Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 114647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
“Please, just for the love of God, don’t hit my face. I have something with Shiloh later. Don’t slip like last time, either.” I instructed him.
Elliott laughed from his perch on the weight bench across the room, but shortly went back to his bench pressing, shutting us out for the next ten reps. Jack didn’t bother trying to hide that he was watching the matchup. Neither did Gabe, who was coming into the room with a bottle of beer, sliding down the wall next to Jack until his feet were straight out in front of him.
“Are you drinking my beer?” I asked.
“Was it in our fridge?” He asked.
“Max’s beer was in there too.” I pointed out.
He sneered at me. “Max’s beer is for people with pussies.”
I laughed. Couldn’t help it. Max’s beer was for pussies.
“I saw you drinking my beer just the other day.” Max said indignantly.
“Ember brought it to me. It was for pussy, so kind of the same thing.” Gabe jeered.
I rolled my eyes. When Max started to take a step in Gabe’s direction, I shoved him. He took that as my signal that I was now ready, and the match began. My first punch landed in his stomach, bowing him over. His leg retaliated by snapping out, kicking me in the ribs.
“You’re dropping your right arm.” Max panted.
I corrected the mistake, blocking a blow to my face. “I said not my face, douche bag!”
“What, have you got a beauty pageant afterwards?” Elliott hooted from the bench press.
“No, I’m stripping for your women later. I just want to look good for it.” I taunted.
They didn’t have to know what I was really doing....right?
Forty minutes later, I was a sweating, bleeding mess, and my fucking nose was broken. I took satisfaction to see that Max wasn’t any better either. His eye had a cut that would probably require stitches, and ankle looked twice his normal size. Which was why we’d stopped in the first place.
“Quit bitching. I think you broke my nose.” I whined nasally.
“At least you can just knock it back into place. I think my ankle’s sprained. I have to run 10K in the morning.” He groaned.
I rolled my eyes. We’d done much worse. About five times that on a good day when we were enlisted. “Don’t be a pussy.”
The door slammed open and Ember came stomping in on a warpath. Her strides were more of a stomp then a step, and her face looked like she’d swallowed something sour. Her mascara was running down nearly to her t-shirt, and her hands were fisted into tight balls.
Gabe was laying on the floor now, eyes closed. He couldn’t see the tornado that was barreling towards him at Mach 5 speed. Fuck, but this was going to be good.
Walking in the direction of the fridge, I grabbed two beers, both man beers, and walked back towards Max. Handing him his beer, I slid down the opposite wall as Gabe, and settled in to watch the show.
“What do you think he did?” Max said gleefully, twisting the top off his beer and taking a swig.
He grimaced at the taste of the man beer, but didn’t comment on me actually getting him a dark brew instead of that watered down bullshit he always drank. “I think she’s pregnant again.”
“No, I bet she backed into something in his truck. Twenty.” Max bet.
We shook on it and waited.
When Ember finally reached Gabe, who now was blinking at Ember standing over him, I saw her pull something out of her hoodie pocket. A bag.
She then turned it upside down, and let no less than thirty sticks fell out, hitting Gabe in the chest with each of them. He watched as one by one, they hit him, and finally lifted his lip in a snarl.
“You pissed on these didn’t you?” Gabe said, flicking them off his chest with the tip of his finger.
“Yeah, but I warned you not to knock me up, and look what you went and did. Knocked me up. A-fucking-gain. Do you realize that this last week was the first time since Luca was born that I’ve had a full nights rest?” She yelled.
Not waiting for an answer, she stomped towards the door again, but stopped before she reached it. “Oh, and I backed your truck in to the light pole at Skinners.”
Max and I whooped. Gabe glared. Elliott laughed.
“Alright, I gotta get to the strip club. I’ll see you guys later.” I called as I headed into the bathroom.
They waved me off, dismissing my comment, and I went to the locker room to slip into my SWAT clothes. The more clothing I got to wear, the better. I just hoped no one recognized me.
***
Shiloh
“What is with that evil looking smile on your face?” Cheyenne asked me as we took our seats at the front of the stage.
I pasted on my best innocent look and batted my eyes at her. “What look?”
“That look,” she said pointedly.
“I just want to warn you ahead of time that you probably aren’t going to like this. Like, I really feel that maybe you should go outside and wait until one of us comes and gets you.” I tried again.
I’d told her not to come, yet she’d insisted. She just didn’t know how traumatized she was about to be.
“I’m staying.” She said firmly.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I said slowly, and then watched the crowd.
It was supposed to be gay night. I’d specifically chosen this night out, of all the nights, because I didn’t want any of the women ogling what was mine. What I’d miscalculated was that gay men had friends that were women, and it was inevitable for them to want to come. Just as mine had done.
“What’s going on anyway? I’m not sure gay night was the night to come.” Payton supplied just before she took a healthy sip of her Texas sized margarita.
It really was Texas-sized, too. It was in a fucking bucket for Christ’s sake. Not that she let the size stop her. She held it in her lap and had an extra-long straw (well, three normal sized straws taped together with medical tape) she was sucking with. The girl was adaptable if nothing else.