Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“He was paid to rescue your brother?”
Nine shakes his head. “Nope. He was there. Saw Preppy was in trouble. Put the breaks on the whole thing.”
“Really,” I say, drawing out the word. “Smoke has friends? Well, I’ve met Rage and Zelda, but I kind of imagined them to be it.”
“I probably shouldn’t be answering that. Or anything.”
“How does answering that affect me or you watching me in any way? How can I use that against Smoke or better yet how can I possibly use that information to escape?” I raise my leg and set my foot on the counter, pointing to my ankle. “I’ve got a bomb on my leg. Remember?”
Nine sighs. “Fine. Yes, Smoke has friends. Or at least, he has people in his corner. That’s what I get when people talk about him anyway. He’s a legend over in Logan’s Beach. The people I know are loyal to him because over the years he’s been loyal to them. But he’s a loner. That’s pretty much all I know.”
I rest my chin on my fist. “Interesting. He makes it seem like he puts mountains between him and the rest of the world.”
Nine laughs and leans forward with his elbows on the counter. “He does. The thing is, my people, our mutual friends? They’re really fucking good climbers.”
I laugh and taste the sauce on the spoon he’s holding out to me. It’s so spicy I cough and choke. “How much red pepper flake did you put in there?” I ask, my mouth hanging open.
Nine hands me a glass of water and I chug it so fast most of it spills down the corners of my mouth onto my shirt. When I’m done, I hand my glass out to Nine who refills it. My eyes are burning. My throat is seizing up. I chug the next one down just as fast.
“Uh, this much?” Nine holds up the now empty bottle of dried red pepper flake that was full only a few minutes before.
“That might be a tad too much,” I rasp.
Nine takes a big mouthful of the sauce and swallows it down. I wait for him to react, but he shrugs and keeps stirring. “Tastes all right to me,” he says, smacking his lips.
“Back to Smoke,” I say when I’m not about to die via red pepper flake poisoning.
“Smoke’s a lone wolf, but that don’t mean others ain’t got his back. Who knows, he’s probably just still messed up with all that shit from Rage,” Nine says. His eyes go wide, and I see his regret. He’s revealed too much.
“Uh, forget I said anything.” he turns his back to me to stir his nuclear sauce. “Why do you want my laptop anyway?” he asks, changing the subject.
“I just want to look something up. A name. It will only take a minute, and you can watch the entire time,” I assure him, knowing there’s no way he’ll actually let me use it. I wait for the idea to form, watching his face as he’s deep in thought.
Nine puts down the spoon and scratches the back of his neck. I flash him yet another hopeful grin.
“Okay, here’s the deal.” He points to me and then to himself. “You tell me the name, and I’ll look it up for you and tell you what I find.”
Bingo.
“Deal,” I say, holding out my hand.
Nine comes over and shakes my hand. He doesn’t let go. He smiles and talks between his bright teeth. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
I don’t stop smiling either, talking through my own teeth. “Probably.”
Nine fires up his laptop. It’s top of the line and covered in stickers of rock bands and pot leafs. His desktop image is a pair of naked breasts.
“Classy,” I sing.
“Who doesn’t like tits?” Nine asks, keying in his passcode. “Everyone likes tits. Even women.”
“Is this some sort of lead into a conversation about how all women are hiding an inner lesbian?”
“That would be cool, but no. You know all those popular women’s magazines? You won’t find too many pictures of men. Why? Because women like to look at women. Women are beautiful. Their bodies are beautiful. Even most porn catering to women don’t have gigantic dongs swinging about. They’re useful, but they ain’t shit to look at. Unless, it’s mine, of course.
“Uh, huh.”
He cracks his knuckles. “All right, Frankie girl. What’s the name?”
I tell him the name from the ultrasound I found in Smoke’s cut. Nine begins his search.
A few minutes later, we both realize that Morgan Faith Clark is an enigma. She disappeared off the face of the planet last year. Nine can’t find anything else about her. “That’s odd. No missing person’s report. No nothing. As of last year, she just…vanished.”
“What about her address? Do we know where she lived?” I ask, leaning over Nine’s shoulder.