Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Yeah.” Jess shrugs, crunching on a piece of bacon. “Coach wants me to play lacrosse in the spring. I think I might.”
“So, you wouldn’t be okay with going back home?”
“Like, home home? Like Oakland home?”
I nod.
“Fuck no. Why would we do that?” he asks, seemingly offended that I even brought it up. “We’re both finally doing good. I have friends. Ones who’ve never even been to jail,” he deadpans. “I have a shot at college.”
I almost start crying again, knowing how much he really has going for him here, and how much it would kill me to have that taken away. College wasn’t even on his radar before. Just knowing that he’s considering it is huge.
“What is this about? The money? Because I can pick up an after-school job. Coach might even let me work for the club.”
“No—well, yes and no. There just aren’t any homes or apartments available to rent. I thought I had something, but it fell through. We’re shit out of luck unless we can swing twenty-five hundred a month on rent.” I was hoping to find something for half the price.
“So, what? We go back to Mom’s? Pretend we didn’t send her ass to jail and go back to living life in the fucking hood?”
“No.”
“No? What the fuck else can we do, Lo?”
“There is one other option,” I hesitate, not knowing how he’ll feel about it. “Dare wants us to move in. We’d pay him rent and have a written agreement with him. And it would only be temporary.”
Jess sits back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.
“I’m for whatever the fuck keeps us here.”
“Yeah?” I ask, still not sold. “You sure?”
“I’m not going back, Lo. This guy…you say he’s legit. If your fairy fucking godmother wants to help, then why the fuck not?”
“I’ll think about it.”
* * *
IT’S BEEN FOUR DAYS SINCE I threw out the offer, and I haven’t heard a word about it since. The first two days, I figured she was just thinking it over, but now, I’m wondering if she’s just trying to figure out a way to tell me she’s leaving.
At least I know she’s not staying in a house with no heat. I pocketed the past-due invoices from Henry’s the night I busted Eric’s car up and paid them the other day. Lo told me the power was back on, but she never asked if I had anything to do with it, and I never told her.
I haven’t had a chance to fuckin’ breathe this week. My books are jam-packed with appointments. Tourist season is in full swing now. Between that and Lo working over at Blackbear, we haven’t seen each other in the past few days, except in passing. Even when she comes in, we’re both so busy that we don’t get anything other than stolen glances.
My phone vibrates from my pocket. I pull it out to see a picture of Lo waiting for me. A picture of Lo’s tattoo, more specifically. She’s on that pathetic excuse for a bed at Henry’s, legs bent, showing off the curve of her perfect ass. She’s wearing those knee-high socks she likes. No pants. No underwear. Her shirt has ridden up, exposing fingertip-shaped bruises in various stages of healing that go with the scratches down my back and teeth marks on my shoulders. My dick is instantly hard, which is unfortunate, seeing as how I have a girl in my chair who’s eyeing my lap like it’s hard for her.
“You ready?” I ask dryly. This chick has taken approximately eighteen cigarette breaks, two phone calls, and one pee break for a tattoo of a dreamcatcher that should’ve taken thirty minutes, tops.
Once I’m finished with my client, I excuse myself to the drawing room. I’m still fucking hard, and I’m half-tempted to rub one out right here and now to the memory permanently seared into my spank bank of the last time we were in here together. I was helping Lo get dressed, but I ended up eating her pussy. I hadn’t even meant to do it. It was instinct. Completely involuntary. Then I was surprised, yet again, when Lo dropped to her knees and gave me the best head of my life.
I sit at my desk, dick threatening to bust through my jeans, and tap out my reply to Lo.
Me: Are you teasing me, Sally? I want to see that in person.
Me: You know, to make sure it’s healing properly.
Lo: Day after tomorrow, unless seeing a bunch of sweaty, half-naked men is your idea of a good time.
Me: Come again?
Lo: Jess has a wrestling match. Going to Sac.
I debate on taking her up on her non-invitation. Crowds, family outings, and events, stuck with people in a confined space for an hour and a half drive…all things I avoid like the plague. But for some reason, I find myself willing to do just about any-fucking-thing to get my fix.