Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
She purses her high gloss Mary Kay pink lips, which look plumper than the last time I saw her.
“Stop it, young lady. Larry is our ticket.” She points at my chest then back at hers. “This is what I’ve been trying to find since—”
I still her with my eyes and she shakes her head, swiping her hand in the air between us.
Jesus, my mom is a handful. But, I do love her. She left my father when I was thirteen, looking for greener—and I mean, the color of money greener—pastures. Her obsession with happiness being attached to some suburban other-side-of-town ideal wasn’t fulfilled by living in a comfortable enough two story with one bathroom and a husband that worked his ass off everyday.
I remember reading The Great Gatsby in Literature and I saw so much of my recognized so much of mom in Myrtle Wilson. Her husband worked hard, tried to provide, but in the end, it was her desperate pursuit of wealth and the happiness she associated it with that left her laying in the street with one breast half torn off.
“Lula!” Mom grabs the top of my head and angles my eyes upward. “You aren’t listening.”
“What?”
“I’m going to the lady’s room. I want to make sure I look my best when Larry comes back out. I know he’s going to make the big announcement to everyone, and I don’t want to be a mess. You wanna come with?”
Her sandy blonde hair is in perfect beach waves. Make up looking like it was applied by a Hollywood set artist.
“Ahhh, no.” I shake my head, thinking about the sticky table in front of me and the stickier carpet under my feet. Risking the bathroom unless I’m desperate is a hard pass for me. “I’m good.”
“Suit yourself. Just, be ready to smile and get off that darn Tok thing. Once I get settled in as Mrs. Larry Nelson you never know, maybe he knows people. This singing thing of yours…” She toddles off again as the milkshake song ends and Crystal gives her final, indifferent, spread eagle closing move. “It’s probably not going to go anywhere, but you know I do whatever I can for my Lula Belle.”
A wave of relief loosens my shoulder muscles as she steps away only to return as she spins back around, eyes lighting up. She trip-stumbles two steps back and leans down in that whispery, this is critical intel, sort of voice she likes to use when something is important to her.
“I didn’t even tell you. You’ve got a stepbrother.”
CHAPTER 2
Lula
Oh Jesus. I dig in my bag for the little blue capsules, mumbling, “Hooray. Being an only child is lonely.”
“Lula.” She snaps. “I’ve not met him, but from the little Larry says, he’s…well, the apple doesn’t fall far I guess. I think his name is Whiskey or…” She squints at the ceiling, her eyes widening like a bell chimed between her ears. “No! Scotch. Isn’t that clever?”
I nod, wondering what fresh hell is simmering in Satan’s caldron for me next. “Sounds charming.”
“He’s ruthless. Like Larry. A man’s man. Oh, and maybe he did some time for something. Assault?” She flutters her hand again and stands, turning back towards the lady’s room. “Anyway, like I said, I want us to be a family. So when he gets here, you two should try to bond. Larry said he’ll be here, but probably late. He runs several businesses.”
She leaves that last part hanging like some brass ring as she walks away. A new song and a new introduction to a young lady that can barely stand vibrates through the sour air.
Deciding there might be a song to be written from this experience, I glance around settling my eyes on the long bar in the back.
The way my nipples pebble, they see what I see. Through the throng of bare asses and married men waving dollar bills, holy shit.
I swallow hard as my eyes latch on to the masterpiece standing at the bar.
My pulse ticks in my ears, which is wild because although I have a distant admiration for the male form and the potential attractiveness they possess, this has never happened.
I curl my toes inside the new-to-me chunky black heeled Michael Kors boots I scored at my favorite thrift shop. There’s a squeezing down in my core that is also new to me, as I battle back the saliva gathering under my tongue.
I take a long moment and just ravage James Dean-2023 throwing back a shot with my eyes.
He’s talking to a guy in a suit, neither of them showing the least bit of interest in the practically naked girls. They’re close to the same age and stand eye to eye. Both are, I guess, what I would have previously described as attractive, but, holy ever-lasting-gob-stoppers, the one with that scruff along his graphite looking jawbone and perfectly out of control hair is making my belly burn and my lady nips tingle.