Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Ah, hell, Frank,” one of the white-haired guys grumbles. “You know damn well this country’s gone to the Democrats.”
The other man swats his hand through the air, losing his balance and falling against the side of the building.
I push the door open, and a thick haze of smoke slaps me in the face. My eyes dart around the dimly-lit room and hone in on the guy who’s slumped over the bar.
I nod to a few of the other men as I make my way across the room. I lightly touch my hand to his shoulder and he groans.
“Hey, Jim. You know today’s the last Friday of the month, huh?”
He rolls his head to the side, peeping up at me with only one eye. “Yeah, JP, I know.”
He sits up, leaning back in the chair and digging in his back pocket. He pulls out a manila envelope and hands it to me. “I gotta stop making bets with your boss man. He’s got a lot of juice for this old square.”
I smile as I take the envelope. Most people think I’m a beard—they think I’m the person between them and the bookie. They have no idea I’m the person they really don’t want to piss off.
“Ah, come on, now, Jim. You say that every time.” I shake his shoulder and open the envelope to peek inside. “It’s just for fun anyway, right?”
He snorts and picks up his glass, swirling the beer in the bottom before dumping it into his mouth. “Yeah, damn good time draining my bank account, but one of these days,” he says, shaking his finger at me, “I’mma win big. Then I’ll stop.”
“See you in a few weeks, Jim,” I call out as I head toward the door.
I climb in my car and barely get make it back onto the road before my phone rings. I answer it, and all I can hear is maniacal laughter.
“I’m busy. What the hell is going on there now?” I ask, switching lanes.
“Oh,” Bob manages through a cough, “you just need to come home. See what your pussy-ass little brother’s doing.”
“What? Oh, for fuck’s sake. Tell me he hasn’t gotten his ass handed to him by that little girl again?”
There’s hooting and hollering in the background from the rest of the guys. “Go, Brown. Go! Run that damn ball!” A loud eruption of screams ring out. “Looks like you’re gonna have a lot of collecting to get at. Florida just lost.”
“Good,” I groan, more concerned with what the hell that woman has done than the money I’d just made. “Now, what the hell is Caleb doing?”
“You just need to come see this, Jude. Sad to say I don’t know that he’s cut out for the family business. I think he may be hiding a vagina between his legs.”
I hang up and toss the phone in the passenger seat. “Damn it, Caleb!” I pound my fist over the steering wheel and swerve across the traffic to exit.
As soon as I walk in, I find a group of my uncles crammed around the kitchen table, pounding back beers and playing poker.
“Am I gonna have to beat his ass?” I ask.
Bob smiles, shrugging his shoulders. “If you ask me, I think he’s probably been traumatized enough by the sound of it.”
I shake my head and head down the hallway. Caleb’s just a fucking kid. He’s twenty-one, and at times I feel remorse that I allowed him to get involved with this shit. Sure, it’s our heritage, but at some point someone has to say they're too good for this fucked-up way of living. I tried that. I tried to get out of this, but I am undeniably damaged from growing up in the middle of threats, dirty money, and vengeance. It was my job to carry on my family’s legacy, but Caleb, he has no business here. He still has morals, and sometimes I hope that one day I’ll be too much and he’ll leave, forgetting how fucked up we all are.
I stop outside the door, jamming the key in when I hear sniffling.
As soon as the door swings open, I see him with his head on her shoulder and he’s fucking crying. She has her arm around him, soothing him. She looks up when I walk in and shoots daggers at me.
“What the...” I glance at the TV and see the end credits of a movie rolling. “What the fuck? Caleb?”
He looks up, wiping the snot with his sleeve. “Dude, Jude, that’s some sad shit. That’s true fucking love...and the birds at the end flying off”—he pulls in a breath—“that was like their souls flying away to spend eternity together. Deep-ass, sad shit!”
My eyes bulge and my jaw unhinges. I am literally speechless as my gaze darts back and forth between the TV and the two of them snuggled up on the bed.