Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
English tried to lighten her mood but she felt too tense, especially when her friend’s smile quickly faded. Melanie’s own anguish was hemorrhaging, bleeding onto the words she spoke, as if a razor blade had sliced across her thoughts before tumbling out of her mouth.
“I’m serious, English, and you know it. I guess I’m too bitter to give a shit anymore. But you? Nah, you’re just getting started.” The woman blinked fast, as if to wash away angry tears. She tossed on another smile, but English wasn’t fooled. “The dating world is your oyster, baby. Find you somebody new. When you take out the trash, leave it on the curb. Second chances are exclusive to children—or to our own selves. Everyone else gets put in a Glad bag.”
English crossed her legs and held her head up high. She had no intentions of diving into the swamp of temptation, only to drown a slow, agonizing death while gripping the memories of ‘what once was’ firmly to her chest as she descended into her watery grave. It was a simple mistake. An error in judgment.
“I’m done with it. I’m done with him. Trust me.”
“Good. I have to serve these beers.”
English nodded in understanding as her friend maneuvered around the bar counter with a tray of cocktails and pints. Melanie had had a hard life, but to many in town, she was simply a good-looking woman, tall with a small waist and wide hips. Beautiful dimples, full lips, high cheekbones, slanted eyes, smooth sand-colored skin and thick, wavy dark brown hair she deemed unmanageable and threatened to cut off come every summer. They’d met several years ago when English moved to Louisville from Dry Ridge Kentucky for a job offer. She’d stopped in the bar one evening with a couple of co-workers, and the two had been inseparable ever since.
The rock tunes morphed into rap and Hip-Hop music as the crowd thickened. Melanie was in high demand, making abundant tips, and got far more chipper as the night wore on. Just as English decided she’d had enough to drink, watching people toss darts, as well as swatting away a few overly eager men who attempted to pay for her pussy with a cocktail, she looked up from the bar, and her heart stopped at the sight that greeted her.
Well, shit…
In walked a tall son of a gun with long, dark blond hair flowing down his back like some golden cape, piercing green eyes, and a dense brown beard. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place his face. Her eyes burned into him, as did others, for he was the sort of man who commanded attention. He slapped hands with a few people, smiling and enjoying the welcome. A gun sat in a holster on the side of his hip, and he moved with purpose, as if he had one damn thing on his mind, and he was there tonight to take care of it, once and for all.
Maybe I’ll sit here a little bit longer after all. There’s nothing wrong with sucking on a bit of eye candy. Besides, I’ve got an insatiable sweet tooth, and I’ve stuck to my diet for a mighty long time. Time for a tasty reward. This sweet treat is wrapped in black leather and sounds like revving motorcycles and a barrel of bourbon covered trouble. He’s a sucker in need of a good lick, a drop desperate to be swallowed…
I’m not thirsty, but there’s no shame in tasting the samples. I’ll take seconds, and thirds, thank you very much.
Chapter Three
Seems to me, the more knowledge some people are given, the stupider they become. Some people though become sexier the more they learn, and that makes them so damn irresistible…
Axel walked into Cavaliers Inn and immediately heard his name being yelled and slurred from various usual suspects.
“Axxxel!”
“Hey, Axe-man!”
He nodded at a couple of acquaintances from the neighborhood, then locked hands with Magoo, an old head who did car repairs and a guy he’d known most of his life, like so many others in town. He strolled on to the beat of ‘Bloody Valentine,’ by Machine Gun Kelly, eager to make it to the bar. He looked behind the counter, his eyes resting on one of the mixologists. Melanie.
“Mel,” he raised his arm and wiggled his fingers a bit before slumping down onto the stool, “long time, no see, honey.”
“Heeeey, handsome! I haven’t seen you in forever, Axe. How’ve you been?”
The lady’s cat-eyes narrowed on him with a mischievous gleam.
He shrugged, pulling out a lighter from his leather jacket pocket, then his pack of cigarettes.
“I can’t complain.” He lit up, sweeping the place with a quick gaze.
“Hmph.” She smirked as she dried a glass beer mug. “That’s not what the news stations been sayin’.”
“You can’t believe everything you hear.”