Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
15
Zepp
The sun sank below the jagged TV antennas jutting up from the trailers. Wolf slumped down in the lawn chair, scrolling through his phone. “Ah, shit, dude. That Barrington chick I was banging the other night said she knows who ratted on us.”
With everything else going on, I’d almost forgotten about that, and for a second, I wanted to pat Wolf on the back. “Who?”
“She said she doesn’t wanna text it. Said she’d tell me on our date.”
I slowly turned to face him, one brow lifted in question. We didn’t do dates. We had girls over and screwed them, without the entire “I’ll pay for your dinner and a movie” bullshit.
“A date?” I said.
Thumbing over his nose, he leaned over his knees and snatched up a twig from the roof, tossing it over the gutter. “Yeah. I know. But two hours at a movie to know which little prick snitched on us...”
“Taking one for the team.” I slapped a hand over his shoulder.
“Oh, naw, dude.” He grinned like a fool. “You’re coming too. The girl’s friend wants a date with you.”
“I swear to God, Wolf. If you promised some chick that I would go to the damn movies.”
He clasped a hand to my shoulder. “Come on; she’s hot. Blonde. Big tits. A gymnast. You’re guaranteed a piece of that pussy.”
Like that made a difference. No way in hell I would endure two hours plus of some shit movie with a Barrington girl for a possible orgasm. Or some Barrington snitch’s name. No damn way.
“I already told her you would do it. Suck it up, dude.”
The door to Monroe’s trailer creaked open, catching my attention before it banged shut. She rounded the corner, dragging a garbage bag behind her. The words Wolf was saying were nothing but a hum in my ears.
“Whatever, man,” I stood and halfway waved him off as I crossed the slanted roof. I grabbed the top of the ladder and started down, pausing when Wolf asked me where I was going.
His gaze shifted over my shoulder in the direction of Monroe’s trailer.
“I gotta ask Monroe about some shit,” I said before continuing down to the porch.
“Yeah.” He snorted from the roof. “Right.”
The streetlights came on when I started across the dirt road, the one over Monroe’s lot flickering. She hoisted the bag up, and the garbage can tumbled over with a clang. She swore, dropping the bag and kicking at the dented aluminum before setting it upright. She crammed the trash inside, so focused on giving the can one last kick, that she didn’t notice me. Dusting off her hands, she spun around, then froze. “Uh, hi.” She glanced at Wolf’s trailer, then back at me. A wrinkle creased her brow. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I brushed past, turning around to face her while I backed toward her porch steps. “Gonna invite me in?”
“My mom’s in there.” Her gaze drifted to the trailer behind me, a hint of panic reaching her eyes. “And she’s cracked out.”
With that comment, I froze. I remembered what having a cracked-out mom was like—not wanting people to come over because I didn’t want them to see my mom messed up. Despite all her faults, she was a good mom. She had tried. And I loved her. I couldn’t stand the thought of people not understanding there was more to her than they saw.
Like me.
Like Monroe.
She stared at the trailer for another second, an unreadable expression settling on her face before she jerked her chin to the opposite side of the road. “Come on.”
We crossed through one of the lots, past an El Camino on cinder blocks and a yappy dog crammed in a kennel.
“Sorry. My mom isn’t good in the evenings. Or ever. Really.”
I thumbed over my nose. That was personal shit—I didn’t do well with personal shit. It made people real, and it was best to keep people outside of the guys at a distance.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” She stepped over the downed chain-link fence that separated the row of manufactured homes from an overgrown field that ran underneath the interstate, and I followed, the awkwardness growing thicker than the humid air around me.
“What do you do out here? Bury bodies?”
A small smile curled the corner of her lips. “How did you know?”
“You put off that psychotic, redhead vibe.”
She snorted. “Look who’s talking.”
Dusk settled in just as we cut into the woods, the temperature dropping from the thick shield of leaves overhead. The noise of cars backfiring and dogs barking gave way to the chirp of birds and the distant babble of a brook. Monroe carved a path through the pines until we reached a small clearing in the middle of the woods where a fallen tree laid across the creek’s path. I stood by the water, watching it move over the rocks, not sure exactly why the hell I was back here with her.