Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
My mood goes from bad to worse, and I wish Jason still worked here so I could beat the shit out of someone without anyone caring.
I really should’ve just gotten back into bed with Felix.
“I was sick,” I say, because I have to give them something or they’ll just keep bugging me and end up pissing me off. “It wasn’t a big deal, all right? And I’m here today, so whatever.”
Miguel looks from Hector back to me. “Are you okay, Jake?”
“I’m fine.”
“Because if you’re not okay—”
“I just fucking said I’m fine!” I snap, glaring at Miguel and then passing that glare onto Hector when he looks ready to open his mouth. “Jesus Christ. Is it a fucking crime to be sick? I missed one day. Fucking get off my nuts.”
I stalk away with my hands clenched, hoping that’ll stop them from shaking and knowing it won’t, because they’ve been like this since last night.
And my breath catches when I realize what that means.
“You’re fine, you’re fine,” I tell myself as I duck under the partially open bay door and move into the shop so I can get to the bathroom.
I’ll probably feel better once I splash some cold water on my face.
My skin feels tight and hot, and I push up my sleeve as I walk and stare at Felix’s promise. I hear him say it inside my head.
“Hey, Jake! Can I see you for a minute?” Reed calls out from his office that’s right off the shop floor.
I stop walking and curse and shove my sleeve back down.
It was ten fucking minutes. He better not bitch me out for being late once.
“Yeah,” I mumble, and I stop in the doorway and stuff my hands into the pocket of my hoodie and bite my tongue so I don’t dare him to fire me.
Reed takes a seat on the corner of the desk. “Listen.”
I feel my pulse jump as blood rushes in my ears, and I make out every other word of this bullshit excuse for laying me off today.
Jobs done.
Not enough work.
Last in. First out.
“I’ll call you when things pick up again. You’re a good worker, Jake.”
I smirk and cock my head. “This has to do with my brother, doesn’t it? I know it does.”
“No.”
“Did CJ tell you to fire me since he’s a fucking asshole now?”
Reed studies me, and I swear if he asks me anything about my sobriety, I’m knocking his teeth out.
“This has nothing to do with CJ,” he says, and wow, he’s a terrific liar. “It has to do with the reasons I just gave you. There’s just not enough work right now, Jake. I’m sorry. This isn’t personal.”
“Right. Sure it isn’t.”
I reach back and squeeze the tension that’s throbbing in my neck as my eyes sting with the threat of tears.
And I’ll kill myself before letting CJ’s fucking brother-in-law see me cry, because they’re family and I’m not.
So, fuck him.
“Listen—”
“I get it, man. It’s cool,” I say, laughing a little. “I mean, it’s not, but I just don’t care. Sorry.”
Reed’s brows lift.
“Look. Don’t bother calling me. This job’s a fucking joke. You gotta know that. And when you call my brother up after I leave, tell him I said to go fuck himself.”
I flip Reed off with both hands and back out of the room.
“Hey, Jake!” he shouts after me. “Jake!”
I’m halfway across the gravel lot when I feel wetness on my cheeks, and Miguel and Hector are calling out for me now and asking me where I’m going, but I can’t tell them because I don’t fucking know.
Felix is sleeping and needs to stay that way, and if I show up, he’ll question what I’m doing there and stay awake worrying even more about me, and I can’t let him do that. I can’t.
So now what. Where do I go. Who can I go to. I don’t have anyone.
I’m jobless and homeless (practically), and I’m basically friendless now too.
I’ll probably never see Miguel or Hector ever again. It’s not like we’re going to be working together anymore. And besides, I bitched at them for no fucking reason and I’m currently ignoring their calls as Miguel’s name flashes across my screen, because I hit ignore and then power off my phone so I can concentrate on driving and peeling out of the lot without hitting anything and not stopping.
I can’t stop. I can’t.
I can’t call my boyfriend.
I can’t call my brother.
The only thing I can do, I shouldn’t.
But there’s nothing else. Fuck, there’s nothing.
The sun still isn’t up, and every addict knows the most wonderful things happen between dusk and dawn.
We’ll be okay
The words burn on my arm as I drive.
And I never should’ve moved here, because Ruxton, Alabama, has twenty-four-hour liquor stores and dealers who never sleep.
I’m sitting in my car, parked, with the keys in my hand, but I don’t get out, because I know I shouldn’t.