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)
I snorted and moved closer to him, whispering in his ear, “How much of a man are you going to feel when you can’t taste my pussy later?”
Zepp grumbled, taking his mug. “If Hendrix is a man, I’m a fuuuu—” He glanced at Gracie glaring at him like if his next words weren’t right— “Fun Greek god.”
I snorted. They’d always tried not to swear around Gracie because she was a girl. Arlo, on the other hand, had picked up a litany of bad words by the tender age of four. Mainly from Hendrix.
Hendrix turned on cartoons for Gracie. She took her hot chocolate and dropped to the floor right in front of the TV.
Hendrix sat on the couch beside his brother before pulling me onto his lap. “The only thing worshipping at your altar, Zeppelin, is the redheaded hellhound. Bow-fuuuu-ning-Wow.”
“Jail was preferable to dealing with your ass.”
Hendrix grinned, those dimples making him look deceptively angelic. “Missing the way Billy Bob caressed you at night?”
His brother let out an exasperated huff. “Why were you born?”
“Because you were such a disappointment that Mom had to get knocked up a month later to produce perfection.” He took a massive gulp of his scalding drink. No sense, no feeling. “And who has the bigger cock—” his gaze strayed to my sister, and he frowned— “a-doodle doo?” He thumbed proudly at his chest.
He was an idiot, but God, I loved him. I loved everything about this carnage. This family.
* * *
Chapter 40
HENDRIX
When I’d told Wolf earlier that I had enrolled to get my GED, he whacked me on the back and said it was a smart move for a human amoeba.
Which was why he deserved to have his truck stolen. Again.
I lowered the tailgate and set the empty mason jar on it when the twenty-fifth text came through.
Stumpy Ass: I know you stole my truck, Hendrix.
Me: BORROWED. Because I’m returning it after work.
Then I silenced my phone.
Lola rounded the back of the truck in her scarf and coat and propped the handwritten sign against the bed.
1 ticket $5
2 for $8
3 for $10
The other side read: Proceeds for Dayton’s Wrestling team.
Over the past month, we’d perfected this… business model. And I used that word because I had every intention of taking it to the next level. Legally. With a website and online checkout. Maybe one-day shipping. Trying to figure out which prize would make the most money was like an adrenaline hit straight to the reward center of my brain. I wanted to give Lola everything we’d never had. Stuff we’d only dreamed of. Vacations and dinners at one of those nicer-than-normal all-you-can-eat buffets. Maybe, I could make enough that she could be one of those women who got pedicures every once in a while. A fridge with an icemaker…
She set the Coach bag beside the sign. “You ready to be all legal and shit?” she asked, then smiled at me.
And over the past forty-eight days, nothing had made this poor boy feel more guilty than when that perfect girl smiled. She just went around, acting like nothing had happened to her. Letting me believe a lie, probably because she thought it was the only way to save me.
I had no idea how she’d done it for the past two years because my trying to keep my shit together and pretend I wasn’t broken for the past few weeks had been absolute hell.
A knot of anxiety formed in my gut, but I swallowed that bitch down. I didn’t really think Lola would leave me if she found out what I had done. Be freaked out? Absolutely. But leave me…
A string of cars pulled into the parking lot, dragging my attention away from my thoughts.
Doors slammed, and a group of women got out of one of the trucks wearing Casperville High gear.
“Turn on that bad-boy charm and put on your game face.” Lola nudged my ribs before flipping the sign from the side that read, “Support Dayton” to “Support Casperville.”
I forced my thoughts to raffling off a Coach bag. Because I wanted her to be happy. Safe and happy. “Hey, ladies.” I stroked the soft leather of the purse “Wanna chance to win a sleek, new Coach bag?”
I spotted the one giving me the eye and winked. “You’d be the envy of every mom in Casperville with this fancy thing slung over your shoulder.”
Every one of them passed over ten bucks. And so did the next group. And the next. It was easy money.
By the time everyone was inside the match, we had over a grand in hand. Over a grand of legal money.
I stared down at the stack of crisp bills, an actual sense of pride swelling in my chest. I’d never, in my life, earned honest money. “Count that.” I passed the money over to Lola, and she thumbed through the cash.