Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
It doesn’t take more than one feminine mewl and a please from her to convince Kane that absinthe is good enough and that we should all head to her place.
It’s two blocks down and up a set of iron rails to get to the apartment. The sidewalk’s still wet and this late at night, there’s no one else on the streets. Just a bunch of drunk assholes stumbling on their way home. We fit in perfectly. I keep my eyes ahead, but occasionally look back and in all directions casually. I know the street and the apartment complex well. There aren’t any cameras or storefronts for onlookers. Still, I watch and wait for any type of paparazzi.
I follow them as Kane and his friend cling to the group of women. There are three of them, two blond chicks and a dark brunette with curls, each barely covered in skimpy clubwear as they grip the railing to the apartment stairs and laugh as they stumble their way up in heels. It’s difficult to tell with the other blonde if it’s an act and she’s playing up the drunkenness, or if she’s really that plastered.
Kane’s hands are all over Christi, moving from her hips to her ass as he walks behind her. Mikey’s into the other blond chick and the brunette’s checked out, only interested in smoking weed and getting trashed.
I tolerated the attention and flirting in the beginning of the night, but after a few minutes of ignoring the women, they lost interest and moved on. I’m certain this brunette is well aware there’s nothing happening between us. The number one rule of my job is to not bring down the vibe. So I offer her a smile when she peeks at me, but then go back to scanning the surroundings and blocking the view from the street. One thought gnaws at me as the group travels along: I just want to get back to Kat and make her take it all back. Make her forget what happened and remind her why we’re meant to be together. Remind her why she’s mine.
I don’t want this life anymore. Not when it makes Kat doubt me and what we have. Rightfully so.
I can’t take this shit. I’ll give it up for her. She’d take that, wouldn’t she?
As the girls laugh nearly in unison to something that Mikey yelled out and the door opens, I take my phone out of my pocket, glancing up to make sure none of the girls have theirs out.
The number two rule of my job: no pictures.
That’s my second concern. The first is getting Kane and peacing out of here. He’s had a good time; he’ll remember enough of it at least. I’m not interested in being here any longer than I have to be.
I’m distracted for only a moment. Half a second, but the moment I stop watching these girls, one of them breaks rule number two.
The second Christi’s blond friend pulls out her iPhone, flicking her long hair behind her as if she’s only taking a selfie, turning and posing with Kane in the background, I snatch it from her. She gasps and tries to grab it back like this is a game and I’m making a move on her. Her smile widens and she lets out a small laugh, again trying to snatch it from me.
Keeping the smile in place, I’m firm. It takes her a minute to realize no matter how much she pulls on my arm and makes that girlish cry, I have no intention of giving it back.
“No pictures,” I tell her simply, my voice low and admonishing. I don’t have time for this shit or her antics. She knows what she’s doing and it’s not cute or funny.
The smile drops from her face, her disappointment evident. I force myself to stare into her drunken hazel gaze until she looks down and then holds out her hand. The flirtation is completely gone. “I get it,” she snaps.
I place the phone in her palm after I shut it off and she huffs like I’m an asshole, but she’ll listen. They always do. It’s obvious she’s biting her tongue over wanting to tell me off and I can’t really blame her. She wouldn’t be the first. I’ve been slapped more times than I know. Mostly by women. Years of doing this have led to plenty of fights and unfortunate events.
I’ve beaten the shit out of assholes.
Called doctors and paid them in cash to come to hotel rooms.
I’ve paid off cops, bouncers, bookies. At this point I’ve seen it all, done it all. And I’m tired of this shit.
This little blonde, though? She’ll pout and listen, even if she tries to make a move on me and probably attempt even more pictures throughout the night.
The bright green of the absinthe bottle catches my eye as the blonde I just pissed off brings it to the coffee table. I watch as she sets it in the center and lines up three shot glasses before going back to the small kitchen only ten feet away to grab more.