Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“I’m going to hold you to that.” She says. “You know, it wasn’t until I was dying and heard you counting when I finally realized the real reason you go by Nine.” She lazily rubs her thumb over the back of my hand.
“Oh yeah? Took you that long, did it?” I tease.
“I’m a slow learner.”
“No,” I argue. “You’re mine.”
She smiles. “I’m yours.”
“Also, if anyone asks about the name…” I start.
She winks. “I got you covered. Big cock.”
“Ugh, don’t say cock,” I groan.
“Why?” she asks, looking me over for more injuries.
“Because it’s hot as fuck, and blue balls is not a pain I want to add to the mix right now.”
“Hmmmm…if only you had something to take the pain away,” she sings. She reaches over to the small table next to the bed and grabs a large Styrofoam cup.
“Is that what I think it is?” I ask.
She nods and takes a sip before holding the straw for me to do the same. “Yep, Preppy was here and brought some of his super smoothies.”
I take a sip but almost choke from laughter. “You drank one of Preppy’s super smoothies in the hospital?”
Lenny leans in as far as she can from her chair and whispers, “Nope. I drank two.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
LENNY
Four Months Later…
Nine seems off. Nervous. But then again, he’s at court. So, I imagine that whatever he’s doing here can’t be good.
After relentlessly questioning him about where he disappears to a few times a week and getting no definitive answer, I’ve decided to be a mature responsible woman about it...and follow him.
He’s not the only one who's nervous.
I stand in the corner of the large hallway tucked behind a large fake potted plant while Nine greets the officer standing guard outside large wooden double doors. After Nine enters, the guard begins to close the doors behind him.
I jog over and manage to squeeze through right before they close. I offer a small smile to the officer who, thankfully, doesn’t toss me out. I shuffle quietly into the last row and take a seat. No sooner does my butt hit the chair when the judge enters, and the dozen or so people in the courtroom stand, including myself.
“You may sit,” the judge says, taking his seat and glancing over the file in front of him. He’s a plump man with a shiny bald head and a short white beard. “This hearing is in regard to the well-being and guardianship of the minor child Huckleberry Leighton. Just so everyone knows, I like to keep my courtroom informal, but respectful. If anyone has an issue with that, you may see yourself out now.” He looks down to the file. “Who is standing in for Huckleberry Leighton, a minor, on behalf in my court, today?”
I’m shocked when Nine stands up and buttons his suit jacket. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in a suit and it’s so distracting I have to really concentrate to hear his words. “I am, your honor,” he announces.
The judge moves his glasses down on his nose and peers at Nine. “And you are?”
“Guardian for the court, Kevin Clearwater, Your Honor.”
I cover my mouth to hide my gasp. Nine is a guardian of the court? The very thing I told him I wanted to do with my life, but never did. My throat is dry. I’m trying to remain as calm as I can so I don’t draw attention to myself during the proceedings but what I really want to do is bounce out of my seat and tackle hug Nine in front of the entire courtroom.
The judge waves for Nine to step forward and approach the podium where a long skinny microphone is attached.
Nine does so smoothly and confidently, like he’s done it a million times before.
“Mr. Clearwater, have you had a chance to speak with Huckleberry Leighton before today’s proceedings?” The judge asks, looking down at his paperwork.
“I have, Your Honor. Many times.”
“And in your opinion, what is the best course of action for the child?”
“With no disrespect, Your Honor, my opinion isn’t why I’m here. I’m here to tell you what Huck wants and what his wishes are for his placement. Nothing more.”
The judge looks up at Nine again with surprise. A small smile tugs at his lips. “By all means, proceed Mr. Clearwater.”
“Huckleberry Leighton is a smart and bright eight-year-old who has been shifted around from foster home to foster home his entire life. He’s never had a mom and dad or a real family, and it’s what he wants more than anything in the entire world. He’s said as much every time I’ve met with him.”
“And how often has that been?” The judge asks, making notes.
“Twice a week, Your Honor. Every Monday and Thursday afternoon after his court-appointed visits with his biological mother.”
“And in your…excuse me, in Huck’s opinion, does he wish to be reunited with his biological mother?”