Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
It seemed it even happened accidentally these days. At parties, he could be seen trying to chat up one of the club girls. Likely looking for some good, casual fun. But in no time, the women were spilling their traumas, crying, then rushing out of the club like they’d just had some sort of massive therapeutic breakthrough. Or break. Who the hell knew?
All I knew was that afterward, Velle always seemed disappointed. Like maybe it had become a part of him. Like he couldn’t turn it on and off at will.
“Normally, I’d say to imagine someone you hate standing in front of the target,” I said. “But I got a feeling you’re too ‘healed’ for that shit.”
“Might be giving me too much credit there,” he said, shaking his head. “Think if you spend enough time around people who know a lot about the human condition,” he started, squeezing off a shot that landed too wide, “you learn that almost none of them can turn that lens on themselves,” he told me as he tried again, then again.
Getting further away rather than closer.
“Like that cellmate of yours?” I asked, moving closer to him, reaching for his arm, and shifting his aim slightly.
“Fucking genius. But he had a debilitating gambling problem that had him so in the red that he had to sell scripts,” he said, squeezing the trigger, this time actually hitting the target, but at the edge. “Not to mention a really twisted codependent relationship with his sick fuck of a mother.” This time, he almost hit a bullseye when he squeezed the trigger.
Just proving my point.
That when he stopped thinking about the actual task at hand, he was a fuckuva lot more accurate.
I wasn’t sure what that meant for a real-life application, though. If he was in a life-or-death situation, would he overthink it? Would he miss enough to risk not only his own life, but his brothers’ lives as well?
There was no way to actually answer that question, though. Not until it was put into practice.
That, I was worried, was something I might need to bring up to Huck.
“So, how’s the new place?” Velle asked, making sweat trickle down my spine.
I didn’t want Velle’s attention focused on me.
If there was anyone who could unravel my half-truths, it was Velle.
“A mess,” I admitted. “Don’t think anyone did any upkeep on it in several decades. Leaving from here to go try to clean up the yard,” I added. “Easier to do when the sun is down,” I added.
It wasn’t a lie.
I was going to do some yard work.
But mostly because I wanted to get a little dirty, a little sweaty. It would look good in the pictures and short video clips I would post on my profile.
“The work seems to be good for you,” Velle said, and it seemed like a careful way for him to say I’d put on about ten pounds since I’d bought my place, and started fixing it up.
“Yeah. Who’d’ve thought that manual labor would be a better workout than the gym?” I said, taking the gun from him, removing the magazine, then tucking both back into the carrying case I’d brought out with me.
When I turned back, I found his intense gaze on my face, but he quickly shook off the look.
“Not staying for a drink or two?” he asked as we started our way back to the clubhouse.
“Think I’ll leave the fun to you guys,” I said. “If I let it go any longer, I think my backyard could be classified as an actual jungle.”
He had to sense the lie.
But he said nothing.
Maybe I’d do him a similar favor and not mention his overthinking the shooting. Maybe I could just dedicate more time to working with him. Even if a part of me felt squirrelly at the idea of being near him more than necessary now that I had shit I didn’t want everyone knowing.
By the time we got back, half a dozen club girls had shown up, and were already in the pool with York and Levee.
“Have fun, man,” I said, giving Velle a nod.
“You too,” he said with that same intense stare.
I went ahead and ignored it as I made my way toward the garage, storing the carrying case away, then getting on my bike and peeling off.
I didn’t move far.
In fact, the proximity to the clubhouse had been a major selling point. Along with the steal of a sale price, thanks mostly to the disrepair the place was in.
I wouldn’t pretend to know everything there was to know about home repair, but I found that you could figure just about anything out if you watched enough videos on it. And were willing to drop a few grand on the tools for the job.
It was far enough from the clubhouse to give me privacy, but close enough that I could be there in something like seven minutes if shit was going down.