Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
“Fuck you,” Larry spits. “I’ll go see Hugh myself. I’ll tell him I need a few days.”
James chuckles. “I wouldn’t but it’s up to you. The deal’s on the table. Take it or leave it.”
Larry stands there. The office is about as silent as I’ve ever known it, and I realize with some amusement that the music in the main hall has stopped. So everyone—strippers, wait staff, Tiny, clientele—are all listening in? Good. Let them hear this.
“You always did like money,” I say, and reach out to push the bag across the table to Larry. Then I pull the contracts and a pen out of my pocket, all written up by my lawyer in the last couple of hours. All above board.
Larry’s lip curls in a snarl, but he grabs the pen out of my hand.
And in ten minutes he’s scurrying away like the rat that he is, with a bag full of cash and a target on his back if he ever sets foot in this city again.
“Scumbag,” Lula’s mom says, and I know she’s talking about him, but I flinch at the word.
Time to make things right.
I grab the contract for Metal Heads and hand it to James. We shake hands and he heads out of the room, and then I hand the rest of the stack to Lula.
“Thanks,” she mutters. She flicks through the pages, then frowns and holds most of them out to me. “What am I going to do with three strip clubs and a car wash, Scotch?”
“Whatever you want. Close them. Burn them to the ground. Sell them. You deserve something.”
“Did you really not know what he was doing?”
“I knew what he was doing,” I say with a sigh. “Just not who he was doing it to. If I could go back and change everything…”
“You can’t,” Lula’s mom says. Then she reaches out and squeezes my arm. “But you’ve tried to make it right.” She turns to Lula. “You two need to talk. I’ll be out there drinking a half gallon of gin if anyone needs me.”
I watch her go, then turn to Lula.
“She’s right,” she says.
“I know. I don’t expect you to forgive me. It’s going to kill me to walk away from you right now, but I—”
She lunges for me, throwing her arms around my neck and squishing her mouth into mine. As she jumps up, wrapping her legs around my waist, the tears start to flow. I can’t help myself. I kiss her back. Hard. And stumble across the room to slam her against the wall as my hands go to her ass. Feeling her, touching her, it’s like a rainfall in the desert. A miracle. Life giving. Everything I could possibly want.
“Don’t ever threaten to walk away from me again,” she says between kisses.
I shake my head. “Don’t fucking worry, baby girl.”
“I can’t be without you.”
I pepper her throat with kisses, her chest, down between those perfect fucking tits. “How did I get so lucky?” I murmur.
“I know, right?” she says sarcastically, then laughs as I grind myself into her.
When we’re done, and she’s righted her clothes, we step out into the main room. Crystal—I have no idea what her real name is—steps our way with a frown on her face.
“If Larry’s gone, what’s going to happen to this place? Do we still have jobs?”
I grin and meet Lula’s eyes, then turn back to Crystal with a shrug. “No idea. Ask your new boss.”
CHAPTER 13
Scotch
Epilogue ~ Five Years Later
There’s nothing better than this.
Lula and Poppy are singing ‘Bye bye Miss American Pie’ in the bathroom while Poppy is taking a bath.
I know my wife is exhausted. She had a show last night and she’s been touring for eight months. I’m glad it’s done because I was ready to cancel the rest of the gigs when her latest pregnancy test came up positive.
Poppy is almost four. Jack is eighteen months and now, we’ve got another on the way.
We travel as a family in a tricked out tour bus and the road has its romance but home is here. This is the house Lula picked out the weekend after everything blew up and I thought I was going to lose her.
Part of my groveling included a big fucking ring on her finger and buying this twenty-five acres on a little lake thirty minutes from the garage and my other ventures.
She finished recording her album at Velvet Hammer and got a contract almost immediately. I was a motherfucker about negotiating it with about ten lawyers behind me. No one will take advantage of my wife, not while I’m breathing.
I manage her, deal with all the bullshit so she can just write songs and sing and be fucking happy.
That’s all that matters to me and I’ll still crush anyone or anything that tries to prevent that from happening.