Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I veered off into a yard, plowing through a village of garden gnomes. Colorful shards of pottery flew into the air.
“Seriously, Bell. That’s bad aim?”
“Shut up and drive, you dick.”
After flattening an inflatable Wal-E-Mart pool, I fishtailed it onto the two-lane highway that ran through Dayton and opened the old car up. What could be better than barreling down a deserted country road at eleven o’clock at night in a candy-apple red Z28 with a massive decal spelling out “Screamin’ Demon” across the windshield?
Aside from having Lola’s warm lips wrapped around my cock while I was doing it? Not a damn thing.
Bellamy socked me in the shoulder. “This is why you can’t drive.”
“Can’t drive?” I snorted, then put the car into fourth gear and laid on the accelerator. “Looks like driving to me, cocksucker.”
Huffing, he shook his head. “We’re going to jail.”
“Eventually.” Nothing was more certain in Dayton than death and jail time.
Tires squealed when I hooked it around a hairpin turn, and Bellamy, like the little, scared-of-getting-shot-at diva he was, held onto the oh-shit handle.
The car fishtailed just as an entire police department’s-worth of flashing red and blue lights appeared in the distance. Right where Tony’s garage was.
I let off the gas, watching as Wolf cut into the 7-11 parking lot. “Oh, fuckballs, man. Maybe we are going to jail.”
Police were everywhere, and I was in the driver’s seat of a stolen car. Jerking the wheel, I took a hard turn into the unlit Catfish Cabin lot and spun the car around with a squeal of tires. I jumped out like the damn thing was seconds away from going up in a ball of fire, then took off.
Bellamy’s footsteps pounded the pavement behind me. “You left it running!”
“No shit.” I hurtled over a dead bush, then booked it across the highway to the gas station, climbing into Wolf’s idling truck.
“Dude…” He leaned over the wheel a little more, staring in the direction of the garage. “I hope to hell Tony wasn’t the one who got busted.”
“Who else would it be?”
“A police chase? A drug bust? It’s Dayton.”
And any of those options were a helluva lot better for us. If it was Tony, my skint ass would be down to bare bones.
Bellamy clamored into the extended cab, completely out of breath when he slammed the door. “Damn, Hendrix. You can run.”
“Of course, I can. How the hell do you think I got away with jacking shit from Wal-E-Mart for so long? If you can’t outrun a security guard on one of those high-powered scooters, orange is going to be your new black.”
A fleet of cop cars zoomed past on the highway, sirens blaring as they screeched to a stop in front of Tony’s.
Wolf put the truck in drive. “We should probably get out of here…”
My adrenaline was still up when Wolf dropped me at my house. Wouldn’t that have been some shit. Me getting put in the slammer for grand theft auto a month before my brother got out for the very same thing?
I went inside and turned on the living room light, stopping halfway past the couch. A fresh hole decorated the wall above the TV, and my cracked game controller lay on the floor. “What the…”
“I got your Taco Casa.”
Lola stepped out from the kitchen, holding up a paper Taco Casa bag. With a smile, she kicked the trash can over the threshold, flipped the lid, and dumped the bag inside.
“What the hell!” I grabbed both sides of my head at the pure sacrilege. There was a lot of crap food someone could throw away. Taco Casa was not one of them. “Are you crazy?”
She stared me right in the eye, that insane batshit, Medusa rage flickering to life. “I ate all your Pop-Tarts, too.” She flipped me off. “I hope you starve.”
I felt my brow wrinkle, my eye twitch. “Why would you do that?”
“Why would you fuck me the same night you banged Virginia Ford?”
Where in the hell was she coming up with this crap?
“I didn’t fuck anyone last night except you!” I took a step toward her, my annoyance at the situation and ruined Taco Casa quickly escalating.
“You didn’t even have time to change the damn sheets.”
“What are you not listening to?” I used hand signals like an air traffic controller waving down a 747 to emphasize my frustration, punctuating each word when I said, “I didn’t fuck anyone last night.”
“I saw her hair clip in your room, Hendrix.” She took a step into the living room. “She turned up for a repeat this afternoon.”
The fact she felt entitled to be pissed over a non-existent encounter she thought I’d had when we weren’t even together—after she had cheated on me—was gas to an already lit fire.
I’d told her twice I hadn’t slept with the girl, but if she didn’t want to listen. If she wanted to let that psycho rage of hers billow, well then, I’d give it enough wind to burn shit down. “Already told you in Brown’s office. I don’t do repeats.” I cocked a grin I knew screamed arrogant smartass.