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)
“If that’s what you want to believe, that’s fine.”
“It’s not just what I want to believe. It’s the truth. I’ve had my one-night stands and quickies—not going to sit here and try to pretend to be some prima donna, but you know what? More times than not, it was unfulfilling. I don’t want to do that anymore. I really like you, Axel, and I don’t want to move too fast and tear everything all up. Sex can complicate things sometimes.”
“I like you, too.”
“But you don’t agree with me, do you? About the whole waiting to have sex thing?”
“I don’t have to agree with you about this. You’ve got your own mind, and I have mine.”
“I know, Axel, but do you agree with what I’m saying?”
“No.”
“I want to get to know you, really know you, before I open myself up like that again.”
“All right.”
He seemed so cool and relaxed, it was almost unnerving.
“Why are you doing this?” She was halfway amused, and somewhat annoyed.
“Doing what?” He got off the exit.
“Never mind. We’ve been having a good time, and great conversations. I love your work ethic, your sense of fairness, and how chivalrous and just real you are. Let me ask you something else. When was your last relationship?”
He stopped at a red light and stroked his beard. “Real relationship? Where she was my actual girlfriend? ’Bout a year and a half ago. Tonya. I think I told you this last time we went out when you asked.”
“You did, but I wanted to be sure I remembered correctly.”
“Nah, you remembered. You’ve got a good memory, I noticed that early on. You wanted to see if I was going to be consistent or have a different answer… see if I’m a manipulator or a liar.”
She burst out laughing. “Okay, you caught me. What we didn’t discuss, though, is how long you two were together?”
“Let’s see, Tonya and I were together for almost two years.”
“Did you love her?”
He snuck her a glance. “Why are you asking these questions?”
“Because I want to know more about how you handled your relationships in the past.”
“Yeah… I loved her.”
“Do y’all still keep in touch? Friends?”
“No. It ended on bad terms.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn’t who she wanted me to be, and she wasn’t what I needed.”
“What did you need?”
He was about five minutes away from her house now, and it began to drizzle.
“Somebody like you…”
Chapter Eight
The buzz of the lawnmower finally stopped ringing in Axel’s ears as he stood on his front porch, gulping down some ice-cold water and sweating something fierce. The ringing seemed to last forever, and his limbs felt rubbery and numb from pushing the machine for so long over the grass.
He’d mowed his entire yard, front and back, until the flawless lines he loved to create were picture-perfect. It was a long, drawn-out job. Not one he particularly loved, and he’d hire a professional service to do it most times, but he’d had a few hours to spare, and truth be told, it was a great stress buster.
Draining the bottle of water, he mulled the second—and pretty realistic—nightmare he’d just had featuring Ms. Florence, which left him angry as hell. Perhaps because it was just her eyes upon him. She said nothing but simply sat there, dressed in white, judging him.
Was it a fluke that she’d appeared the same evening he’d hung up on his father right before going to sleep? Too much bad blood… Ms. Florence had known of some of his issues with his father. How could she not? It was a part of him, as well as a big reason why he barely trusted a friend, let alone a stranger. Things had gotten out of control back then, and they weren’t much better now, either.
He and Dad had an argument last night. One of many. Axel got a call from a friend who told him he’d seen his father’s face plastered on camera, yammering about justice, fairness, and things of that nature. Now, isn’t that rich? If Dad wasn’t getting into it with someone for no reason, taking somebody to small claims court over some shit he did, lying to manipulate some poor soul out of their money, or flapping his gums to impress the world, he was calling some radio or news station with trumped-up allegations that were always salacious in nature, and more than likely, crammed with lies. This time, he’d gone too far.
Tommy had taken it upon himself to go to the news and talk about the drug element entering the city, destroying their town. All this little stunt did was put Axel’s face back in the news as soon as things had died down. Now it was like starting from ground zero.
What right did he have to do that? Calling Channel 32 and talking about, “My son is a hero! He’s doing the law’s job. He wouldn’t have gotten into an altercation in the first place if the Louisville police kept the drugs out of their hood instead of worrying about parking tickets and homeless people asking for a dime.’ Dad was right, but that wasn’t the point. Right message. Wrong messenger. That was in fact the thing about him.