Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
After that, I annihilated Rappers Delight. Then Barrett performed an earth-shattering rendition of Benny and the Jets while I danced backup.
We kicked an entire bottle of Cuervo and dominated the mic, jumping from hip-hop to rock, segueing into some old-school gangster rap then dropping in a Barbara Streisand and Neil Diamond duet to show off our range. It was thirsty work, but we literally sang until the bar closed.
“Where do we pick up our royalty check for tonight’s show?” I snorted at my own joke, stumbling into Barrett.
He steadied me, but he was also having a hard time standing. “We should at least get a free drink.”
I reached for the microphone only it wasn’t there. Darnell was packing up the last of his equipment and our audience was long gone.
“Huh.” I looked around. “I think it’s time to boot-scoot-and-boogie on out of here. Where’s my purse?”
Barrett searched the shadows of the stools. “What did it look like?”
“White. Small.” I searched my pockets for my phone only to remember I was wearing a dress. “Uh-oh.”
“What-oh?”
“I think I left my stuff in the cab.”
“Fuck.” Barrett paid the bartender, but his counting was sloppy and I was pretty sure he tipped more than two hundred percent.
We wandered outside and I shivered. “D’ju have a coat?”
Barrett paused then frowned.
I patted my body. It had gotten a lot colder outside, but hey, it wasn’t raining and that was a win.
“We’re never going to get a cab this late.”
I had nothing on me to call an Uber or even Martel to come get us. “Maybe I left my stuff at dinner.” I couldn’t remember.
“Goodnight, guys!” Darnell called as he carried his equipment out to an emerald-green Monte Carlo.
“Whoa.” I stepped off the curb and my foot landed in a puddle, drenching my shoe. “Oh, man. My pretty shoes.”
“Careful.” Barrett caught my arm to steady me. “We need to find a taxi.”
I searched the empty street. “Maybe a Lyft?”
“Right.” He patted his pockets then frowned. “Shit.”
“What shit?”
“My phone.” When he pulled the door to the bar, it was locked. “No!” He pounded his fist on the darkened window. “Hey, my phone’s in there!”
But the place was locked and all the lights were out. The bartender must have gone out the back.
“Barrett?” I shivered, wrapping my arms around my chest as I began to really regret how much I drank. “Please tell me we have a way to get home.”
He looked back at me and I knew by the regret in his eyes that we were fucked.
The Snozzberries Taste like Snozzberries
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” I stamped my wet foot. “Barrett, we need a phone!”
“I’m trying.” He pounded on the window, but no one answered the door. “Damn it!” He snapped, dragging his hands through his hair as he paced the cracked pavement.
A sharp whistle snagged our attention and Darnell pointed to his car. “If you guys want, I can give you a ride home. I just have to make a few stops along the way.”
Barrett and I exchanged glances and he nodded. “Thanks. We really appreciate it.”
“Not a problem, my man. Hop in.”
I rounded the car with one wet foot and Barrett waved me toward the front passenger door. “No way,” I hissed, pushing him to the front seat as I angled for the back.
Every single exposed inch of the interior was upholstered in red velvet. Blue accent lights illuminated the space and gold ruching trimmed the seats. The steering wheel was a silver chain and the car reeked of skunk.
Darnell got behind the wheel. “Can I interest you guys in some Mary-J-Weedies?” He held out a thickly packed blunt the size of a baby’s arm. Was he planning on smoking that while he drove?
“No thanks,” Barrett said.
“Suit yourself.” Darnell lit the reefer and pulled out of the parking spot. “So, where ya’ll from?”
“California.”
“Oregon.” I cocked my head at Barrett. “You’re from California?”
“Originally.”
“Don’t you two know each other?”
It occurred to me there was a lot about Barrett’s life I still didn’t know. “I’m marrying his brother.”
“Mozel tov!” A plume of smoke blew from Darrell’s lips and hung beneath the red velvet ceiling of the car.
I coughed and tried to find a button for the window, but there wasn’t one. “Does this window work?”
“Nah. Old cars.”
The longer he smoked the more I was certain I was getting a contact high. When he pulled over, I was grateful for the chance to open my door.
“I should only be five minutes.” Darnell grabbed a bag from under the seat and left the car, taking the keys with him.
“I need air,” I gasped, pushing open the door and hanging my head out to breathe. Once the smoke left my lungs, I looked at the houses, but didn’t see Darnell. “Where did he go?”
“Inside that one.” Barrett pointed to a row home with a two-flight stoop.