Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 67468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Which was comical seeing as he was also on unemployment and got a check every two weeks from the government to help.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” he asked, looking flabbergasted at my words.
“I’m saying exactly what you think I’m saying,” I said. “I’m going to go to work. When I get home, I want your belongings out of my house. Please leave the key on the kitchen island.”
I gathered my stuff.
I didn’t need much since I was working at The Marina today. Dad usually ordered everybody that was at work food, so I didn’t even need to bring my lunch.
That was another thing that annoyed Werner.
He was a health freak. He hated the fact that I ate out almost every single day.
Funny enough, that was the highlight of my life.
Eating.
I was, what you would call, a foodie.
I loved food in any way, shape, or form. Even the healthy stuff.
At least, healthy stuff that wasn’t cooked by Werner.
“You can’t do this right now.” Werner crossed his arms and widened his feet in a defensive posture.
“I can, and I did,” I said. “Go stay with your mother since you and her think it’s so cool to ‘test’ someone on their mothering to a kid that’s not even theirs.”
Jesus, what a joke.
A test.
He’d walked in this morning and showed me a graded sheet of paper that rated me from one to ten on how he thought I handled his son.
I’d failed at the ‘sympathetic’ one with a ‘zero.’
“I can’t. My mom doesn’t have an apartment that allows pets. And the dog will be here in a couple hours,” he argued.
I snorted. “Then I guess that’s something you should’ve realized or thought about before you fucked up.” I shrugged. “See you when I see you, Werner.”
I knew he’d try to drag it out.
I knew that when I got home, if I allowed it, there would be a dog in my house.
That’s why I did the next best thing to calling the police.
I called my big brother, Silvy.
Silvy was actually Silvain Paradis the Third.
But my dad went by Silvio, and my grandfather went by Silvain, so it was only natural for Silvy to be a Silvy.
Grabbing my purse, I slung it over my shoulder and went next door to my brother’s place.
We were only a few hundred feet from each other, but sometimes our schedules were so opposite that it could’ve been miles.
I’d heard him come in earlier, though, so I knew he was home.
Instead of knocking, I walked right inside, unsurprised to find him leaning against his counter with a cup of coffee in his hand and a scowl on his face at my intrusion.
“Hey,” I said. “I kicked Werner to the curb. He’s supposed to be leaving before I get home. He should have plenty of time to clear himself and Griffith out. But I want you to make sure he doesn’t try to stay. Or bring a dog in.”
Silvy blinked.
“What?” he asked.
“I said exactly what I meant,” I grumbled.
“What do you mean if he tries to bring a dog in?” he asked. “Why would he do that when he knows you’re deathly allergic?”
I threw up my hands. “That’s what I asked! He said that I can get over my little issue, but his son can’t.”
Silvy shook his head.
It caused his black, glossy hair to sway with the movement.
Silvy was, like me, half Italian, half Persian. We both had long black hair that glistened blueish in the correct light, and sleek, glossy texture that always looked perfect.
Silvy, with his five o’clock shadow, looked downright angry at my words, though.
Silvy was also a cop.
Which was why, when he pulled his gun from the counter, it didn’t alarm me anywhere near as much as it could have.
“Don’t shoot him too bad,” I said as I backed away. “Are you working at The Pizzeria tonight?”
Silvy tried to work there a few times a week to give Dad and Grandpa a day off, as did I.
But him coming off a night shift like he just had, I wasn’t sure that was in the cards today.
“No,” he grumbled. “It’s Monday, remember?”
Monday.
Shit.
“Oh, yeah.” I sighed. “I really need to get a calendar or something.”
“You really need to get the trash out of your house before it starts to rot.” He fixed his badge on his belt next. “I can’t believe you let it get this bad. I told you to take care of it months ago.”
He was right. He had.
But I was a sucker. I couldn’t even kick my own soul-sucking sister to the curb. How was I supposed to kick a man with a kid to the curb?
I’d have done it a month ago, but then he’d lost his job, followed shortly by his apartment. He’d moved in with his mom but spent the majority of his time with me. Or, at least, at my place. I hadn’t been able to go as far as to kick him out of my life at the same time.