Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Aidan stuffs his feet into his Adidas slides and we begin to make the journey back to the trailer. He’s a little unsteady on his legs, and the moonlight isn’t as bright as it was ten minutes ago, the moon half hidden behind a cloud, so I take his arm and sling it around my neck.
“You’re a good bird,” I hear him mumble.
On the way back, we almost walk into Shane.
“Nice of you to join us,” I spit out.
He blinks, expression hard to read because I’m tired and it’s dark. “I was––”
“Save it. Here, take him.”
Shane takes Aidan’s arm from around my neck, and without a word, guides him away.
“Night, Tweetie,” I think I hear Aidan say. Which is a weird ending to an even weirder night. Then again, I’m starting to acclimate to weirdness.
The following morning, I drag my limp body down to the kitchen at six. I’m barely standing. I haven’t even taken a shower because I’m already running behind. My hair’s a ratted mess, sticking up in places it should never stick up. I didn’t have time to run a brush through it, let alone wash it, and with my natural wave, it doesn’t take much to make me look like a lunatic. I have ghoulish dark circles under my eyes. And I’m not even quite sure what I’m wearing because I never bothered to check as I got dressed.
You know who doesn’t look like a walking disaster? Mona. Her makeup is perfectly applied, and her black hair perfectly blown. Dear, dear, dear Mona.
She’s pouring coffee when I step into the kitchen and she’s pouring it in a mug for her lover. Meanwhile, Darby is comfortably seated at our kitchen table, glasses on, reading a book like the little lord of the manor. In front of him sits what look like the remains of a full breakfast he recently decimated. Pancakes, eggs, bacon. The works.
Mona finishes pouring and Darby takes her hand and kisses it.
I clear my throat. She glances over at me with a dimpled grin and does a double take. The smile literally melts off of her face. “Oh, sweetie, you look par boiled.”
“You don’t say…” I walk in and sit at the table across from Darby.
“Would you like some coffee?” she asks, all sweet and innocent. “I can make you some eggs and toast the way you like it, with melted butter.”
“Just coffee, thank you. I’m already late.” That said, I swipe Darby’s cold toast and the half-melted butter sitting on the table. Mona slides a fresh cup of roasted hazelnut in front of me and I dump two spoons of sugar in it. Then I slather the toast with a good thick layer of butter and stuff it in my mouth. All the while, Darby watches with concern.
Mona takes a seat at the table, as well. Sipping her coffee, she does the same; watches me devour the toast and suck down the caffeine I need to function.
“Do you bow wha I did lass nigh?” I say to my lovely boss.
“Sweetie, don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s not pretty.”
I swallow and exhale. “Do you know what I did last night?”
“Dug up dead bodies from a graveyard for extra money?”
“No. Take another wild guess.”
“Entertained dirty dreams about Shane Hughes?”
The woman’s power of observation is downright creepy sometimes. “Who says I have a thing for Shane Hughes?”
“You sayin’ you don’t?”
Gosh dang it, I can’t lie to her. It’s beyond my control.
“Moving on. What I was doing last night was trying to talk Aidan Hughes out of the donkey’s drinking water. I found him soaking in it at midnight, drunk, and singing very badly. And you know what he told me…”
“What?” she asks, eyes wide and innocent while the tight purse of her lips suggests otherwise.
“He told me you gave him the alcohol. I thought that was very strange seeing that you know that he cannot have any while he’s here. Is this true? Did you supply a criminal with a substance he cannot have according to the sentencing guidelines?”
“Well… yes and no,” she says, looking not in the least bit guilty.
“Yes and no? I didn’t get enough sleep to decipher this.”
“We gave him some truth serum. Didn’t we, Darb?”
Darby lifts his attention off the book he’s been reading the entire time this conversation has been going on and nods. The two of them smiling at each other like this is all perfectly normal stuff.
“Truth serum?” I have no other choice but to go with it.
“Huh-hum.” She nods. “That’s what my mamma called whiskey.”
“Whiskey. You gave him whiskey?”
“He came over while Darby and I were playing cards out on the patio. So we invited him to join us in a few hands and he did. That boy looked so darn upset we gave him a little of Darby’s stash––so he could get whatever’s ailing him off his chest––truth serum like my mamma called it. And he started talking about how he loves his brother but––”