Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
And then, like just the sound of his voice was enough to set things right, the sound of his voice actually sets things right.
The age and dust of the place disappears and it’s just… the feed store barn from a few weeks ago.
I blink. Look over at Pie, who is also blinking. Then we look at each other. “Did we imagine that?”
She shakes her head. “Unless it was some kind of mutual delusion, that’s a no. We saw it.”
“Saw what?” Batty snaps.
I point at him. “Shut up. I liked you much better when I couldn’t understand you. Don’t speak to us again. Just… fly home. We don’t need you.”
He presses his monster lips together, like he’s holding his tongue, then lets out a breath. “Ya know what? Fine. You’re on your own.” And then he flings himself up into the air and disappears.
“Wow.” Pie looks up at me. “I hate to say this, but—”
“He needs to go?”
“He might.”
I just grin. “Come on. I don’t know what’s going on. But this is good hay. The town is… just the town. And whatever we saw inside the feed store was a vision that can be sorted out later.”
Pie backs the truck into the barn and I toss bales into the bed. We secure it all with ratchet ties, and then head out of town, neither of us looking at the red neon light in the bar window.
We’re pretty quiet on the way back, so my thoughts wander to the spell that Pie did. She didn’t plan that spelling. She didn’t even know it was going to happen. And it scared her, so I can only assume that this is not the first time it’s happened.
I’m just about to open this topic up for conversation when Pie says, “What the hell is that?”
She’s pointing to a large blue school bus pulled over on the side of the road up ahead. There seems to be a problem with the tire and there is a teenage kid pumping up a jack and a woman pacing back and forth on the road next to him.
“Should we stop and help?”
I shoot Pie a look.
“What? That woman might need help.”
“Looks like she’s got it covered.”
Pie wants to protest, but I press on the gas to speed up. We’re not stopping.
She looks out her window as we pass, then she gasps. “Holy shit! Pull over! Right now!”
“What? Why?”
“That’s… Jacqueline!”
CHAPTER THREE – PIE
I first met Jacqueline Larue when I was fourteen and we were staying in the same foster home back in Philly. I liked her immediately, mostly because no one else did. Everything about Jacqueline is way too much for most people. She’s too tall, she’s too buxom, she’s too loud, she’s too pretty, she’s too smart, and she’s too determined.
If Jacqueline Larue wants something, she just goes out and gets it. And just like that, she will change her life in an instant.
She’s always been that way.
She is a natural redhead. And that hair of hers is something a goddess dreamed up, that’s how gorgeous it is. Not orange or auburn—but cinnamon. Naturally wavy, never a hint of frizz, and it falls all the way down to her butt like a waterfall flowing over a mountainside. I have never seen her in anything else but a pair of soft denim jeans and cotton t-shirts or thermals. And that’s exactly what she’s wearing underneath her black leather biker jacket covered in zippers and band buttons as I stand here, on the side of a rural PA road, and take her in.
“Pie.” She practically moans my name, and it comes out Pahhhh, in that little-bit-hick accent she’s got.
“Jacqueline? What the hell are you doing out here? And… where’s your couch?”
I don’t know why, but I can’t speak, or even think, Jacqueline’s name without seeing a made-up version of her couch in my head at the same time. It was my last hope for a while there. And even though a couple months have gone by since I really needed to hold on to that bit of hope where sleeping on her couch and not being homeless was the best I could expect in life, I still, for some reason, keep that couch in close association with Jacqueline’s name.
My weird question does not faze Jacqueline Larue in the least. She just puts her arms out wide and comes at me like a bull. The next thing I know, I’m gettin’ a bear hug. She squeezes me tight, and it lasts a long time as far as hugs go.
I let out a long breath during this hug. And I kinda let myself relax into her giant boobs. When we break apart, I’m almost sad this greeting is over.
She pushes me out to arm’s length, then looks me up and down. Jacqueline’s scrutiny makes me squirm. Whenever I leave the sanctuary these days, no matter what I’m wearing before I walk through that gate, I’m always wearing the slutty schoolgirl outfit. I don’t get a say in this. And I’m not sure what it means, but I’m also pretty sure some god or goddess is fucking with me and using this outfit to do it.