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)
Shaking my head, I followed the dimly lit, deserted road in the direction of town.
“I got five hundred for a Chevy one time,” she said. Like that made it any better.
Stealing anything would get a person in trouble, but cars—that was a felony. A felony she had been committing for God knows how long for two-hundred and fifty bucks a pop! Oh, excuse me. Once for half a grand.
I stopped midstride, turned around, and grabbed her by both shoulders, then lowered my face until I was eye-level with her. “Zepp just spent almost a year in prison for stealing cars. He got out early…”
Since we were kids, I’d protected her. And like hell I’d ever let her help Zepp and me when we had started stealing cars.
Jail time was my risk to take, not hers. Some men provided by paying the bills, others did it by keeping their girl out of prison. She was no longer my girl, but I’d still keep her out of prison.
Closing my eyes, I let out a heavy breath. “Grand theft auto, Lola…for two hundred and fifty bucks.”
“What else am I going to do?” she whispered.
And that was the shittiest part about it. What else were any of us going to do? We were one stolen car away from dirt poor. A few bags of weed away from not having food. Survival could get ugly and desperate. Life could get ugly and desperate.
“We’ll figure something out,” I said, then started down the dark road again.
“We?” The buzz of insects silenced in the tall grass when her footsteps fell in step beside me.
“We need money, right?” I glanced down at her short silhouette. “Zepp’s ass isn’t going to be any help.”
“Oh, so now we’re working together?” She crossed her arms on a huff. “Last time I checked, Sid hasn’t miraculously risen from the dead, so...”
Severing Sid’s head hit her harder than I had thought.
That was a lie. I knew exactly how bad it would hurt her. I just didn’t want to admit that I could be that big of an asshole. At least not to her.
“Hate me all you want,” I said. “It won’t fix Sis and it won’t fix the roof. And stealing scrap cars for Willy Van Rip Off won’t, either.”
“What else do you suggest? Your weed empire?”
My weed empire… Selling dime bags to Dayton and Barrington kids was hardly an empire. Which is why I’d been racking my brain for some other way to pay the bills. And I could definitely use someone’s help. “I’ve been thinking about a raffle,” I said.
She stopped, the gravel on the shoulder crunching beneath her feet. “A raffle?” And that was an uncertain look if I ever saw one. “Like, win a year’s worth of Frank’s Famous Chicken?”
“How am I going to get a year’s worth of Frank’s Stupid Chicken?”
She threw her hands up. “I don’t know! How are you going to get anything, Hendrix?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’ve got to go to Bullseye and see what I can steal.” I hadn’t exactly thought it through. It was still brewing baby batter just waiting to be shot out when the idea had matured enough. “Do you want the roof fixed or what?”
“Fine. Whatever. I’ll help you.” She started walking again. “Doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you for murdering Sid. Ever.”
* * *
When we got home, Lola headed upstairs. All huffy, puffy and shit.
I went into the living room, taking a seat beside Zepp. He had some wrestling match on the TV. I hated that crap, but I’d give him a break. Once. The camera panned out across a packed arena.
“Talked to Wolf’s dad while you were out,” Zepp said. “He knows a guy who could do the roof for four grand.”
That was still a shit ton of money. “Better than what we were thinking.” I stared at the TV, watching the guy in the bright-red tights slam another greased-up man onto the ring floor.
“Yeah.” Zepp grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the coffee table and lit one. “He also said he may know a guy hiring over at the Jiffy Lube. But I wouldn’t start until after Thanksgiving.” A cloud of smoke drifted past my face. “The roof will rot by then.”
“Don’t stress. I’m working on it.” I dug the cash from Rip van Willy out of my pocket and chucked it at my brother. “There’s a start.”
Fingering the small stack of bills, Zepp flicked the ash of his cigarette to a Coke can. “Do I wanna know?”
“You wouldn’t care. Your probation officer would.”
I watched the rest of the wrestling match with him, then grabbed the vacuum from the hall closet and headed upstairs to my room. My gaze drifted from the tarp Zepp and I had nailed up earlier, to the dust and plaster everywhere. And that damn bird’s nest.