Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“He’s prickly today,” Drew whispered.
“He’s always prickly.”
Hendrix cut through the overgrown grass to the tarp-covered car at the back of his lot. He tossed the cover off, revealing an old Chevy Dodger with a cracked windshield and missing hood.
“What is that?” Drew lifted a brow.
Hendrix sighed. “Bell, you’re dating a girl who doesn’t even know what a car is.”
Drew flipped him off. “That is barely a car.” Then she glanced at me. “Is this stolen?”
“Yeah.”
Hendrix took a pair of pliers from the toolbox, scowling at Drew. “Is that car stolen, she asked. Like we’d just have shit sitting around. God, rich girls.” He moved toward the car and leaned over the engine. “Wolf and me are going to another revival this week. If you can get away from Medusa, you should come.”
I had no reason to go to that crap with them. “I’m not trying to pick up girls, asshole.”
“Oh.” He glanced over at Drew and rolled his eyes. “That’s right. You’ve gone all pussy and shit. Fine. We’ll keep the virgins to ourselves.”
“Whatever, Hendrix.” I grabbed a razor blade from the kit and went to the driver’s side to file off the VIN number.
Drew leaned against the side of the car. “I’m sorry. You’re going to church revivals. To get laid.”
“Yeah.” Hendrix cackled. “I caught me two virgins with one hook.”
I glanced through the windshield just as Hendrix pullrf at his crotch.
“So wait. You got two virgins, into a three-way?” Drew asked.
I shook my head, climbing out of the car to grab the number from the doorjamb. “Don’t ask him shit about it. Just pat his back and--”
“Call me Casanova.” He chucked the pliers at me. “And screw you for not wanting to know more, you dickdribble.”
Drew’s phone rang. Then rang again, and again.
“Irina.” There was a pause before she turned away from us. “No, I am not putting you on video. Why? You wouldn’t--Fine. Jesus.” She glanced around before turning her back to the yard and holding her phone in front of her face.
“Where on earth are you?” A woman’s voice came over the speaker.
“Out.”
“Is that--Are you doing charity work?”
“No! Look, can I call you later?”
“Your father tells me you’ve run off with a Dayton boy, a criminal. Ruined his house. He’s very concerned for your well-being. You need to return home, Drucella.”
Hendrix’s ears perked up at that comment. He shoved away from the engine, stalking toward her. “Who’s that Drewbers?”
The glare Drew leveled on him could have made hell freeze over.
“Is that him?” The woman sounded alarmed. “Are you in a ghetto?”
Drew’s face went red. “Mom! Will you stop? I will call--”
Something inside of me snapped. “No. That’s not him,” I said, moving toward Drew. I snatched the phone from her hand. Then stared at the dark-headed woman with a face full of makeup and puffed-out cheeks. “This is him. What’s up, Momma?” I lifted my chin, then swiped a hand over it.
Hendrix cackled in the background. “Yes! You just went from pussy-ass bitch to stunner, Bell.”
Drew tried to snatch the phone, but I held it out of her reach. “You just called her Momma!”
The woman stared at me for a moment, then brought a glass of wine to her red lips. “Are you a criminal, young man?”
“Depends on what your definition of one is.”
Drew jumped up and managed to grab the phone. “No, Bellamy is not a criminal. Yes, I trashed his house because I had a party, because he forgot my birthday. Also, dad called me a whore. Thank you for the Porsche. I love you and I will call you later!”
“Bisous, darling.”
Then she hung up and turned on me. “You” She poked my chest. “And you!” Then she jabbed at Hendrix. “I can’t.”
I lifted a brow. “The ghetto…”
“She’s sheltered! She lives in Saint Tropez and thinks Champagne is an appropriate breakfast option.”
And this was the girl I was falling for. Hard and fast, like an idiot skydiver without a parachute.
39
Drew
A cloud of black exhaust coughed from the tailpipe as Bellamy drove off, and I stood on the front porch, staring at the door. My dad had called my mother, and not only did they hate each other, but he’d never admit his failings to her willingly. And that was enough to tell me whatever I was about to walk into was going to be bad.
I slowly closed the heavy, wooden door. The click of the lock echoed into the tall foyer.
“Drucella. Come here.”
The force of my heartbeat sent a nauseating feeling churning in my gut as I followed the sound of his voice. My dad sat at the breakfast bar, a glass of whisky in front of him. “Hope you enjoyed yourself.” He stared into the glass, swirling the whisky before he polished it off.
“I’m sorry I had a party, and the house got trashed.” From the look on his face, I needed to apologize or he might kill me. “It was my birthday.”