Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Ransom plops down on the edge of the bed. The headboard bangs against the wall, and the bottom end sags. I hope he doesn’t break it because that would be terrible for staging. My brothers are all big guys. We’ve broken more than a few beds in our time, and I wish we could say we’d done it the fun way, but alas, it usually happens when we so much as sit down.
“Just because terrible death is a possibility doesn’t mean it will happen.”
“It doesn’t mean it won’t happen either.
“Terrible death could happen walking out the front door. Everyone knows that.”
“Yes, but living the way we do is like loading the dice. It dramatically ups the chances for terrible death.”
“We should stop saying terrible death and find some wood to knock on. But anyway, if you like her, go and get her back.”
I grunt and start taking clothes out of the closet, hangers and all, and throwing the whole armload into the box. “Drag her back, you mean.”
“Or go join her. Kidnap her again, but this time, just for fun.”
“I don’t think she’d find it fun. She’s got a wicked knee, and my balls found out firsthand how much she liked it the first time.”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“I can think of things that are far more fun.”
“Like what? Don’t say getting your a-hole bleached. Some people actually do enjoy that.” Ransom pauses. “Wait. How does that work anyway?”
My eyes nearly pop out. I wish I could wash my ears out, as Granny often says when someone is being particularly foul. She never corrects. Just bemoans the state of her poor ears. “God, look it up. You’re good with a computer. Don’t ask me.”
“I think it’s something about lightening the skin or something.”
“I do not need to know that.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with a regular colored butthole.”
I shouldn’t rise to the bait, but I can’t help myself. “What color is that exactly?”
“Brown.”
“Susan!”
Ransom shakes his head, obviously confused about the very strange shift in conversation. He was the one to bring it up, though. This was not my doing. Maybe this distraction is what I need. “What’s Susan got to do with anything?” he asks.
“Brown-eyed Susans? The flowers?”
He shudders. I shudder.
“I can’t believe you just said that.”
“You literally say worse things every other minute of the day!” There’s no way Mr. Foul Mouth is getting away with accusing me of saying dirty crap.
He pretends to take the hoity-toity high road. “Susans everywhere are dreadfully offended.”
“Alright, alright,” I snort. “I’m sorry. Are you satisfied?”
“Very. Let’s banish butt holes from our minds and concentrate on the real shit.” Great. Looks like I’m not going to catch a break after all. “As to our lifestyle, we’ve all made it this far, and no one has found us or found out. We’re careful. Extra careful. Always. There’s no getting sloppy. Or you could just get out of it. This life, I mean.”
I gape at him. “Get out? I can’t just leave. Even if I could, it’s not a guarantee.”
“Yeah, okay. So stay the way you are now. Single and miserable. Or do you think you don’t deserve to have something good like her happen?”
Now I really gape. I can’t stop myself. I know I’m giving myself away and making Ransom’s job really easy for him. I might as well read him the book of my life and thoughts out loud so he doesn’t even have to look and read for himself.
“You do. You think that you’re not good enough for her.” He smacks his thigh, and the bed shakes ominously. “That, my brother, is a straight load of malarkey shit. No one is good enough or bad enough. It’s not about being good or bad or anything in between. What you think about yourself makes no sense, and if you persist in that, I’ll have to smack you upside the cranium or karate chop you in the epiglottis to make my point.”
“Christ, that’s quite vicious and aggressive.”
“It is, but everyone knows my bark is worse than my bite. Now, back to the inferiority complex that you seem to have developed, or mediocrity complex, or whatever it is you have going on. Is that a lesson that your shit for brains of an arsewipe rotten fart that lingers forever father taught you? How many years has Granny been trying to get you to see that you aren’t that man, and you never will be? You’re you. You’re a collection of all that bullshit, yeah, sure, but above all, you’re more than that. I think you’re a great human being, and I mean that from the bottom of my admittedly tarnished soul. So, if you think there’s any chance that Azalea would give you a second chance, I think you should probably go after her.”
“Go after her? That sounds like stalking.”