Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“I’m gonna marry her,” says Robby, full of determination as he stares off, like he can see their wedding day. “No matter what anyone says or does to stop it.”
“He’s talking about Nessie’s parents.” Jeremiah covers Robby’s ears. “They don’t approve.” Robby swats the hands away, scowling.
I give the men a nod of appreciation. “Thanks, but I think I’ll have to join you another night, if that’s alright, gentlemen.”
“We’ll be at Tumbleweeds tomorrow, or Thursday if Robinson cancels rehearsal again. See you there if you’re up for it. Enjoy the rest of your night, Bridger.” Then the two set off down the road, Robby going on about something his girlfriend’s mother said the other day as Jeremiah nods and nods, listening.
Five seconds later, their problems couldn’t be further from my mind. I head up the path to the doors of the church, then step inside. Dim light spills from the annex full of tables, the lobby and main chapel dark. I gently close the door behind me and approach the archway leading into the annex, where I stop.
In the center of the annex among the sea of fold-out tables is a ladder. Barely over halfway up that ladder is Anthony, wearing a pair of low-hanging jeans with the top of his underwear showing, the bottom of his jeans bunched up at the ankles by his brown leather boots. He’s also in another ill-fitting white tank top that doesn’t quite reach his waist, reminding me of how he looked the first time I saw him, minus Duncan’s vest. His movements are slow as he tiredly inspects a burned-out fluorescent light, twisting it one way, then the other, grunting groggily to himself.
He would have an easier time of it if he’d just go up one or two more steps instead of stretching to reach the light like he’s afraid of falling three feet off a ladder. Or is that it? Is he afraid of falling? He appears to be working here all by himself, to be fair.
“Jeremiah?” he mumbles sleepily over a shoulder. “That you? Still here?”
I guess I wasn’t as stealthy as I thought.
Before I say a word, he reaches out behind him. “Can you get me the screwdriver?” When I don’t answer, he turns his head only halfway, annoyed. “Please? Sorry I said you sing like a hedgehog on steroids, I dunno what that even means. It’s been a shit week. All sorts of nonsense flyin’ outta my mouth.”
After a second’s hesitation, I come into the annex. On a table next to the ladder is a messy spread of tools and screws, a long skinny box, and his phone. I pick up the screwdriver and press it into his wiggling fingers. “Thanks,” he says without looking.
I decide to speak. “Why don’t you go up a few more steps?”
Shockingly, he even mistakes my voice for Jeremiah’s. “Why? So I can fall and break my neck? Ladder’s a rickety-ass death trap! Trey or his dad needs to get one that ain’t fifty years old.”
This guy really is out of it. He must be. He’s talking like he’s running on the fumes of fumes in an empty tank, chugging along at barely a mile per hour, and doesn’t realize who he’s talking to.
I come and stand on the bottom step of the ladder, securing it with my weight. “Better?”
Anthony half-turns his head again. “What’re you doin’?”
“You can go higher now.”
“Really? You’re just gonna stand on it like that for me?”
I’m honestly stunned he still thinks I’m Jeremiah. “Yep.”
“With my butt in your face?”
I look away. “Yep.”
“Suit yourself.”
He goes up two more steps. I lean back as his ass, indeed, finds itself right by my face. Even being closer to his work as he is now, he still grunts like every tiny thing is the most exhausting effort.
“Not goin’ out with the others?” asks Anthony.
I turn back to him. He keeps sighing a lot, his butt turning one way, then the other, wiggling unintentionally in my face. “Nope.”
“Why not? Doubt Burton will be there. Didn’t even show up tonight. Bet you fifty buckaroos he’s gonna quit the choir any day now n’ go full-time at the paper ‘cause of his hard-ass dad.”
I don’t know and cannot possibly explain why I’m fighting an instinct to bite his wiggling ass. Why do I want to bite it? Because it’s right there? Why is this even a thought in my mind?
“Of course, he’s got a fancy girlfriend now …” Anthony goes on, his voice slurring every other word. “How a guy like that scores a pretty girlfriend like that, fuckin’ mystery to us all …”
I feel like I’m holding a conversation with Anthony’s butt.
A one-sided conversation, at that.
“Heard you went to Trey and Cody’s last night for a barbecue, one of Cody’s grill things.”
I stare at Anthony’s butt like it’s got me hypnotized. “Yep.”