Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Question of the Day: Does Luna use the detachable wand in our bathroom shower? Why is Luna so cute? How badly would the Hales lose in a Hunger Games situation?
19
PAUL DONNELLY
Everything is going to plan so far. By lunchtime, I swap out with Gabe, SFO’s resident floater, who immediately goes on-duty in my stead.
For a while now, Xander hasn’t needed two bodyguards on his detail at all times, and he’s been calm whenever I’ve had to take a short break and someone else is placed with him. He gets it’s temporary.
I’ll be back.
Going to my cousin’s row house down in South Philly isn’t the furthest trek. And I’m not making this a habit. This is a one-time thing.
Hopefully.
Tonight’s my little elf’s first Homecoming dance, and I’m not missing it for anything.
Colin’s place is bottom-level of the row house, and skipping every other step, I quickly descend and go below street level to the worn navy door.
Two knocks, and it swings open.
Same chestnut brown hair as mine. Same blue eyes filled without a hint of surprise. Colin lifts his chin to appear taller, but he’s standing shorter by a few inches. At thirty-two, he’s wiry and skinny like how I used to be before MMA, and his face is pockmarked from old scabs. A thin silver hoop earring looks new.
But I wouldn’t know. Haven’t seen him in over a decade.
“Paul,” Colin appraises me with the quickest sweep. He opens the door wider, and I take a step through. As soon as my foot crosses the threshold, I know I’ve made a choice to reenter something I’ve been trying to leave behind.
But I have to.
There’s no way to make this right without being here.
“Colin—”
“You know the rules,” he interrupts and lights a cigarette. He motions to me, up and down. “Clothes off.”
Paranoid fuckers.
I grip my T-shirt and pull it over my head. Next, I kick off my shoes, remove my belt, and step out of my pants. Nothing but socks and black boxer-briefs and pierced nipples, I hold out my arms like done.
Colin barely blinks. “All of it.”
I don’t move. Instinctually, my feet plant. Normally, I wouldn’t bat an eye going buck naked, but I hate doing anything under duress.
He blows out smoke. “I don’t want to see your dick, but I’m not about to get reamed out if you have a wire and I was the one that let you slide.” He motions to me again. “Either get fucking naked or get the fuck out of my house.”
Taking a breath, I tear off each sock and then slide off my underwear. Colin evaluates me head to toe. My white pale skin is decorated with ink in random places. Like my elbow. Below my hips. My arm. Over my heart. Along my ribs. My legs.
Scattered, most old and some sorta new. With my socks off, I’m just hoping he doesn’t see the names on my ankle.
“Turn around.”
I do.
He keeps looking for something that’s not there. I’m not here to spy on him or my family.
“We good?” I ask.
“Nah,” Colin says. He scoops up my clothes, including one of my favorite Aerosmith tees. I follow him into the kitchen where he dumps my shirt, pants, socks, and underwear in the sink. He swivels the faucet.
I watch him soak my clothes.
While I’m standing naked in his kitchen, Colin rotates back to me. “Now we’re good.”
“You got a robe or something?” I ask him. “I don’t feel all chatty with my dick hanging out around my cousin.”
“Always the comedian.” He laughs and walks towards his bedroom down the hall.
I scan the kitchen. Same as I remember. Linoleum floors, ugly yellow wallpaper, and a rusted stovetop. Kitchen table has baggies of weed and papers, nothing like the shit my parents usually mess with.
A robe hits me in the face.
There are hearts all over it.
“My girlfriend Kate left it here.” He offers me a cigarette, and I take it. “She’s cute. Your type. She’d probably fuck you, if you want.” He doesn’t know me enough to even guess my type.
Colin, I remember as a quiet cousin around my age, always did what he was told. Only three years older, he’d be in my parents’ living room with other family who’d slip in and out of bedrooms. Where I saw they kept the drugs.
That was before they started cooking meth.
“No thanks,” I say, slipping my arms through the robe’s holes. Something sour is roiling around my stomach. I keep the cigarette pinched between my fingers.
“You sure?” Colin takes a seat at the kitchen table. “She’s a big fan of yours. The Ass-Kicker. That’s actually how I got her in the first place, seeing as how I’m the cousin of such a notable celebrity.” The way he says notable celebrity makes it sound like I’m a dime-a-dozen D-List nobody on the side of the road.