Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Growing up Grace had always told me that you can be a bad boy and still be a good man. I think I was finally understanding what that meant.
Jake turned on a hose and started to wash out the interior of the trailer. Red tinged water sloshed into the drain and over the back of the truck in a mini bloody waterfall. He whistled-as-he-worked like a fucked up eighth dwarf.
Kevin’s cheeks turned pink and then red, straining under the weight of the cooler as I helped take it over to the van and set it inside on garbage bags I’d already had laid out.
I slid the door shut. “Now what?” Kevin asked.
I smiled. “Now? Now we have some fucking fun.”
Twenty minutes later we were on Billy’s old airboat, flying through the swamp. I switched my theme song from “Leave the Pieces” to “Piece of Me” by Britney Spears.
I had a little bit of a theme going on that day.
We stopped at my favorite spot. Well, my favorite spot for the kind of activity we were doing. It was a clearing next to a sand bar behind a wall of trees where the swamp met the river. Right behind an island King and I had dubbed Motherfucker Island back when we were kids.
Kevin was helping me feed pieces of whoever had been in the bag (The MC’s deal, not mine) to the alligators surrounding the boat. “Well, kid. You wanted in,” I said. “Now you’re in.”
Kevin sent a chunk of what I think was a knee sailing into the brush. A splash of commotion erupted as the gators fought over their dinner of human flesh and cartilage. Kevin laughed and set his feet on the edge of the airboat. The sun began to set. “Thanks, Preppy,” he said, wiping his hands on his shorts.
I nodded and tipped over the cooler, letting any excess blood drip into the water. I set it back down and clapped a hand over Kevin’s shoulder. I smiled brightly. “Welcome to the motherfucking family business, kid.”
“Speaking of family,” I said. “We haven’t exactly got around to talking about that. You ever gonna tell me how exactly you think I’m your brother?”
“Not much to tell,” Kevin said, sitting on the edge of the boat with his back to the gator infested waters. “I was born up North. A little town outside Daytona to the same woman who pushed you out.”
“So she told you about me?” I asked. “‘Cause I find it hard to believe that the woman who left me behind like a couch she didn’t want to bother moving actually spoke my name after she bolted.”
Kevin shook his head. “Nah, never uttered a word about you. I actually don’t remember her speaking at all. A cop found me wandering around the highway in my diaper when I was just a toddler. They handed me over to social services. I grew up in the system.”
“Believe it or not that makes you the luckier one of the two of us,” I said.
Kevin blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. He paused his beer inches from his lips. “Sure, if you call getting beat by your foster parents lucky. Or not getting fed because I wasn’t one of their ‘real kids’ or maybe lucky was that time I was so desperate I let a trucker jack me off outside of a diner in exchange for a hot meal.”
I felt for the kid. I really did but I couldn’t help the way my thoughts worked or the burst of laughter that bubbled up and erupted from my mouth.
“You think that’s fucking funny?” Kevin said, standing up and rocking the boat from one side to the other.
“Yeah, actually I do.”
“Why?” Kevin asked, looking horrified and extremely pissed off. His fists balled at his sides.
“Sit down,” I ordered. Kevin huffed as he took a seat, his arms crossed protectively over his chest.
I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. “You want to know why I think it’s funny?” I asked, no trace of jokes for this conversation.
“Enlighten me,” Kevin snapped.
“Because I would have killed to trade places with you. You think getting a handy from a trucker is a bad deal? Please, I’d trade a dozen fucking truckers jerking my dick.” I leaned in closer. “Anything would have been better than getting raped by your stepdad. Better than being left behind like unwanted furniture when your mom moves and leaves you alone with a fucking pedophile.”
Kevin’s mouth opened and then shut. He scratched at his unruly head of hair. “So what happened to the stepdad.”
“He died in a tragic on-purpose accident.”
“You killed him?”
“King did,” I said. I stood and pointed to the gators encircling the boat. “First notch on his gun belt. That’s how we first found out about this spot.”