Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“God, my poor neighbors,” I mumble as I bend to shave my legs. The music’s so loud it’s vibrating a little, bouncing around my pink-and-black-tiled shower. Robert Smith whines about pictures of you. It’s one of Doug’s favorite songs.
As I become more relaxed, I hum and shave the other leg. A sense of comfort surrounds me—I have Doug and he will never let anything bad happen to me.
We met the first day I showed up at cosmetology school. I looked up into his sad brown eyes, which mirrored mine, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. He’s told me all his secrets and I told him mine. We’re the best together, each of us accepting the other’s crazy with no judgment.
He’s twenty-one, bisexual, and sexy as fuck. I adore him. His tall, thin body makes both sexes go wild. Lately, he’s been sporting the Jim Morrison look.
My shower door clicks open; the vintage flamingo on the glass makes me happy. Reminds me of an old Hollywood movie or something. Doug stands with his phone in one hand texting as he hands me a Bud Lite.
“Aww, I love you,” I say and take a quick guzzle. I love to drink in the shower. It’s fun.
He glances up. “I think you should wear the low-cut silver lamé dress I got for you.” Pocketing his phone, he takes a swig of beer and points the bottle at me. “With red pumps.”
“Love it. Now get out. You’re letting the cold air mess up my relaxing shower.”
“You want me to order pizza before we go?” He rolls his neck, ignoring me as he drinks his beer.
“Not if you want me wearing that slip of a dress.”
He nods. “You’re right. Our dinner will be tequila. I’m going to make a phone call. Hurry up.”
I turn, grab my shampoo, and lather my short hair. The first thing I did after I graduated was cut off all my long dark hair.
I cried, but I think it was my best therapy yet.
Turning off the water, I step out. For some reason, I can’t shake my unease.
It’s so weird. I’ve been like this for days. At first, I thought it had to do with my parents. So, I broke down and called my mom, but everything was the same with them.
The only gossip she had was that since Chuckie took over as president, a lot of the guys are not happy. I guess they wanted Jason or Blade to take over. As soon as Jason got patched into the Disciples, he was called Blade. Jason is now gone. No one is allowed to call him anything but Blade.
Whatever, I couldn’t care less. It’s been a year and a half since I’ve seen any of them. They never checked on me. As soon as Edge got locked up, they were gone.
I guess I was simply a girl Edge loved… or thought he loved. I sit down on the cool toilet seat as my heart starts to race. Thinking about my past depresses me so I try to avoid it.
“Get it together, Dolly,” I mumble. It’s hard to think about him, or I’ll break out in a cold sweat. Putting the back of my hand to my forehead, I try to breathe.
I’m so sick of this, so sick of all my baggage. My unfinished business. It’s like a monkey on my back, but instead of smack, it’s Edge.
Standing up, I drop the towel and lather my body with some lotion. After I open the door to let the steam out, I grab one of my black G-strings.
Doug is pacing in a small circle in my apartment. That’s all the space we have in my place. He’s like my hero—he takes no crap from anyone. Doesn’t matter who you are. I think it has to do with his family. They’re super religious. They would not accept him and beat him and all kinds of fucked-up shit.
There’s a sadness about him, but it’s made him a fighter, reminding me that I’m a fighter too. Simply because Edge was always there to hold my hand doesn’t mean I’ll collapse now without him.
My hands go to my neck as I gently rub the small scars. Sometimes I still scratch myself when I sleep. It’s more like I claw myself, but Karen likes to say “scratch,” so let’s go with that. It’s likely the real reason my dad got me this tiny apartment. That way, he doesn’t have to be reminded that his daughter is fucked up.
I walk around Doug, not caring that my bedroom is the size of a shoebox. It’s cute: I painted it all pinks and yellows. Doug plops down on the end of my bed.
“Michael, I don’t have time for this. If you want me to suck your cock during your break tonight, make sure Dolly and I are on the VIP list. And I want drinks all night.”