Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 140629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Bitterness tingled at the back of his tongue and trailed to the pit of his stomach where it slowly turned into an inferno that had him hitting the horn and driving way too fast in Gunner’s useless piece of junk.
He was gay. So was Gunner. They’d both enjoyed each other’s bodies throughout the day, and there was nothing wrong about that. To have that thrown into his face as an insult made him want to find the piece of shit and charge at him.
But when he parked by Gunner’s trailer and saw that the lights were on inside, he knew there was another problem he needed to face.
The ex-girlfriend Gunner couldn’t get rid of. Caspian left the vehicle with a sense of purpose and jumped up the three steps with his blood already pumping faster. Enough was enough.
Sandy was sitting in front of the TV and eating chips as he entered, but her face twisted the moment she spotted him. She looked like a demon about to pounce him and eat his soul.
“You can’t watch The Beach Bachelor with me. You’ve been a shit all day, and left me with no money.”
“Why didn’t you go get yourself a job and earn some yourself? You sit on your ass all fucking day,” Caspian barked, taking in the messy kitchen. If Gunner was the one bringing money home, shouldn’t she at least have the decency to keep the small trailer relatively clean?
Sandy threw the chips to the sofa, and Caspian cringed when some of them scattered and rolled to the floor. “Oh yeah? And who fed Fluffer, huh?” She got up, spreading her arms, as if she were the threat, and he—someone who should cower.
Had Gunner really been such a pussycat with her? Caspian bet she was staying here rent-free too.
“You fed a cat. That’s the only thing you’ve done all day long? Are you high?” he asked, staring her down, because while Gunner might not have known how to deal with this cash-sponge, Caspian had no fucks left to give.
She shifted her weight and cocked her head as if she were seeing him for the first time. “Well, yeah. But just on weed.”
“This isn’t working for me. Pack your bags,” he said, guided by the fury singing in his veins. He wanted to smash something, but getting rid of this annoying fly was the next best thing.
She folded her arms on her chest. “You’ve gotta be kidding me! I put up with your bullshit for a year, and you’re throwing me out?”
“Evidently.”
“Oh yeah? Just watch me then! This is the last straw!” She licked the orange chip dust from her fingers and scooted down. With one tug, she pulled the TV cable out of the plug.
“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Caspian asked, thrown off guard.
“This is mine. You told me to pack my bags, and that’s what I’m doing,” she said and dragged over a chair, which she climbed on so abruptly the top of her nipple peeked from above the tube top she was wearing, as if her breast were fighting for its freedom.
This made zero sense. Gunner would have had a television of his own. And even if it belonged to her, for reasons he could only speculate about, Gunner had earned it back ten times over, if he’d been supporting her unproductive lifestyle all along.
“I’m vetoing this. Leave the TV, or we’re gonna have a serious conversation,” he said, unsure how to act. He could have just punched another guy, but what was he to do about a woman? He’d been taught to be respectful, but it wasn’t working.
“You barely use it” she yelled, not caring that the neighbors would hear her through the thin walls. “If you want me out, you can live without your precious British Bake Off. And by the way, I know you’ve been using my shampoo, and I’ll be taking that too!”
She slid off the chair and walked straight at Caspian with the screen tucked to her chest.
He did the one thing that came to his mind and blocked her way. “You will place the TV back on the table and go pack your personal things. Do not play with me,” he added, because it seemed like the right thing to say.
Sandy pursed her lips, turned around, and… threw the TV at the table. The flat screen landed on the edge and cracked in the middle, while a piece of black plastic broke off its frame when it collapsed to the floor.
“There! Your precious TV! All yours! And on the table, like you always wanted,” she screeched and grabbed the packet of crisps. “I guess these are yours too, huh?”
Before Caspian could react, she dipped her hand into the packet, then threw crushed chips at him.
What. The. Fuck. This woman was feral!