Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
His fingers ached when he squeezed the fork too hard and had to shake his hand to get rid of the discomfort. “Like what? We should be on our way to the medium lady.”
“I’ve got work to do. Don’t have time for worthless pursuits.”
Zane raised his eyebrows, surprised Roach even knew a word like pursuits. Something clattered in the bathroom, which meant Roach was getting on with his job.
Zane shoved the final bits of food into his mouth and rolled out of the chair, following the bright light of the lamp inside the bathroom. It was surprisingly large and featured a tub with yellowish build-up on its inner walls. Just as he entered, Roach bent over to duck into an opening in the wall, and the top of his ass crack emerged above the denim of his pants.
Zane whistled. “I can think of a different kind of job for you.”
Roach’s head bobbed up, but he ended up hitting himself on the sink, and Zane hissed in pain. Would this fucking curse ever stop? Roach needed to start paying more attention to where he flailed his body or what he put in it. It wasn’t healthy to toil from dusk till dawn either. What were Roach’s work hours anyway? Unreasonable—that was what they were.
“What?” Roach massaged his head but then dove right back in with some kind of wrench in hand.
“I’d have paid for you to give me a lap dance,” Zane said, stretching before he decided sitting on the dirty toilet would have been undignified, and entered the tub instead.
“I don’t dance,” Roach said as if the request was otherwise sensible. He must have gotten where Zane was coming from though, because he reached back and pulled his pants up.
No use—they slid back down.
Zane grinned and sank into the cold sarcophagus of porcelain, resting his feet on the
rim. “Shake it, shake it,” he hooted, placing his hands around his mouth.
“You don’t deserve to be as hot as you are,” Roach groaned from under the sink, dismantling some pipe.
Zane smirked at the compliment. “I wish it wasn’t the same with you. Such a terrible man. Such a hot body. That’s how people get their hearts broken.”
Roach sat back on his heels and glanced at Zane this time. “So when we first met… You actually liked how I looked?”
Such a greedy puppy. But what was the point of lying to him if Zane knew he was gonna tap that again anyway?
“I only slut around with people I like.”
Roach hummed before getting back to work. The fuck was that supposed to mean? Shouldn’t he be happy? Grateful a piece of juicy steak like Zane had given him the time of day in the first place?
“What was that? ‘Thank you, Zane’?”
“I guess. I thought you took head from me as distraction and just wanted my wallet.”
Zane snorted. “Oh, please! I wouldn’t have taken cash from just anyone. I’m not like that, Roach,” he teased and picked up a dry sponge from the rim of the tub to toss it at Roach.
“So you really liked me?” Roach asked, ignoring the hit as he backed away and rose to look at whatever it was he was working on. Which brought his ass within the reach of Zane’s toes.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Zane pursed his lips and extended his leg just enough to rub his foot against the left buttock. Roach was such an easy target.
“Fuck you.”
“No, Roach, it’s definitely fuck you,” Zane told him before glancing at his watch. The medium’s address was an hour’s drive away, maybe a little bit more, and they could still visit her tonight if Roach got his ass moving.
Zane yelped when something cut into his finger, but it had to be Roach’s doing,
because there was nothing sharp in the tub. “Jesus, watch it!” he exclaimed and stuffed the finger into his mouth, sucking on the blood. Had the bastard done it on purpose? Was he that crazy? What else would he be willing to suffer through just to hurt Zane?
Roach glanced over his shoulder with a smirk. “Sorry,” he said in the same kind of half-assed apology Zane had given his dad after being caught blowing a school friend in the garage.
“How long is that gonna take? It’s already dark!”
Roach pulled his head out from under the sink and got up to wash his hands, his hair in even more disarray than usual. “I’m done, Jesus. Could really use a cold beer right now.”
“We can hit a bar after we visit the lady fortune teller, or medium, or whatever she is,” Zane said, pushing himself out of the tub and facing Roach. “I can even buy.”
Roach dried his hands on a towel. “Come on, let’s be realistic and leave it ‘till next week. She’s not going anywhere, and I’m tired.”