Total pages in book: 13
Estimated words: 12348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 62(@200wpm)___ 49(@250wpm)___ 41(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 12348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 62(@200wpm)___ 49(@250wpm)___ 41(@300wpm)
“I-I’ll have a large coffee, black,” a deep but wavering voice says. I look up and see a hot bearded man, looking anywhere but at me.
“Hi. Your name?” I ask, pulling a large paper cup off of the stack, my hot pink sharpie at the ready.
“S-sean,” he says, making me smile. I write his name neatly on the cup.
“Oh, great. We’ll be here forever. You wanna speed it up, idiot?” A rude asshole from somewhere behind the giant says. Oh, hell no.
“Billy, let it go.” The big-haired girl with him says after elbowing him in the stomach.
“Just the coffee, t-thanks,” he says.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the asshole says before whispering something I can’t hear to big hair. She laughs. It’s a disgusting, braying laugh.
The giant is going to say something to them, but I’ve had enough. Who do these people think they are? Just because a man has a stutter doesn’t make him any less of a man or an idiot. I get a bit of a temper when people are rude to others for no reason.
“Hey! Keep your mouth shut and wait your turn, asshole,” I shout. The giant locks eyes with me and smiles. For the first time, my lady bits perk up, all but shouting pick me, pick me.
“Don’t talk to my husband like that, big girl,” big-hair yells. Okay, I’m not the smallest girl in the world, and it’s not like I didn’t hear that all through school. It made graduating early the easiest decision I’ve ever made but I didn’t want my giant hearing it. He’s got eyes, but her saying that makes it so much worse. I don’t know why.
“Hey!’ the giant shouts and the air in the room changes, taking on an almost sinister vibe.
“Loralie, you can’t talk to customers like that,” my boss yells, coming out of nowhere. Shit.
“My name is Lorielle,” I say, exasperated. No one ever gets it right.
“I want her fired. She called my husband an asshole,” big-hair says.
“He is an asshole and he’s the one who’s an idiot,” I say without thinking.
“You should keep your counter ogre on a leash,” the rude asshole says and my boss laughs. Mortifying.
“You're fired, whatever your name is,” my boss says once he composes himself. “Collect your things and go out the back.”
“Whatever. I don’t need this job,” I lie. I really do need it.
When I look up again, the giant is gone. It’s probably for the best. I don’t have anything to offer anyone, especially not a well-dressed man like him.
After grabbing my things from the back room, I push open the door to the alleyway. It’s so gross out here. There’s garbage everywhere. The rats think it's an amusement park. I am just about to step over what I pray to God is ketchup, when I hear a car speeding down the alley. I look up just as a really nice SUV slams its brakes on, right in front of me. The screeching sounds it makes is like nails on a chalkboard.
“Watch it, asshole,” I shout, really on a roll today. I turn and start walking in the opposite direction of the car. Seconds later, the world goes dark as something is thrown over my head. My hands are tied in front of me by something plastic. “What the fuck?” My shouts go answered as I kick and scream, but no one can hear me.
One kick connects with something solid. I hear a groan, but the person doesn’t say anything. I have no clue as to who is doing this or why. I struggle for a few seconds more, but then I feel something cold, and metal pressed against my chest. A gun? What have I gotten myself into?
I am placed in the car and feel a seatbelt go over me. Through the head covering, I can smell a thick cologne. It’s like pine and tar, a weird, but a clean-smelling combination. “Where are you taking me?” I ask but get no answer. Soon the car is moving, and I feel myself sinking with the realization that I am in real trouble here.
What is going on? Why is this happening? I run through hundreds of valid questions in my head, but nothing is making sense. I try to struggle some more, but something hard comes down on my head. Just as I am about to lose consciousness, I hear a voice. I don’t recognize it, nor do I know what the man said but it’s the last thing I hear before the nothingness.
THREE
SEAN
Taking her wasn’t an impulse, taking her today was. I swear I just went in for a cup of coffee, to relax a bit. That all changed the second I spoke to her. I knew it would come to this. She’d never want a man like me. I’m too rough, not to mention weird. No girl wants to fuck a killer, let alone marry one. I’ve never wanted anything the way I want her. I tell myself that I took her before someone else got the chance to. She came to my defense in that coffee shop, and I rewarded her by taking her and hiding her in the slaughterhouse right on Passaic River. It was the closest place I could think of. It hasn’t been a true slaughterhouse in a hundred years, but the family uses it for killing those who have wronged us, so the moniker slaughterhouse stuck. I should have taken her to a nice hotel or something, but I’m afraid I won’t get what I want if I take her to a public place. Privacy is better. I knew she was special the moment I saw her. When my stutter resurfaced, I knew she was mine, even if she didn't want to be. I dump her unceremoniously into one of the cells, locking the door behind me. The O’Brien’s don’t deal with girls. Drugs, gambling, racketeering, tax evasion, the occasional pyramid scheme or Ponzi scheme, sure. But trafficking women is a no-go. We do have a couple of strip clubs, but those girls make something like $50,000 a year plus tips and health insurance. We don’t exploit women, so why I am locking this one up until she loves me, is beyond me.