Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
“Go, woman, before I change my mind and make you stay to help fold laundry. Love you,” she says as I grab my bag out of the locker we set up in the break room. That was done after one of the girls who used to work here was caught with one of Wylder’s then security team members trying to steal from the casino. Now we each have locks with a code, the code its own unique one to keep our stuff safe. Not that there’s a problem now, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.
“Ew, please don’t change your mind. I already have a pile of laundry to do when I get home. I promise I’ll pay you back. Go call Wylder,” I toss over my shoulder as I head down the hall, ready to blow this popsicle stand, talk to the man who’s been taking control of my every waking moment as well as when I’m asleep. Jesus, the dreams and fantasies I wake up from have me riddled with desire, going as far as almost calling Mace to help sate my need.
TWENTY-ONE
Mace
It’s been a week since I’ve been inside Tyra. Seeing her only while Von is around makes it hard to do more than share a few stolen kisses. That’s why next weekend, Von is going to Tyra’s parents. I’m taking her out. I’d rather do it this weekend, but seeing how that would be poor planning on my part, not giving anyone enough notice, it would be difficult. Next time, neither of us will be driving, so we can both have a few drinks, and I won’t have to worry about picking up whichever car the next morning.
“Hey, bud, what do you say we call your mom and see if she wants to join us for pizza tonight?” I fish to see where Von’s at and if he’ll mind spending our night with Tyra. We’ve been doing this almost every other night this week. He seems to be thriving, not like he wasn’t before. Tyra made sure of that, but there’s more smiling happening in everyone’s life now that I’ve set boundaries for work and am truly trying my hardest to get us back to where we used to be.
“That’s a great idea. Can we all go swimming, too?” I make a mental note that the next place we all move into together either has a small pool in the backyard or a community pool. One that’s not so ostentatious and riddled with country club members. Yeah, I succumbed to that bullshit with the last house. Not one of my finer moments to say the least.
“If Mom says it’s okay, we’ll do that. Remember, don’t push if she says no. Your mom has been working all week, and she might be tired.” Fuck knows I am. I’m doing double the work in half the time these days.
“Alright. I say we put our bathing suits on and walk over. That way, it’s harder for her to say no.” Smooth-talking son of mine.
“That’s not a bad idea. Go grab your trunks. I’ll do the same after you get dressed.” He turns around, a sweaty mess from the after-school care program he’s in. He was out on the playground when I picked him up, disappointed because it’s Friday. The school usually holds a small ice cream party, and I interrupted, which means tonight, I’ll be in for a hot fudge sundae if not a banana split.
I grab my phone out of my pocket, firing off a text to warn Tyra in case she’s not into a pool evening after working all day.
Me: Hey, siren, we have a little boy scheming his way into a pizza and pool night. He’d like for you to join us. Feel up to it?
Not expecting her to answer right away seeing as how she’s still at work, I don’t think anything of it for Tyra not to respond right away. Moseying it the fridge to make sure I don’t need to order groceries in the way of ice cream as well as pizza, I place my phone on the counter. If I’m going to place an order, I may want to do it all in one fell swoop instead of paying the delivery fee just for tonight’s ice cream, and seeing as how Von will be home all weekend, food is very much on the agenda.
“Dad, I need help!” Von’s voice echoes through the mostly empty apartment. Furniture and shit like that still aren’t on the top of my list, priority wise. There are more important things in life, my son and his mother for one, and then work. Material shit is just that—material. It doesn’t matter how much is in your bank account. What matters is the people you surround yourself with.
“What could you possibly need help with?” I walk into the bedroom we share and hold my stomach as I laugh. There, in the middle of the room, is Von, shorts lower than the boxer briefs he prefers to wear, not that I blame him. No man wants his junk flopping around or so tight it cuts off circulation. That’s not what has me busting a gut laughing. His shirt is stuck over his head, the navy-blue polo shirt he has to wear along with his khakis for the private school he’s in is stuck.