Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
I rap on the door, waiting for one of the many house service people to answer. Jude and Grandpa rarely answer their own door. And if Jude does answer, it’s to send you away because he can be an asshole like that. Seconds later, the door swings open and a tall, thin man answers. He’s about as old as Grandpa but a lot friendlier.
“Anderson,” I greet. “Looking good, man.”
Anderson grins, his white mustache bouncing up comically on each corner of his mouth. “Miss Violet’s been fattening me up with her world-famous pies. I could have her bring you a slice if you’re hungry.”
Pie would erase the taste of pussy from my mouth and I’m okay with that. “I’d like that. Where’s Jude?”
Anderson chuckles. “Mr. Park is in Mission Control. World domination is a full-time job.”
I smirk as I pass by him to enter the cold, dark home. They may keep the interior looking better than the exterior, but there’s a certain chill that settles in your bones whenever you step foot into this house. When I was a kid, this place used to scare the shit out of me. Dempsey and Gemma once locked me in a closet when I was six or seven and I nearly hyperventilated until Pops rescued me.
My shoes echo on the wood floors as I make my way through the foyer to the stairwell. Grandpa is around somewhere. Usually, you can hear him before he shows up, the whine of his electric wheelchair an eerie warning. It’s Jude who’ll sneak up on you soundlessly and nearly make you piss your pants.
I take the steps two at a time, heading straight for Jude’s massive office. I’m not sure what sort of work he does for the family, but I know it’s important. His efforts bring in enormous amounts of cash that keeps the Parks perched on top of this town like the royalty we are.
The halls upstairs are dark, every door closed except for the one at the end. The glow of computer monitors casts light into the hallway. It’s quiet aside from the hypnotic tapping of fingers on a keyboard. Slowly, I approach Jude’s office. I know better than to assume I can sneak up on him. He’s far too paranoid for that. Screens line every wall, pictures lit up of every angle of both the inside and outside of this monolith home. Hell, I’m surprised he doesn’t have a camera feed in my house too.
“My favorite uncle,” I state as I saunter in.
He grunts, not bothering to turn away from his screen. Jude is the biggest man in our family. Pops and Dad have told me stories about his stellar football career back in high school. How he could have gone off to not only play college ball but also have a place in the NFL as well. All that changed on the day of the fire that took his mother away from him.
“What’re you working on?” I sit down on one of the armchairs in the room, sprawling my long legs out in front of me. “Besides spying on your staff and visitors.”
Jude mashes a button on his keyboard with enough force I’m surprised he didn’t Hulk smash all the way through the table, before spinning around in his chair to face me.
Another thing about this house that used to creep me the fuck out.
Uncle Jude.
Latex mask wearing, Freddy Kreuger slash Jason Voorhies wannabe Uncle Jude.
“Things your small mind can’t begin to comprehend even if I explained them to you,” he says icily, words slightly muffled behind his mask. “Are you here to shoot the shit or do you need something, Spencer?”
A soft tap on the door signals Violet’s arrival. She’s an old lady with wild white hair and a missing front tooth, but the woman can make the most fantastic pie in the world.
“Mr. Park,” she says, setting the plate down on the end table next to me. “Still warm, hon. Hope you enjoy.”
She scampers out of the room without another word. I pick up the plate and inhale the entire slice before answering Jude. Once the taste of pussy is gone, I set my plate aside to level my uncle with a firm glare.
“I need to find what Aubrey’s been up to.”
Jude doesn’t react or move. He just sits there, staring at me from behind his white mask, frozen like some eerie wax sculpture in a museum. Even though he unnerves me, I don’t bristle or fidget. I’m not six years old anymore. Jude’s harmless as far as I’m concerned. A weird-ass freak, but harmless.
“Why?” he grunts out.
“She’s back.”
He nods as though he already knows that part. Go figure. Asshole probably has secret footage of her keying my car.
“I want her gone.” I gesture at his many computer monitors. “Besides, she could be a liability.”