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)
“And I helped you, so he’s going to kill me, too!”
“He’s not going to kill you…”
Kyle followed the line of cars zooming toward the exit, the engine sputtering when he turned onto the road. I grabbed my plaid work top from my backpack. The gross smell of smoked meats lifted from the material. “Can I use your washer when I get off?” I yanked my T-shirt over my head, and Kyle nearly swerved off the road. You’d think he’d never seen a bra before.
“Oh, God.” He gripped the steering wheel tight, hunkering over it as he stared straight through the windshield. “If he finds out you’re staying with me, he’s going to take a poo on my porch before murdering me in cold blood.”
“No, he won’t.” Hendrix’s wrath was nothing if not infamous, and when he lost it, he wasn’t rational. I could handle Hendrix, though.
I fastened the last button on my shirt, then shoved my hand into my pocket in search of my hair tie. Instead of pulling it out, I pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
Kyle maneuvered through after-school traffic, rambling about all the ways Hendrix would kill him while I stared at the number I’d forgotten I grabbed from the Bullseye bulletin board last night.
“Again, he’s not going to kill you. He’s crazy, but he’s not a murderer.” I took my phone from my backpack and typed out a text.
Me: Hey. I’m inquiring about the room you have for rent.
No doubt it was another crack house or some pervy dude—just like every other room I’d looked at. It was Dayton. There weren’t many options.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: What do you want to know?
* * *
Me: Are you a guy?
* * *
Who I would be living with was the only thing that really mattered. The room itself didn’t mean much if the person was a pervy asshole.
* * *
UNKNOWN NUMBER: I’m a MAN.
* * *
Me: Are you a creeper?
* * *
Dots danced over the screen, then stopped, then started again. Of course, if he really was a creeper, he wouldn’t tell me. I fiddled with the radio while I waited, looking for the one good station that didn’t have static.
* * *
UNKNOWN NUMBER: WTF kind of question is that?
* * *
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Are YOU a guy or a girl?
* * *
Me: I’m a WOMAN. You didn’t say you weren’t a creeper…
* * *
UNKNOWN NUMBER: A creeper is as a creeper does…
* * *
Definitely a weirdo. But beggars couldn’t be choosers… I’d take a weirdo if they weren’t a pervert.
* * *
UNKNOWN NUMBER: You can come to see the place and decide if I’m a creeper for yourself. But you can’t be putting girly shit all over my house. Girly shit stays in your room.
* * *
I didn’t possess any “shit,” let alone of the girl variety. But all I could see now was some beer-can-filled bachelor pad. As long as there weren’t hidden cameras, I didn’t give a crap.
* * *
Me: Fine. What time?
* * *
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Tomorrow at 5?
* * *
Me: Yep. What’s the address?
* * *
UNKNOWN NUMBER: 1129 Victory Lane
* * *
Oh, hell no. I dropped my phone. It bounced off the seat into the footwell as Kyle downshifted gears, the car nearly stalling out. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I just texted to check on a room for rent. It’s Hendrix.” I should have known, should have damn well known. Creeper is as a creeper does… That had Hendrix written all over it. How in the hell, of all the people, had I managed to message Hendrix Hunt? I was starting to think he was the ghost of Christmas Past haunting me for my sins. God, I was cursed.
I wouldn’t give my ex the satisfaction of turning up just so he could reject me. I’d rather live with my cracked-out whore of a mother.
“You aren’t going to live with him, are you?” Kyle glanced over as he brought the car to a sputtering stop at a red light. “I can’t come to visit you over there.”
Was he crazy? “Hell no, I’m not living with Hendrix.”
A horn blared beside us seconds before a red slushie splattered the windshield, making both Kyle and I jump. “What the…”
Wolf’s beat-up truck sat in the lane beside us. My attention drifted to the back seat, and I rolled my eyes. Hendrix’s bare ass was pressed to the back passenger window, his balls like roadkill against the glass. Yep, Hendrix Hunt and his sagging summer balls were haunting me for sure. What was he, Beetlejuice? Speak his name, and he shall appear…
“He really shouldn’t be so proud of his asshole….” Glaring, I pressed my middle finger to the glass as Wolf laughed.
The puff of Kyle’s inhaler sounded beside me. “What if they run us off the road?”
The light turned green, and the tiny four-cylinder screamed as we shot off. Of course, Wolf changed lanes, tailing us.