Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“It’s Dad.” He accepted the call. “What’s up?” Frank was saying something I couldn’t hear. Maybe he had a job for us. Rex and I had been working deals for him since we were fourteen years old—scams since before that. “No shit? I hate that motherfucker.”
Shit. That was all we needed tonight, for Rex to drag us into a fight with someone he thought did him dirty in one way or another.
“I’m with Riv. We’ll be right there.” He ended the call, grabbed his keys, and jumped down. “That piece of shit Jerry Wilson is at Uncle Bill’s bar. Dad said he’s drunk as hell and running his mouth again. I’m gonna beat that piece of shit’s ass.”
Jerry was a few years older than us, and we’d never gotten along with him. Rex was right. He was a piece of shit. He always had something to say and had tried to get us in trouble more than once. Still, I wasn’t feeling this plan to drive to the bar and kick the shit out of him.
“Fuck that. I have better things to do with my time than race down to deal with Jerry.”
“Like sitting in the back of my truck, nursing the same beer all night? Shut up and get into the truck, Riv.”
“Fuck you. I don’t answer to you.”
“Fine, then stay out here all night. You’ve been weird about shit lately. What’s your problem?”
I don’t know. But it was clear I had one. I should go make sure that someone like Jerry Wilson didn’t always have my name in his mouth. Jerry didn’t give a fuck about me…and Rex did. He might be an idiot, but he was my best friend. He always had my back. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t have his?
“You’re high and drunk. Let me drive.” I jumped down too just as Rex threw me his keys. I said a silent thank-you that I didn’t have to argue with him about getting behind the wheel. Sometimes I did. I might screw around with a lot of stuff, but driving drunk or high wasn’t one of them.
It took us about thirty minutes to get to Bill’s bar, the Homestead. A part of me was hoping Jerry was gone, while another didn’t want to miss him. There was an itch beneath my skin that I didn’t know how to soothe, that I never knew how to soothe, and sometimes fighting helped ease it for a little while—fighting or fucking or drugs.
It always came back, though.
“Holy shit! It’s like Christmas! Look!” Rex grabbed my arm as I pulled into a parking spot, and there was Jerry, alone, pissing beside his car. “Woohoo!” Rex beat his hands down on the dashboard, over and over, like it was a drum.
There was an electric current coming off him that didn’t feel healthy, didn’t feel good at all, this twinge in the air telling me I had to put a stop to this.
“Let’s get out of here,” I told him.
He whipped his head in my direction. “Why you bein’ such a bitch lately? You my boy or not?” I was, or at least I was supposed to be. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, why I was acting like this shit was a big deal, so when he said, “We’re doing this,” I got out of the truck with him. “Guess who, motherfucker!” Rex singsonged at the guy like he was in a princess movie or something.
Jerry turned around and stumbled. He was clearly drunk off his ass, and why the hell was Bill letting him leave like that, instead of making sure he wasn’t driving home?
“So I hear you have a big mouth,” Rex told him. “Saying shit that’s none of your business about me and mine.”
“Fuck you,” Jerry spit at him.
“No, fuck you,” I countered.
“Aw, if it isn’t Rex and Frank’s little errand boy. Don’t have a daddy of your own, so you pretend Frank Hunt gives a shit about you.”
Anger built inside me, a volcano seconds away from erupting. There was a voice inside my head telling me that what he said was partly true. I did do a lot of shit for Frank, but it was because I wasn’t as big of a loose cannon as Rex. I didn’t mess up the way he did, and I didn’t have the same big mouth. And he’d rather come to me instead of Parrish because for whatever reason, he trusted me more. Frank did give a shit about me.
“Kiss my ass, you piece of shit. I don’t give a fuck what you think.”
Rex started laughing, which distracted me for a moment, enough for Jerry to take a swing at me. His fist connected with my face, pain shooting through my right eye.
“Motherfucker!” pushed past my lips as I swung back, his lip splitting open, his blood on my knuckles. Jerry tried to charge me, but I dodged him. “Stop. You’re smashed. I don’t want to hurt you.” He tried to turn, stumbled, and made a second attempt to charge me but missed again. He was way too drunk for this, and someone was going to get hurt.