Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“Chip, you wanna come here and finish my food?” I crammed my mouth full first, not ready to let go. Petey made the best steaks, medium-rare on the side of rare, and even the shit he put in the salad was delicious. Olive oil and some secret seasoning.
Our steaks on the menu were pricey as fuck, because they were the one food item we didn’t mess around with. Top quality, organic, and came straight here from local farmers to our Yelp and Tripadvisor reviewers.
“I can always eat!” Chip pummeled toward me, then came to a screeching stop as he stared at the plate. “Can I leave the veggies?”
“No, they’re good for you. They’ll make you big and strong—and it keeps Mommy off my back.”
“But there’s so much of it, man,” he whispered.
I grinned and switched places with him, and I pushed in his chair. “This is what you do.” I showed him my trick and stabbed the salad with the fork. “Like this.” Got some good bits of lettuce, cucumber, and tomato on there. “Then you add steak.” I put my fork in there and cut around the meat. “Now you have perfection and blah on the same fork, but the blah won’t taste as much because you have the perfection in the same mouthful. You should write this down. It’s what we call a life hack.”
I wasn’t completely stupid. I did the cutting for him. Small pieces so he didn’t choke.
“I can write my name, Mommy, and some stuff!”
“You want a trophy for that? Please.” I dipped down and smooched his cheek. “Eat up. I’ll be back in a bit. And you know what to do if you need help.”
He smiled goofily and nodded.
“Say the rule, chipster.”
“I open the door and yell for Julie or Tonya or Petey cuz they get me goodies and call for you.”
I was actually gonna leave the door open, but yeah.
“That’s what’s up.” I held out my fist, and he bumped it with his in the triumphant spirit reserved for a Cubs win. “I’ll hurry.”
I grabbed my parka on the way out, then gloves by the back door, and I asked Julie to keep an eye on Chip. Four large garbage bags had been left in the narrow space, so I squeezed by and eyed my opponent.
Holding down the handle with a small push did nothing.
Shoulder-checking the fuck out of the door…
We have a winner.
I grunted as the door gave away with a half-frozen crunch, and I was immediately bitch-slapped by a wall of icy cold.
I threw the first two bags off the stoop, partly to measure the depth of the snow in the alley. A solid two feet, I’d say.
Christ, I had to do something about this tomorrow. It wasn’t like the owners of the place on the other side gave a shit about clearing snow; they’d filed for bankruptcy before the holidays. Now some swanky fusion restaurant was opening in a couple months.
I wrestled the other two bags outside, and I aimed for the dumpsters in the back.
On the way, I threw a scowl up at the lights that should work. One outside our kitchen exit, another closer to the mouth of the alley, which was our side entrance to the Green—and our soup kitchen—and lastly, the lamp outside the door that led up to my place. The bulbs had needed to be replaced for about two years now.
It was on the list.
And I might need to bump that up on the priority scale, ’cause I couldn’t see shit out here aside from snow and contrasts.
I did always carry a flashlight in my back pocket, but that was more for tactical reasons. It had enough lumens to disorient an attacker for a few seconds in complete darkness, and I didn’t need more than that to either get the upper hand or make my escape.
I was the same with hookups. Gimme five seconds after we were done, and I was gone.
Through curses, kicks, and labored breaths, I dragged the garbage bags through the snow and over to the first of the three dumpsters—and I came up with an answer for the few times people asked how I stayed in good shape when I worked with deep-fried sports-bar food all day. This was fucking why. Taking out the trash was a frigid workout that had the same results as me going to the gym. Only, there I got pissed off because I wasn’t a fan of people. Here, I got pissed off because now my shoes were wet.
“Sorry, boss. Here’s two more!” I heard Tonya holler.
“Motherfucker,” I cursed under my breath.
The workout continued. At least I didn’t have to worry about recycling and sorting shit with these bags. I returned to the stoop and grabbed—
“Please…”
I released the bags and instantly turned to the opening of the alley, where I spotted a dark form hunched against the wall.