Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Stumpy Ass: N
Stumpy Ass: D
Stumpy Ass: R
Stumpy Ass: I
Stumpy Ass: X
Stumpy Ass: I just checked the entire park for your dead ass and haven’t found a body…
Stumpy Ass: Seriously, dude. I’m starting to freak out.
Stumpy Ass: I swear to God. If I find you are already at Waffle Hut...
Me: I’m not dead. I forgot you were coming to get me and went to some girl’s house for a
fuck.
And now Medusa was forcing me to lie to one of my best friends. Like a five-foot-two devil in a baggy shirt.
Me: I’ll be at Waffle Hut in ten minutes.
I stuffed my phone back into my pocket just as headlights barreled down the street—Wolf’s headlights. Brakes squealed as the vehicle skidded to a stop. Then the window lowered, and a cloud of smoke billowed into the night. “What the actual hell are you doing on Lola’s street?”
“It’s not just Lola’s street.” I let out a heavy sigh and reached for the handle. “Three other girls live on this street, Wolf”. I opened the passenger door and hoisted myself into the front seat. “Give me a break.”
“You fucked her in the restroom at school a few hours ago.”
“I didn’t fuck her.” Finger fucked her? Sure. I could probably still smell her pussy on my hands…
Wolf’s gaze narrowed before he pulled off, dodging a stray dog roaming the street. “You didn’t nail me for using her name…”
I reared back and punched the shit out of his shoulder. “You know my brain doesn’t work after some no-name sucks all the baby batter out of my balls.”
“When does your brain work?”
We sat in traffic for an hour due to a shooting, and by the time I got out at Waffle Hut, my stomach was angry growling.
Wolf slammed the door to his truck. “Dude,” he said, rounding the front. “His face looked like ground beef. Be glad you couldn’t see it.”
“Keep that sick crap to yourself.” I passed between cars, stopping when I noticed Bellamy’s girlfriend’s Barbie-pink Porsche parked beside the handicap ramp. “I swear to God, Wolf, if he brought Drewbers to guy’s Waffle Hut night….”
The last thing I needed right now was to hang out with another her. I kicked the bumper when I passed by the offensive-as-hell beacon of wealth.
“I don’t care if he brings her,” Wolf said. “She pays for our food.”
Because she was Barrington and had a river of cash flowing through her backyard. The nightmare of a girl probably crapped hundred-dollar bills after breakfast, blowing farewell kisses to them as she flushed them down the toilet.
Ever since Lola left, I’d given the guys crap anytime one of them sniffed at a relationship. If the girl who had promised me, since the time we were six years old, that she’d never leave me did, in fact, leave me, they sure as hell couldn’t trust some new girl not to shit all over them.
I stuffed everything Lola back into the dark depths of my mind, then shoved open the handprint-covered door. “Come on. I’m hungry. Move your stumpy legs.”
A plume of smoke billowed up from the griddle, carrying the scent of hashbrowns—covered, smothered, and chunked—across the tiny diner. The place was empty aside from the group of truckers at the countertop and Bellamy hunched over a half-eaten plate in the back booth.
No decency.
I passed by the register. “Way to wait on us, asshole.” I slid into the empty side of the plastic booth, and he glanced up from his almost finished plate.
“What the hell took you guys so long?” he asked.
Wolf slipped in beside me. “You know the homeless guy who stands around the satanic goat fountain by the Methodist church screaming Bible verses at people?”
“Yeah…” He crammed a handful of fries into his mouth.
“Someone shot him in the middle of Highway 11. Then an eighteen-wheeler ran him over.”
“Oh, shit.”
A waitress leaned over the plexiglass that separated the booth from the kitchen to place new cutlery and a Styrofoam cup on the table. “There’s your shake, shug.” Chocolate dripped over the rim.
Anytime Bellamy brought his kid brother with him, the waitress gave him a to-go milkshake. After the bill.
On a scowl, I moved my attention from the drink to Bellamy. “You’re leaving?”
“I’m already late. I was supposed to be at Drew’s by eleven. I’ve gotta take her car back.”
“I’m stripping you of your three pimp stripes.” I reached across the booth and flicked his forehead. “Driving her rich-girl Barbie car and ditching on Waffle Hut guy’s night.” I shook my head in disappointment. “Going on dates. Now you’re ditching us.” I sniffed. “Nothing’s sacred anymore.”
“I’m not ditching. You were an hour late.”
“Homeless Homer lost his life tonight!” I bowed my head over the table and crossed myself. “Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Have you no respect for the dead?”
Wolf cackled. Bellamy buried his face in his hands. “I can’t deal with this.”