Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Oh yeah?” I scoff. “Tell me one thing.”
“Molly Davis. I could have fucked her, but I didn’t.”
“Oh, wow. You are such an incredible man. How did I not see that before?” Brandon scoffs in outrage before grabbing the PS5 and attempting to unplug it from my TV. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re not taking that.”
“The hell I am,” he says. “It’s mine. I just bought it. I stood in line for fucking hours to get it.”
“Yeah, with money you stole from me. It’s my PS5, fucker. The only way you’ll be walking out of here with that thing is if you pay me back the money you stole.”
“It was a present.”
“It was not, and you damn well know it. Go and find some other bitch who is going to let you walk all over her because it’s not me. Though, if you’re lucky, you might just find this thing on eBay tomorrow, but I can assure you, you’ll be paying top dollar. Now, get the hell out of my apartment and don’t ever come back. It’s over.”
I walk over to the door and open it wide to find my biker neighbor standing in the hallway, looking as scary as hell with his arms crossed over his chest and a wicked glare across his face. I hold back a smirk. Breaker is the sweetest guy I’ve ever met, but the fact that he’s standing here to get rid of Brandon means the world to me. He’s a widowed classical pianist who moved into the apartment complex around the same time that I did. Somehow, over the past year, he’s become an adoptive father to me, always watching over me like some kind of guardian angel.
Breaker steps into my open doorway and looks through to Brandon. “Is there a problem?” he spits. “The lady asked you to leave.”
Brandon spins around, and the second he gets an eyeful of the imposing man in my doorway, he practically shits his pants. He flies to his feet and starts shaking his head. “No, no. There’s no problem here. I was just leaving.”
Brandon all but runs to the door and flies through it without even a backward glance and gets three steps before my neighbor clears his throat. “Her keys,” he demands, putting his hand out and waiting patiently.
Brandon seems to shrink on the spot before digging in his jeans pocket and finding the key that he’d stolen from my apartment. He walks over to Breaker and drops it into his hand, but before he can take off again, Breaker catches his wrist and pulls him into his chest. “You have forty-eight hours to have every cent you owe her in my hand. Otherwise, I will come and find you, and trust me, if I have to go out of my way for a swine like you, you’re not going to like it.”
Brandon looks to me as though I’m about to help him, but when I don’t make a move to save his stupid ass, he looks back at Breaker and swallows hard. “Um, yeah. Okay. I’ll get you the money,” he cries, nodding his head so viciously that he starts to resemble one of those bobble-head toys that bounce around in the front of cars.
Breaker releases him, and this time when he takes off, he doesn’t stop until his ass is dropping into his shitbox car and screeching down the street.
I grin at Breaker. “Thanks, you didn’t have to do that, but I really appreciate it.”
“My pleasure, love. You know you can always come to me if you need help with anything. Now, about next month’s rent. I didn’t mean to overhear, but you were screaming, and your voice has this weird ability to travel through walls. Do you need me to spot you some cash? If you’re struggling …”
“Oh, no,” I say, shaking my head. “Thank you, that’s really sweet, but I’ll be okay. From the sound of it, I’ll have that money back in no time, probably with interest too.”
“Let’s hope,” he says with a laugh. “I should do that more often. That was fun.”
“I’m glad you think so,” I say, looking back into my trashed apartment. “I better get started on this mess.” He nods and goes to walk away when I let out a heavy sigh and glance back at him. “Screw the mess. It’s not going anywhere. What do you say about going to the bar across the street and getting wicked drunk? I can tell you all about my first day and Dr. Dick.”
“Dr. Dick,” he says thoughtfully. “Why do I feel like this is a story worth listening to?”
“Because it is,” I grin proudly.
“Well then,” he says, waving his arm down the hallway. “What are we waiting for? There’s a bottle of wine and a scotch with our names on it.”