Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
“One pound each,” Charlie says in reply.
Tom drops a plastic takeout carton on the table. Gotta hand it to the Cobalts. They don’t fuck around. It also dawns on me that these cards are an elaborate, twisted game of Truth or Dare.
I can put down a 48oz steak no problem. Jane, on the other hand, isn’t as big of a carnivore. She eats burnt hockey pucks for burgers.
Jane mutters to herself, “It’s just a little rabbit. You like cooked goose.” I listen to my girlfriend’s pep talk while I pop the lid.
I grit down, the gamey stench of meat hitting my nostrils like a slap to the face.
Jane pinches her nose. “Is it raw?”
“It’s cooked enough,” Eliot assures.
Fresh road kill would smell and look better than what stares back at us. Blood drips off rare, greasy pieces of heart. Collecting in pools at the bottom of the carton.
Jane ties her hair back. “Where’s a fork?”
“Wait,” Ben says, anger hacksawing his blue eyes. He pivots to Charlie. “You said you’d throw out this card.”
“Oh fuck,” Sulli says too loudly, her voice audible from the bar.
“I said I’d think about it.” Charlie flips his phone in his palm.
Beckett places a comforting hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Thatcher and Jane aren’t vegan like yo—”
“It doesn’t matter!” Ben yells. “You should all respect my feelings on the consumption of animals. This didn’t have to happen!” He points at the hearts and then whips around on me. “Don’t eat it.”
Sulli was right.
Oh fuck.
I need to make a hard call. Eat the rabbit and piss off Ben. Will he hold this against me forever?
Or I could just not complete the card and irritate Charlie, Beckett, Eliot, and Tom. Before I even move, Ben tells his brothers, “How would you like it if I cracked your ribcage and tore out your heart?”
Charlie rips open the last buttons of his white shirt. Bare chest and toned abs in view. “Go ahead.”
Eliot unpockets a switchblade, twirls the knife, and stakes it on the wooden table near Ben.
“No,” Jane scolds.
I tear the knife out of the wood and snap the blade closed with a quick hand. I shove the weapon in my back pocket.
“Murder-blocker,” Tom quips.
“The worst,” Eliot jokes.
I nod and breathe out of my nose. “Symbolic death and brothers might be your afternoon tea, but it’s my nightmare.”
They don’t know it’s one I’ve met. Sky’s death still isn’t public fact. But I have another brother, and that nightmare exists for us. If I lost Banks…
Just kill me.
You’d think Eliot and Tom Cobalt are all humor, but they can turn a switch quickly and they voice their understanding.
Ben goes to steal the rabbit carton.
Charlie pushes him back. “Let Thatcher decide.”
I look between the Cobalt brothers.
Choose.
I dip my head down to Jane. “I’m eating it.”
“Me too,” she whispers with a wince. She feels for Ben.
I tug the plastic container closer to us.
Ben makes a noise like I impaled him. “Don’t eat it, please.”
I shake my head in apology, my muscles tensed up, and Eliot starts telling us that we need to eat with our hands and divide the meat in half.
Ben swerves towards the bar with urgency. “Moffy!” He speaks in fluent Spanish to Maximoff, and I can’t translate that much.
I wouldn’t be able to list off which other Cobalts know Spanish. Not all of them advertise the depth of their knowledge.
I’m just positive that Jane only knows French.
Charlie rolls his eyes in aggravation. “Maximoff can’t change this, Ben.”
We’re heading towards a clusterfuck.
Behind me, I sense Maximoff standing up from the barstool. He talks to Ben in Spanish, and Beckett is rubbing his younger brother’s back in soothing circles.
“Can’t you just skip this card, Charlie?” Maximoff gestures to the table. “Ben is uncomfortable—”
“Life is uncomfortable,” Charlie sneers. “Stop trying to save him.”
Maximoff glowers. “Jesus, man.” He tries to cool off before igniting a war with Charlie that they’ve put to rest this past year.
Jane leans in and whispers to me, “We should eat before this worsens.”
“Copy.” I pinch the bloodied heart and pop it in my mouth like candy. Gristly. I grind hard. It’s not filet mignon, but I’m not slow to chew and swallow. I grab another heart before Jane can even touch one.
Ben slumps back, sullen, and he angles into Beckett. Me eating also diffuses a Charlie and Maximoff feud.
Jane plugs her nose while dropping meat on her tongue. She squirms. “Eh, that is…not… pleasant.” She coughs in a fist. “The odor is foul.”
“Hold on.” I pop three more nugget-sized hearts in my mouth and stand up. I chew on my hike to the bar. I have blinders.
I’m not looking at Tony. But I hear him snickering. Fuck him.
I mime water to my brother.
Banks extends his body halfway over the bar. Reaching the fridge beneath. On stools, Farrow and Oscar start clapping for me. Like I’m in some fucked-up, backwoods hot dog eating contest.