complex is more than enough for me to deal with, and Mengele has that shit down to an art. She hissed at me and then flounced her miserable ass out the door, leaving me with the Alfredo Balli Trevino twins.
“You boys having fun? Why are you so heavy?” Dafuq did I do starting a conversation with these two? They both started babbling away at me like I understood a word they were saying. Then they started some kind of tug of war, wrapping their legs and arms around each other like maniacs.
Kat’s ringer came through the door next, and my guts headed south. Speaking of knowing what someone is up to, I’ve made it my life’s mission to know Mengele’s tells, and from the looks of it, she was up to some nefarious shit. The way she eyed the twins, I knew they were at the end of whatever dafuq this was.
“What is it that you want, Catalina?” It’s always good to start off pleasant with this one. If I start off calling her Mengele, she’d know that I was on to her and up the ante on her shit. She eyed my lap where the twins were and sighed like she had the world on her shoulders. That’s usually her spot when she wants to con me out of something.
“Daddy! Can I have the twins for a minute? Just a minute.” Now, that made my nuts crawl into my guts.
“What do you want with them?” The triplets had barely made it out alive now that they were old enough to fend her off, but it was a rough couple of years getting her to leave them the hell alone. These two poor things, as big as they are, are no match for Mengele.
“Mengele, what the hell do you want with my kids?”
“It’s nothing bad, Daddy, promise. I’ve been working on something; I’m testing the differences between the twins and Grandpa.”
“The pothead? You can’t use him as any kind of measuring stick; he’s stocked full of that shit you two grow in the backyard.” Oh, right, Mancini did mention that she was working on something called Methuselah, something or the other. I’d better change the subject quickly because she was getting that glassy look in her eyes that meant trouble, and quite frankly, if it came down to it, I’ll let her have them because I’m not in the mood to deal with her crazy shit.
“By the way, what are you and Russo doing with that Janie person?”
“Oh her, don’t worry, Daddy, I won’t kill her.”
“What?” Now, some fathers dealing with their ten-year-old daughter would think that was said in jest, but I know my kid, and she was dead serious as if death had been one of the options she’d considered. What dafuq did Kat do with this kid?
***
*Janie*
“Where are you taking me?” Nothing! This new guy was younger than the other two, but somehow, he seemed even more reserved than they were. He ignored me, too, but whatever, anything was better than being stuck in that car listening to Ryder profess his undying love for that bitch over and over again.
I’d just spent the last half hour in hell; there was no other way to put it. I knew he hated me; I had heard it loud and clear when he did that press conference and told the whole world that the only reason he’d been with me was because he’d been tricked. But being privy to their private conversation was another kind of hell. I know him, for all that he never took the time to get to know me, and I knew that he was being genuine with her.
The pain that caused was unlike anything I’ve ever endured, even the years of his neglect and disdain, and I don’t think I would ever get over it. I felt deflated, lifeless, like I no longer cared about anything and never will again. I’d screamed myself hoarse, but they wouldn’t turn it off, and even after I passed out from exertion and came awake again, it was still playing like it was on some kind of loop.
Not for the first time in the last couple of days, I felt inhuman. Like a piece of nothing that no one cared about. That, coupled with the withdrawals I was battling, played hell on my mind, and I gave serious thought to opening the car door and throwing myself out into traffic just to put an end to it all.
When they passed me off to this guy, I didn’t think much of it; there wasn’t anything I could do anyway, even if I wanted to resist. Besides, the sight of the plane gave me a little bit of hope, more than I’d had in the last few days.