Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Her eyes darted to the chair, but she didn’t move.
“Sit down,” I repeated. “It’s not a suggestion,” I warned. She came forward, hesitantly. I pushed in her chair with a little more force than necessary, pushing her legs out from under her, causing her ass to plunk down hard onto the seat. I leaned over her shoulder. “Now was that so hard?” I whispered against her neck. Her shiver gave me a deep satisfaction I felt all the way down to my toes.
I made my way back over to the stove and looked over the sad stack of six, lopsided, half-burnt pancakes that looked more like the sad survivors of the pancake apocalypse than breakfast.
I took off Mirna’s “Kiss the cock” apron that used to say “Kiss the cook” but with one little swipe of a permanent marker, I had made it way more my speed. I set the stack of zombie pancakes in the center of the table and took the seat next to Dre. I placed a small stack in front of her and the rest I took for myself, pouring syrup over both plates. “Okay, now we can talk,” I announced, taking a bite of what tasted more like baking powder and foot than fluffy delicious pancakes.
“You want to know why you’re here? Right? You’re here because one of your buddies decided to dose you full of heroin, drag you across the parking lot into some shit bag motel, and play hide the salami while you drooled all over yourself.” I turned my head and opened my mouth to mimic her facial expression.
She winced.
“Truth fucking hurts, Doc.” I shoved more of the awful tasting pancakes in my mouth, and I knew exactly what they tasted like. Failure.
“Doc?” She wrinkled her nose.
“Yeah, like Dr. Dre. Remember? Or do we have to start at the beginning again? Okay, lets do this. I’m Samuel Clearwater, my friends call me Preppy.”
“I remember,” she said, her pancakes remaining untouched.
“Anyway, saw what was happening and went and…retrieved you. Brought you back to Mirna’s ’cause she’s a nurse. Even when she’s a little out of it, she still remembers her training. Didn’t know you were her granddaughter,” I said, speaking with my mouth full. If I didn’t hate wasting food so much I’d have spit it out, but instead I swallowed hard and chugged my orange juice.
“You could have just left me there,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, I could of.”
“Why didn’t you?”
I stabbed my fork into another piece. I held it up and examined the food on my fork. I glanced up at Dre’s doll-like eyes that were as black as her hair. “I have no fucking clue.”
“Why didn’t you take me to a hospital?”
“Hospitals tend to ask a fuck of a lot of questions when you bring in a girl who’s doped up on H.”
“Why would questions be a bad thing when you’re the one who saved me.”
“Because, Doc, questions lead to answers, and in this case, answers lead to bodies.” She gasped.
“Shit.” Her face paled.
“There’s that realization I was waiting for. I was wondering when that would happen. Took you long enough. But I’ll chalk up your slow reaction time to just waking up from a semi-coma. Remind me not to challenge you to a game of sudoku anytime soon.”
“Bodies?” she asked slowly, standing from the chair. I grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her back down.
“Well, body,” I corrected, “Just one, though. But you know, bodies sound better for dramatic effect and all that.” I took another gulp of juice. “So let’s just say that one of them is no longer available for shooting up in a dark alley, beating you to a pulp, stealing my plants, or long walks on the beach.” I set down the glass. “In the words of the oh-so-wise Taylor Swift,” I leaned across the table. “‘Never ever. Like ever.’”
“Eric? You killed Eric?” she asked, and I knew she was confirming that it wasn’t Conner, whatever false sense of loyalty she had toward the motherfucker was really pissing me off. Until I realized that was exactly who I’d killed.
Oops.
“Yep, it was totally Eric,” I agreed, shoving more pancakes into my mouth and trying not to gag.
“So he’s…”
“Dead? Oh yeah. Very dead.”
There was nothing readable about Dre’s expression, which was disappointing. I was looking forward to seeing her afraid. After all, I’d just admitted that I’d made good on my threat and had killed someone she knew, albeit not the person she’d wanted me to kill, but she didn’t know that.
To-ma-to, to-mah-to.
She was more out of it than I’d originally thought. “You killed him,” she said, slowly. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.
I held up my index finger and my thumb, slowly closing the gap between them, peering over at Dre through the tiny slit that remained. “Little bit.”