Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
“Does that still upset you, mama? That I’m like him?”
“Sometimes it does, if you want me to be honest. I worry about your safety, Honey. I always do. You’re always in the line of fire. Always rebelling… Always runnin’ past the finish line, even when you’ve come in first place. I think you believe ’cause your daddy and I didn’t always get along, that that’s why I got after you like I did when you were younger. That wasn’t it at all. It was because I’ve never loved anyone like I did Malik, or as much…and look where he ended up?” Mama’s voice got choked up… after all of these years. “He couldn’t stop trying to prove himself. Trying to be someone he wasn’t in order to prove he was better, brighter… I see that same drive in you, but sometimes I wonder, is she being so brave to prove it to herself, or to prove it to others?”
Honey paused her walking and massaged a kink out of the side of her neck. Her heart rate accelerated and she could feel beads of sweat on her face.
“Well, mama, I have to get going. I’ll call you again soon, okay?”
“Okay. Honey?’
“Yeah, mama?” She slipped one earbud in her ear, eager to hang up and sort her thoughts and feelings.
“I had some bad dreams ’bout you recently. In one of ’em, you were calling out to me, begging for help. It upset me so. I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I’ve had some time to think since you’ve been away. Just ’cause I don’t always agree with your choices doesn’t mean I’m not proud of you.” Honey’s chest warmed. “I have the right to be worried about your decisions because I’m your mother. I know I don’t always say it, but, and you might not even believe me, but I love you, girl. I really do…”
“…Thank you for that. I love you too, mom.” Honey said her goodbye again, and disconnected the call. She began to jog, filling her lungs with air, getting into a good pace. An exercise groove. Her eyes stung with moisture as the wind whipped against her face. And then, she smiled…
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“That should do it.” Irish slicked her tongue across her lower lip, ignoring the crawling feeling along her brow. She sat down for a breather, figured she’d sweated about ten pounds off in the last twelve hours—ten pounds she couldn’t afford to lose, but it was well worth it. All the scattered wires, cables, and processors had been put back in place in her brother’s home control center, and she’d slaved long enough over Archer’s heavy-duty assignments to last her an eternity.
She gave her work a final glance, ensuring everything was just so. Being a bit of perfectionist in whatever she put her mind to, be it crime or legitimate ventures in creativity, she’d given it her all. I’m beat and parched. She swiped the back of her hand across her sweaty brow. Craving an ice-cold beer and a rest, she told herself to stop fussing and overthinking, especially after being turned down for a condo she’d attempted to rent earlier in the week. If disappointment had a face, Irish was certain it would be her own.
She wanted nothing more than to do it herself this time around. Though she enjoyed the lavish things her brother’s funds could afford her, she yearned to make the effort to get herself on her feet. To do something for herself. No handouts. No help from big brother. Archer didn’t make it easy to receive a bailout anyway. He understood the importance of hard work, but he was also a notorious overachiever who had only recently found more balance in his life. Regardless, he’d never left her hanging when she needed him.
No one he loved would ever be hungry or homeless on his Rolex watch. He could get her in a nice place ASAP and cosign on it, null and voiding her messed-up credit and history of theft or running out on bills, but she was sick of begging him for money and a way out. The car she wanted as compensation for the lofty camera and monitoring systems she’d installed was different—that was a gift for a job well done, and she believed in her heart she deserved it, but all in all, she wanted to earn her keep. She took pride in that notion, though she knew she’d fallen in her father’s footsteps.
I can do this. Look how fast and well I did this for Archer? Maybe even with my background, I could still get on with someone’s company, someone willin’ to give me a shot like Archer does the guys he hires? I’m really good at it, and I like it.
I’m smart. I’m smart. I’m super fucking smart. She repeated this mantra to herself in hopes of building self-esteem, and grasping to some kind of self-control.