Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 31869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me, swallowing around stupid unshed tears. Ugh. Get a grip, emotions. Come on.
“Yep. I’ll talk to you later.”
“I love you, Win.”
“Love you too, Wes.”
Despite the disappointments and difficulties of the day, I knew I was one fortunate woman because I had a man I could always count on. But I couldn’t deny that, with the way things were stacking up, getting out of the city and going somewhere fun was starting to sound like a better idea by the second.
And even though I didn’t want to risk the chance of draining my battery on a text conversation. I couldn’t resist stealing a quick glance at what Cassie and Georgia had to say.
Cassie: I FEEL LIKE I’M LIVING INSIDE SATAN’S ASSHOLE.
Georgia: Thank you, Cass. What a lovely visual you’ve just presented me.
Cassie: I can’t help it. It’s hot as balls, and Thatch left me to help Wes with his meat, so I don’t have anyone to complain to right now. If New York doesn’t turn on her fucking power soon, I’m leaving the bitch. I don’t care how much history we have.
I laughed. And it looks like I’m not the only one liking the idea of seeking refuge someplace with some damn A/C.
“How much beef can one man have? Fucking hell,” Thatch complained, lugging yet another cooler full of meat toward our one working refrigerator.
I rolled my eyes and sighed, wondering why I’d asked him to come in the first place. “It’s bison, not beef, and we were expecting three hundred people for this event. Even with slider-sized burgers, the chef predicted we’d need at least forty pounds.”
“Don’t listen to him, Wes. He’s just upset because of the blackouts,” Kline mused with a smirk. “Apparently, Cassie hasn’t let him near the promised land in half a dozen days. Mind you, I wish that wasn’t information I knew, but it’s hard to ignore this big bastard when he’s bitching.”
I laughed, knowing full well Thatch was impossible to ignore, no matter what ridiculous TMI-shit he was spouting, but then I paused and tilted my head to the side. “Wait…Six days? The blackouts have only been going on for two.”
Kline laughed uproariously. “I know.” Turning to Thatch, Kline gestured back toward me. “Go ahead, tell him, T. Tell him what you did to get yourself in the doghouse before all this started.”
“You act like you wouldn’t love it if my Ace was the next Neil Peart.” Thatch snorted. “So fucking shortsighted. I mean, how else are we going to get free tickets to concerts if I don’t get him started now? Huh? Tell me that.”
“You’re shitting me, right?” I stared at him, my jaw slightly opened. “You got your one-year-old a set of drums in the hopes that he’ll grow up to be some kind of drumming rock star who can score you free tickets to concerts?”
Considering that Ace was basically Thatch’s mini-me, it was highly concerning that the world would even be put through having that kind of man front and center for all sorts of people to look up to and worship.
“You bet your asshole, I did,” Thatch responded without any sense of realization of what he was trying to foist on humanity. “And he’s pretty good, too. If you wear headphones and hang out at the opposite end of the apartment.”
I shook my head on a laugh. “Man, I thought I knew the depths of your stupidity, but I can see now, I’ve never really known. No wonder your wife cut off your water.”
“She didn’t cut me off. She’s temporarily suspended the flow.”
I guffawed. “Poor baby. So much denial, so little sex.”
Thatch tossed up a middle finger over his shoulder and dragged the cooler to a stop in the corner of the walk-in. “I would have managed my way back to Cassie’s Promised Land two days ago if all of Manhattan hadn’t decided to go Amish. Now she’s worried about the freshness factor of the coochie-cooch. I’m not discouraged, but she’s had a goddamn box fan pointed between her legs for thirty-six of the last forty-eight hours.”
“Please don’t talk about your wife’s coochie-cooch in my presence ever again,” I requested queasily. “Or use the term coochie-cooch. That’s off-limits too.”
Kline laughed.
Thatch just glared at me. “Fuck off, Wesley. I’m only in your presence because you asked for my help. If you can’t handle a little reality, you have no business asking me for favors.”
Shit.
Even though Thatch could be one annoying motherfucker, the last thing I wanted to be was a dick to one of my best friends while he was helping me out with this disaster.
“Look…” I paused and ran a frustrated hand through my slightly sweaty hair. “I appreciate you guys coming to help out, I do. I’m just stressed. We’ve put a lot of time and effort into this barbecue, and it’s all going down the shitter.”