Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 139147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
This was good.
So I nodded.
Cap kept going.
“It’s my opinion that it’s fucked I even have to state that a woman should have total control over the decisions that are made about her body. If the need is there to consult a healthcare professional, that’s her choice too. No one else should have a say in that. And any person should be free to fuck or love or marry anyone they want. Who you do that with bears no reflection on who you are. And I don’t give a fuck who or what anyone identifies as. It’s not my business. Don’t tell me how to live, I won’t tell you how to do it. You harm no one, I wish you no harm. And I know a lot of good cops, really good ones, Raye. They do shit and face dangers on the daily most people can’t comprehend. I also know there are shitty cops who should not have a badge. And I agree, shitty cops who shouldn’t have a badge are a huge fuckin’ problem. I don’t have the answers for fixing that, but I feel someone should work at finding the answers so everyone can feel safe with law enforcement. But I respect and work closely with law enforcement. It’s part of my job. It’s also just who I am.”
I nodded again.
Cap went on.
“I don’t give a shit who anybody voted for. I give a shit how you treat people. I give a shit how you operate in your community. You’re an asshole, I’m not gonna like you. You’re a good person, I’m gonna like you. You judge me for who I vote for or that I own a gun or that I work with LEAs, you can fuck off.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“You judge me for any of that?”
“No. I agree with all of that.”
And I did, and I could not express how glad I was that I did.
“They gonna judge me?” he asked, jutting his chin toward Scott and Louise’s house.
“I…I don’t—”
I didn’t finish stammering because his gaze cut beyond me.
I looked over my shoulder to see Scott was wending his way through the vegetation toward the Porsche.
“I guess we’ll find out,” Cap said, and I heard his door open.
I guessed we would.
Shit.
He got out.
I got out.
Cleo trundled out behind me.
Scott called, “You guys okay?”
“We’re good,” I called back.
He stopped a few feet from us, and his torso swung back. “Shit, son. That’s quite a ride.”
I stared at him, because Cap’s Porsche was not electric, and both he and Louise had had electric cars since the Prius was born.
Not to mention, he’d given me a gentle lecture when I’d bought my Juke, which was also not electric. I’d had to promise him my next car would be electric, and now that I was getting a JuiceBox, that could happen.
Though, I wasn’t letting go of Tweety anytime soon. I loved her, and she needed me.
“How fast does that puppy go?” he asked.
“Speedometer says one-ninety,” Cap told him.
Scott whistled.
“Are they okay?” Louise’s voice sounded from somewhere amidst the jungle.
“Yeah, woman!” Scott called back. Then he shared, “Raye’s man has himself a Porsche!”
“What?” Louise shouted.
Scott twisted at the waist to holler toward the house, “Raye’s man owns a Porsche!”
“Some borsht?” she yelled back.
“Porsche!” Scott bellowed. “The car!”
Louise emerged from the foliage. “Oh my goodness!” She clapped her hands, eyes to Cap’s car. “Isn’t that pretty?” She looked to Cap and saw the whole extent of the pretty, I knew, because she stopped dead and her face went slack as she stared at him.
“I’d be jealous if I thought she had a chance in hell,” Scott shared with Cap, taking his hand and thwacking him on the shoulder, all man-to-man greeting. “Scott Nelson. That’s my wife, Louise.”
“Heya!” she called, shaking herself out of the Cap Stupor.
“Cap Jackson,” Cap introduced himself.
“Fucking hell,” Luna said, showing at our party. “That car is dope.”
“Come in, come in, I’ve got hummus,” Louise said, circling her arm to invite us inside at the same time turning and disappearing in the bush.
Cap claimed me with his arm around my shoulders again, and we followed them as I said low, “She always has hummus.”
“Are they vegan?” Cap asked.
“Vegetarian.”
“Got it.”
“Yo, dude,” Luna greeted him when we got to her.
“Hey, Luna,” Cap replied.
“Yo, Cleo,” Luna greeted Cleo.
Cleo turned her nose up at Luna and followed the scent of hummus.
We navigated the jungle only to enter a different kind of jungle.
Louise wasn’t a hoarder, exactly.
But she did decorate with a heavy, unbalanced hand that veered wildly between Native American, African, Southwestern, Cape Cod, Japanese, rustic, Wild West, mid-century modern, art deco, and protest sign.
Cap didn’t even look around in wonder (or horror). He strolled right in.
“Have a seat.” Louise gestured to their new vegan leather couch, ignoring her dogs, the dogs she was fostering, and Cleo sniffing each other then pouncing and rolling around in a massive, playful, canine wrestling match.