Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Then again, if he’d thought of that before breaking into homes to steal flat-screen TVs, maybe he wouldn’t be that twenty-six-year-old loser who’s still sponging off Mommy, would he?
I make my move to get up, but Mom puts a hand on my wrist. “Honey, I need a favor. Would you have five hundred dollars you could invest in our business?”
“Invest,” I repeat stupidly. That’s a word you’d use for a nice little mutual fund, maybe. Giving your money to Mom and Joe would be as productive as lighting it on fire.
No, less productive. At least you could roast a marshmallow over the fire.
“Just a loan,” she says. “We have startup costs. We need an extension ladder, and we need to place an ad in the newspaper.”
“Wouldn’t an online ad be cheaper?” I ask before I can stop myself. Business is interesting to me. But I can’t offer to help this sad little venture. I will not be sucked into their issues.
There are so many of those.
“Maybe!” Mom says, gripping my wrist. It’s probably obvious how badly I need to get away.
“I don’t have any extra cash right now,” I say, hopefully ending the conversation. “I’d love to help, but I can’t.”
She blinks at me. And then blinks some more. It’s time for another performance of guilt and tears.
“I owe my fraternity seven hundred bucks on Friday,” I tell her, which is the truth. “And I still need to eat and buy gas for my bike…” I sigh.
“Just this once,” she begs. “Please think about it.”
“Oh, I will.” That comes out sounding darker than I meant it to. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The truth is that if I pick up more extra shifts behind the bar next week, I could loan her the money. But I’ve loaned her money before, and she never pays it back.
Why is that okay? Like, seriously. If she just said it had to be a gift, not a loan, I wouldn’t feel so used when she asks me for money.
I escape to the garage in peace. If I have any luck at all, the rattle my bike is making is just a loose chain. I find my torque wrench and kneel down on the garage floor for a better look.
Sure enough, the tension is off a little. I can do this.
Or maybe I can’t. You need someone’s weight on the bike to get the tension right. Maybe there’s a workaround? I pull out my phone to Google for a solution. Honestly, balancing some bricks on the bike would be easier than asking a family member.
There’s a new message on Kink, so I open it up, because I have no self control. LobsterShorts and I continued to text each other this week. He’s fun to talk to. Our chats always start off random before inevitably turning to sex.
It’s a pattern, I think. Lobster is attracted to me, and probably men in general. But he feels guilty about it. Every time I get him riled up, he disappears for a day or so. Then he always comes back.
LobsterShorts: Today’s animal behavior tidbit is about kangaroos.
There’s a link, so I click it. The screen loads with a video of a kangaroo, all right. And he’s…
Really?
SinnerThree: Is that kangaroo jacking off?
His response comes so quickly that I know he’s been waiting there for me.
LobsterShorts: Of course he is. Did you really think that humans would be the only ones to discover that you can polish your own pole?
SinnerThree: I guess I’ve seen a dog lick his balls. But I thought you needed opposable thumbs to really get freaky.
LobsterShorts: Dolphins will hump an inanimate object. Or occasionally a diver.
SinnerThree: OMG. Humped by a dolphin? GTFO.
I’m sitting on the garage floor cracking up.
LobsterShorts: Lots of primates masturbate, including the females. Bats even jerk it while hanging upside down. And yes, it gets messy.
I’m dead.
“What’s so funny?”
I look up fast as my brother comes around the corner. “Nothing,” I say, hastily texting back. GTG, asshole brother is in my face. Shoving my phone into my pocket, I stand up.
“Look, about the money,” Joe starts.
“That’s what you want to talk to me about? Quelle surprise.” It makes him nutty whenever I remind him that I’m studying French. Or that I’m good at anything, really.
“Look,” he says, not taking the bait. “I got a better idea.”
I can’t wait to hear this.
“You live in that fraternity house, with all those rich kids? All we need is one computer, Lukey. Just one will be worth more than the five hundred bucks that Ma wants.”
My blood pressure quadruples in the span of two seconds. “That’s the worst idea you’ve ever had. All laptops have that app now—find my stuff. The cops would pull up outside your door an hour later. Do you really want to go back to jail?”