Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Jake raised his brow. “Ticklish feet, huh? I’ll have to remember that the next time you zone out on me during a math lesson.”
“No, you don’t!”
“But see, it makes you smile to think about those things. You need to just remember the good times with him. Your brother’s last days don’t define who he was. You can choose to remember him however you want, like I choose to remember my Dad on his bike…just going out for a ride. It’s why I draw. It’s therapy for me and helps me etch the things I want to remember in stone.”
He folded up the sketchpad and returned it to the closet. I was kind of disappointed that he didn’t go through some of the other drawings. They all had to be meaningful to him in some way. I would take what I could get, though. This was the most information that Jake had ever offered me about his life. I wasn’t complaining, except for the fact that he returned to the chair by the desk, instead of sitting back down next to me.
As he logged off of his computer, he clapped his hands and said, “You know what you need tonight, Nina?
Interesting question and you could guess where my mind was heading.
“What do I need, Jake?”
“You need to get shitfaced,” he said getting up and putting on his black jacket. “Come on, enough studying for tonight.”
I followed him out to the hallway before stopping in my room to freshen up and grab a coat.
“Where are we going?” I said as he stood in my doorway waiting.
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll like it. Trust me.” The questionable smirk on his face told me that maybe I shouldn’t.
***
After a seven-block walk to Brooklyn Avenue, we stopped at a building with a bright pink neon sign that flashed: Kung Pao Karaoke.
“We’re doing karaoke?” I shouted through the sudden onslaught of noise as he held the door for me.
“Well, mostly we’re having a scorpion bowl or two, but if you get drunk enough, yeah, maybe.”
The place was crowded and the smell of grease and booze filled the air. A clearly drunk woman with curly dark hair and a butterfly tattoo was belting out Bon Jovi’s Living on a Prayer while the patrons went wild. She couldn’t sing to save her life, but clearly, that didn’t matter here.
“So, whaddya think?” Jake asked as we were seated into a small booth in the corner, thankfully, furthest away from the stage.
“It’s cool. I have never been to a Chinese karaoke bar. You’ve been here before?”
“Once, with the guys from work. I was too drunk to remember much.”
“Ah. Do you usually eat or just drink here?”
“That depends on what you’re hungry for.”
Something about the way he looked at me and licked his lip ring when he said that seemed flirtatious.
“I am hungry.”
“Okay. We’ll get a Poo Poo platter of appetizers and a scorpion bowl. Sound good?”
“Great.”
After the waiter came by and took our order, Jake startled me when he nudged my leg with his under the table. “No more talking about sad stuff tonight, okay? I want you to have fun.”
“You’re not going to make me get up there are you?”
His mouth turned slowly upwards. There were the dimples that had been hiding out up until now. “You know that I don’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Good, because I would need a lot of alcohol in me to get up and do that.”
A woman came by and set the humungous scorpion bowl down on the table. It looked more like a portable sink with two straws.
“Speaking of the devil,” he said.
“I think you’re the devil tonight, Jake. What are you trying to kill me? Look at the size of this thing.”
“I have…heard that before,” he said winking.
Lordy. I set myself up for that one.
I responded to the mental images that conjured up by taking a huge sip out of the bowl. This concoction was way stronger than it looked, and I coughed from the impact of it down my throat.
Oh, goodness. There were those images again.
Jake pulled the bowl toward him. “Whoa…slow down there, lush.”
I coughed again. “That is some strong stuff. It’s deceiving! It looks like fruit punch and tastes like rubbing alcohol.”
“After a while, you won’t notice.”
“It’s a good thing we’re walking home,” I said.
He lifted his brow. “You mean, I’m carrying you home.”
“Possibly.”
“In all seriousness, Nina, I can tell you’re a lightweight, so you should pace yourself. I don’t want you to get sick.” He paused. “Oh, speaking of lightweight, what was your date’s name again the other night? How did that go?”
“Haha, very funny. His name was Alistair. It was okay. I won’t be going out with him again, though.”
“Any particular reason why?”
You.
“He just turned out to be kind of a loser.”
“Well, I could have told you that. He was wearing fucking boat shoes. What is he, seventy?” He laughed.