Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Where’s Cindy?” It’s gruff and I know it’s that biker.
“Who is this?” Again, I look around the depressing white walls for something to drink. I see a soda machine with water. I stand and get my wallet out for a bottle.
“This is Ryder. Who is this?” he almost snarls.
“I’m Charlize.” I switch the phone to the other ear so that I can use my right hand. “Or Charlie.”
“You’re Poet’s girl?” he grunts into the phone.
“Who?”
“Put Cindy on.”
I clear my voice. Do I tell him she’s in the hospital?
“So Ryder… I had to take her to the emergency room. She was bleeding.” That came out so bad. “I’m sure she’s going to be fine though…” The line is dead quiet.
“What hospital?”
“Cedar’s.”
“Is there a Charlize out here?” A woman doctor stands with a laptop looking out at the waiting room.
“I have to go. They’re calling me.” I hang up on him. Whatever, I don’t even know if I should have said anything.
“Me, that’s me.” I run over to the doctor. “Hi, yes, that’s me,” I say, flipping my hair over my shoulder.
“I’m Dr. Sullivan.”
I nod and look around at all the people in the waiting area.
“Your friend is fine.” She turns to go.
“Excuse me?” I walk next to her. She stops and looks at me, almost as if she’s annoyed.
“Yes?”
“She was screaming in pain… and bleeding.” I motion to my crotch.
Her phone rings. “Excuse me.” She manages to put the laptop under her arm and talk on the phone.
I look out the sliding glass doors of the ER and blink at the bright sunny day spilling in. It’s been so crazy I haven’t even noticed the time.
“Sorry, I had to take that.” She turns and faces me. She’s the plainest woman I have ever met. Maybe, forty, tall, thin, mousy brown hair.
“So yes, your friend had a cyst that ruptured.” Her phone dings.
“That’s what caused the pain and blood. We gave her some medicine for the pain. She should be out soon.” She’s saying all this as she reads her phone.
“It would be nice if she had someone to stay with her tonight.” She finally looks at me.
“No problem.” I smile at her.
“Good.”
As I watch her walk away, my first thought is that I’m supposed to close tonight, not watch Cindy. I’m filled with guilt for even thinking it.
I go outside and push Mom on my phone. She’s going to have to close, which is never a good thing.
It goes straight to voice mail. I roll my eyes. My head aches. Did I ever eat that banana?
“Hey, Mom, listen.” I sigh. “I talked to the doctor. Cindy is on pain medicine. I guess a cyst ruptured. Anyway, the doctor wants to make sure someone stays with her. Ask Tiffany if she can come in, and you need to close.”
I toss the phone into my bag on a mission to find the banana. My stomach hurts and my head is pounding. I need to eat something. “Shit.” I sigh as I pull out the mushy brown mess. “Seriously?” It must have been smushed between my wallet and makeup bag. Either way, it’s not edible, so I toss it in the trash can to my right. That’s when I remember my coffee cup, which I clearly forgot in the poor Uber driver’s car. God, he must hate us.
My bag starts vibrating. In an instant, I grab the phone and realize it’s Cindy’s. Dropping mine, I fish hers out.
Ryder’s name slides across the screen. Of course, my heart jumps to my throat then back down. Should I answer again? I simply stare at it until it stops ringing. When I’m about to head back inside, it vibrates again.
Sighing, I decide to answer it. “Hello?”
“What happened?”
Holy shit. That gravelly demanding voice makes me choke up. Ryder’s not on the line, but David is.
DAVID/POET
I sit in the booth of one of our strip clubs waiting. Ryder and Edge have already started drinking.
The music is way too loud for this early crowd, or maybe it’s me. My chest is vibrating from the volume. I look around and grit my teeth. I’m not happy. As a matter of fact, I’m in a fucking foul mood. And this pit of a strip club has my name on the deed along with Edge’s.
We’re waiting for a kid named Brodie. This is the one I got from Reed’s FBI documents.
“I have to go get the DJ to turn down this fucking music.”
Edge shakes his head like I’m crazy or something and keeps drinking.
“Jesus, Poet. Chill the fuck out. I’m sure he’s jacked up from working all night. We had a private party.” He raises his beer and looks at the stage.
“What time does the replacement arrive?”
“I think noon.”
This is one of our older clubs. My scumbag dad was the original owner.
I got it when he died and added Edge on before I blew out of town.