Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“See, you came. I told you I’d make you feel good,” a deep baritone booms while I heave onto the carpet.
“See? He’s out. We can do whatever the fuck we want. Take off his pants.”
“Don’t clench up, boy. Or do. I like it when your asshole puckers. Makes it so tight for me,” a man’s deep voice rumbles in my ear from behind as he surges inside of me.
That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. I’ve had enough. Of the memories. Of this. Of everything.
The heat of the night air through the window does nothing to cool my hot body.
And then, out of nowhere, I remember Poe and her sad eyes, and falling, falling, falling.
Apparently, the horrible memories aren’t limited to sex.
My throat dries, and I feel as if I’m choking on sand. I can’t catch my fucking breath.
I leap off the bed and tug on my pants. I didn’t even come before I freaked out this time.
This is a new low, even for me.
“Where are you going?” she asks, but I don’t answer. I can’t.
It isn’t until I’m in the courtyard of the shitty apartment I share with Pike that I rest my hands on my knees and can finally take a much-needed deep breath, the humidity opening my lungs until I’m calm enough to think straight.
“You okay?” Pike asks, stepping out into the courtyard. When the cops viewed the surveillance video and cleared me of any wrongdoing that night on the bridge, I was on my way out of the station just as they were dragging Pike in on some small narcotics charge. I’ve been crashing with him here in Logan’s Beach ever since he made bail.
“I’m fine,” I answer, pushing off my knees to stand. I fish my smokes from the back pocket of my jeans.
“What did you do to piss off that girl?” he asks, with a smile. “She didn’t seem happy.”
“The usual, I guess,” I answer, trying to play it off with a shrug.
My phone buzzes.
It’s a text from Fred.
Fred and Meryl are the closest thing I have to friends, besides Pike. Meryl is a grey-haired, proper-sounding, southern man who does something involving politics down in Miami. His boyfriend, Fred, who is at least a decade younger, does…well, Meryl.
The text says to come over. They’ve got food on the grill. He asks me to pick up smokes on the way and bring some weed. I don’t hesitate. I need the distraction, and those two are good at providing it. Plus, they party harder than guys my age, and they can afford the better drugs and always have a decent supply on hand.
“It’s Fred,” I tell Pike. “You wanna come with?”
“Got a meeting with a new supplier. I’ll text you when I’m done and see where you’re at.” He raises an eyebrow. “You sure you’re okay, brother?”
“Yeah, man.”
Pike gives me a slap on the back and heads out.
Fred and Meryl’s contemporary, modern home is completely out of place amongst the many rows of small dilapidated shacks. As I always do, I let myself in without knocking. They wouldn’t hear me anyway. They’re always out on the back deck, smokin’, drinking’, or eatin’. Which is probably the only three things we have in common, but it’s enough. They’re good guys, and I could use a distraction right about now.
From the kitchen, I see the steam from the hot tub outside rising past the window. I push open the sliders and step out onto the deck, rummaging through the shopping bag from the Quick Stop. I don’t have to look up to know they’re in the hot tub, the sound of the bubbles and the smell of the chlorine has already given that away.
“Pops,” I say, because that’s what I call Meryl. I pull the pack of smokes from the bag, “they didn’t have the kind you wanted. But they had this other brand with the state of Florida on it. It’s slim pickings in the stores in this po-dunk town, so you’ll have to deal with the cigarettes I could find. Fred, do you guys have any...” I trail off when I look up to see that Fred and Meryl are, in fact, in the hot tub as predicted, but they aren’t alone. Two strangers are in there with them. A very hot brunette woman in her twenties with bright red lips and there is a guy next to her, but I can’t make out his face through the steam.
I don’t notice the uniformed police officer until he steps up onto the deck and clears his throat.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
“Hey kid,” the officer calls to me. My head snaps to his.
“Fuck,” I hear Fred mutter.
The officer puffs out his chest. “You been here all day?”
“Fuck,” the guy I don’t know echoes Fred.
I glance to Fred for a quick second, hoping I can read his eyes, and I hope the look he’s giving me right now is go with it because that’s what I do.