Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 126840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
The wall and print changed the entire room and it was fucking fantastic.
He walked in to get a closer look and stopped again, because his TV was now set into a dark gray media unit that had glass front cupboards at the bottom and shelves on the sides and above the TV.
He got closer and saw she’d taken the books that he had stacked in one of the bedrooms, because he didn’t have anywhere to put them, and set them in those shelves. One of the frames she’d bought had a picture of Nanook being a good boy, sitting and smiling up at her behind the camera. Holding the books in place were simple, black bookends, but there was a chrome mudflap girl leaning back into one hand to hold up one line of books.
Though she wasn’t a traditional mudflap girl. She had the tits and legs, but she had a ponytail in her hair, was wearing a skirt and had one hand up, reading a book.
Last, alone on a shelf, there was a big square book that said 100 Years at the top and had the orange Harley Davidson logo in the middle.
Core moved to it, grabbed it and flipped it open to see text and pictures of the story of Harley Davidson Motorcycles.
His throat was fucked-up when he put it back and did a turn to take it all in again.
He’d grown up in a trailer, and when his mom left his dad, they’d moved to another trailer. They had the basics, and not much more, and those were purchased at Goodwill, the Salvation Army or thrift stores, and these included his clothes and hers.
His mom had two jobs for as long as Core was able to understand the concept, one was as a waitress in a truck stop and the other was as a bartender in a seedy bar, so she was hardly raking it in at either.
Didn’t matter she didn’t make much, they had even less when his dad rode up against a tough time, which was a lot since the man never bothered to hold down a job.
In those times, he’d come over and demand what was in her wallet.
He’d then beat her to shit or sweet talk her into going with him to her bedroom, something that also happened a lot, not because she wanted it, but because she didn’t want him to beat her to shit.
Core had learned to take off when they were back there because he didn’t want to hear his mom and dad fuck. Or, what he understood later was happening, his dad coercing his mother into nonviolent rape.
Though when he got older, and more importantly bigger, the night happened where he made it plain he wasn’t going to put up with his father’s visits again.
He’d had some practice fighting by then, but his old man was an easy win, being a man wasted by booze who could only make himself feel like a man by beating a woman and intimidating her into taking his dick.
After that, all that shit stopped for nearly a year.
It had been a golden time for him and his mom. The only one they’d ever had. He’d gotten a job helping one of his bud’s dad’s roofing business during the summer, and with his first check, he’d bought her a brand-new dress.
When he went back to school, it was the first time she bought him new jeans, shirts and sneakers.
It was also the first time girls gave a shit about him, and he didn’t have to beat bloody anyone who gave him crap about being poor as dirt and living in a trailer. Though he’d spent years making that message clear, there was always some fuck who needed it told to him.
That golden time ended when his father came back for one last epic round, doing it at a time when Core wasn’t there, and Core knew he planned that shit.
After that, it was over forever.
Kiki had some skills with making a house a home, but she was into a more country-type vibe and Core didn’t like it. He never said anything because he didn’t really give that much of a fuck. He was just happy to have a good woman and a home to go to.
He couldn’t say this was his thing either, exactly, probably because he never took time to figure what his thing was.
And still, it kicked ass.
From what he could see, it had Hellen written all over it, since she decorated in all grays and blacks and whites at her place too.
But the truth of it was, it was her and it was him. It took the invitation to stay awhile of his furniture, her pillows and his TV and added a style that was hers, but it was also just him.