Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“That’s Autumn—my son and daughter-in-law adopted her too,” he said. “And this is baby Ryan. He turns one this August.”
Kill me.
“You sound like a proud grandfather,” Alfie said with a grin.
“I love them dearly.” Shan smiled politely and bit into his cheesesteak. “So what’re your plans for the day?”
Maybe Alfie had plans to put more pictures of his daughter in his wallet?
“I’m heading over to my parents’ in a bit,” Alfie replied. “They’re coming back from a cruise today, so we decided to meet up around two. Then I’m meeting with the contractor who’s redoing our kitchen at the new place. But right now, I’m hoping to just stay here and catch up with this double-shot of bitters.”
Fuck—I had a comeback for that, but my mouth was full of bread and cheesy, oniony steak. I held up a finger and chewed as quickly as I could.
“We better change the topic before he can speak,” Shan advised. “Are you working today, Kellan?”
God-fucking-dammit!
Alfie laughed. “You know him well.”
Shan smirked wryly. “I’d say I helped raise him, but he gets angry then.”
I scowled at him.
“He does seem extra bitey,” Alfie noted. “When was the last time you went for a massage with a happy ending?”
I was gonna strangle him. Now I’d forgotten my wisecrack at his comment about bitters. “I went with Colm a few weeks ago—and yeah, I have work today.” I swallowed the last of my food and chugged from my Coke. “Seeing the boss at four.” No need to use a bunch of names around Alfie until he’d accepted the job.
It was a principle. He was airtight, no matter what. It was why I wanted him to accept. He knew me so well, he was organized to the point where one might suspect he had OCD, and he wasn’t a rat, nor did he crack under pressure.
I caught Shan shaking his head, as if trying to clear it or catch up, and something was definitely lost on him.
“Pardon me.” He cut in. “When you say massage with a happy ending…”
I grinned.
Had he lived under a rock when he was married to Grace?
Alfie was way ahead on the topic—way ahead of Shan—and took over. “You don’t have to be gay to go to the place we like, Shannon. They do all sorts of treatments for men, and you can choose your masseur or masseuse. Just make sure to go during regular work hours, ’cause it’s a busy fucking whorehouse once people get off work. Or weekend mornings—they’re the best.”
I nodded. “That’s when the men who work in the city and live in the suburbs are home.”
“Jesus,” Shan said under his breath, visibly bewildered.
It was funny, but more than that, it was the wake-up call he needed. I didn’t wanna have to dance around topics he might be “uncomfortable” with.
He turned to me. “And you do this often?”
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t say often. Maybe once a month—if work allows it.” I crammed the last of my cheesesteak into my mouth and grabbed a napkin. “I usually go with Colm,” I said around the food. “We get the same treatment.”
Shan’s expression made me wanna laugh. He looked like he was trying to work out some advanced math problem. “But he’s…I mean, is he—”
“Nah.” I wiped my mouth. “He just loves having his asshole played with.”
If Shan had been a cartoon character, he would’ve dropped his jaw. Instead, his eyes widened, and he coughed into his fist.
Alfie looked on, amused, having figured out this was brand-new to Shan.
I pushed a little harder, for the fun of it. “You’re welcome to join me there sometime.”
Shan smiled tightly and cleared his throat, still with his fist to his mouth. “Thank you for the offer, Kellan, but I’m good.”
Yet, that afternoon, right after I’d dropped off Alfie at his parents’ house, I received a text from Shan on the burner.
Given how long it’s been, I don’t want to assume you can meet up on short notice. Let me know when you can make yourself available, and I’d like you to enter first this time. I’m bringing massage oil.
Considering the Italians had found us at our warehouse on Lot 47, we couldn’t go back there until Eric had tightened the security. So I drove toward our property on Packer Avenue, this shitty brick building without proper insulation. But I wasn’t gonna let that ruin my day. Despite that I was ready to fall asleep standing up, I was buzzing with anticipation.
My only question was how fast I could speed up the healing process of the wound on my side. It was too fresh for Shan just to dismiss it in the darkness.
There was makeup for such occasions, plus special silicone bandages, but I wasn’t sure I was that good. I could make it look natural. Feeling natural, though, was a whole other ball game.