Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“So you’re saying if I do this, forge the documents you need, then what, you’ll let me stay there when Mirna goes to Sarasota? That’s blackmail.”
“I know you’re upset but there’s no need to be racist.”
“Seriously!” I said. “What, you want me to rent it from you?” I asked, shocked by what I was holding. I didn’t give a damn about Mirna’s possessions or her house, and I could understand why I wouldn’t be the best choice to handle her affairs, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t sting.
“No, not like rent it from me.” Preppy shook his head. “If this works and we get Max back, then the house is yours, free and clear. I’ll sign it over to you and you’ll never have to worry about not having anywhere to stay ever again. And before you jump to any conclusions, I didn’t weasel the house from Mirna in some scam where I forced her to marry me or anything. I didn’t even know she was transferring the title. She just sprung this on me today.”
I was quiet for a moment. Glancing down at the paper, then out at the water again and again, without a single clear thought about what had just happened registering.
“If it helps any, your forgery skills are top notch. Where did you learn all that shit?”
“Wowed?” I asked at his strange compliment.
“Yeah and I’ve never really been WOWED before. Okay, maybe once, but it was during American Ninja Warrior, and that guy who won was an amputee and god damned war hero. You’d have to be made of fucking stone to speak during the commentators touching tribute while the camera zoomed in on his prosthetic leg and the star spangled banner played in the background.”
Her face contorted like she was about to be sick. “It’s not a wow at all. It’s not something I’m proud of, one of many things.”
I scoffed. “We’ve all done shit we’re not proud of, but for most people that involves getting drunk and doing something fun that someone else disapproves of. Most people’s ‘shit their not proud of file’ doesn’t involve forging complicated documents, though. I mean, is forgery the new thing all the kids are doing? Maybe not, because if it were a new thing then there would for sure be a porn parody about it already and since I haven’t come across anything titled Teenaged Asian Forgers Take it Real Deep, I don’t think the forgery trend is going to be all the rage anytime soon.”
“It was mostly Conner. He was always trying to literally print money. I just picked up a few things along the way,” I admitted. “I’m going to pay her back every last cent, plus interest, you know,” I said. “I know that’s THE lie a lot of users tell themselves and others in order to follow through with whatever bad idea they had in mind, but I really am going to pay her back.”
Preppy pushed off the hood. “I believe you,” he said, with actual sincerity in his voice. “Think of how much faster you’ll be able to do that when you don’t gotta worry about a roof over your head.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”
Preppy was right, as much as I hated to admit it. I took his hand. “Deal.” When I tried to let go, he pulled me between his legs and wrapped his hands around my waist. “A handshake is so informal. We should seal this deal with a fuck. That sounds much more official don’t you agree?”
I shook my head.
I pushed off his shoulders. “You know, sometimes I’m not sure when you’re serious.”
“Oh, well that’s easy to figure out. I’m always sometimes joking in a way that’s honest.”
“Totally cleared that up.”
“Glad I could help,” Preppy said as we both got back in the car. He started the engine.
“I could go to prison for this you know,” I stated, and although I intended for it to be an argument, I found myself smiling.
Preppy blew out a breath. “Minimum security, doesn’t even count.”
“I can’t believe I just agreed to forge documents when I told myself I’d never do it again,” I lamented.
Preppy put the car in reverse. “Don’t think of it that way then.”
“How would you have me think of it then?”
He wagged his eyebrows. “Think of it as coloring outside the lines.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DRE
“Where are the shoes? I thought we’d agreed that you’d wear the FUCK-ME heels?” he asked, when he saw me sitting on the rocker on the front porch in a pair of 50’s style, denim, high-waisted cut off’s with buttons on the front and a white ‘wife-beater’ style tank top that showed a small sliver of skin on my midsection. I’d opted for plain white Keds instead of my precious heels, which I seriously considered bubble wrapping for safe keeping.