Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“Don’t use Lirim’s absence as your excuse,” Ansel said. “We have our visitation scheduled for Saturday, and there’s no reason not to welcome you into your new place properly. Besides, you promised, and if we don’t do it soon I’ll be elbow deep in Thanksgiving prep. All you bitches are invited, bee-tee-dubs.”
Tam looked to Z for help but Z just shook his head. “Can’t help ya, babe.”
“My place isn’t big enough for a party.”
“Please, you have a separate bedroom. That’s already luxury large.”
“Don’t you remember the birthday party we held for Ange before we left Prism Center? One crappy dorm room with two cots and fifteen teenagers crammed inside.” Ansel poked his shoulder.
Z laughed. “Seriously, if we can make that work, we can definitely make your place work.”
They walked arm in arm toward the train station and hashed out plans to turn Tam’s apartment into party central tomorrow night. By the time they separated everyone had a job except for Tam. Ansel said his only responsibility was to make sure his neighbors wouldn’t call the police because they were going to get loud.
It was a Sassy Boyz party, after all.
* * *
Driver was towel drying his hair when his cell phone rang. He let it go to voicemail as he finished up in the bathroom. He hadn’t bothered to shave but at least he didn’t stink anymore. Leave it to Harrison to have Herbal Essences shampoo that smelled like fucking mint and almonds.
He wasn’t gonna lie, he dug it.
Like hell would he ever admit that to his friend, though. Nope, but he sure as shit would give Harrison crap just to see him try to defend himself. He smiled, thinking about it as he pulled the sweatpants over his bare ass. Oh yeah, that was another thing he wouldn’t be telling Harrison.
Didn’t matter how good a friend you were, rubbing your balls on another dude’s clothes wasn’t kosher. Better that this particular pair mysteriously disappeared.
After basic grooming, he checked the time. He’d kick some ass if he found his clothes on the floor again, but he still had at least twenty minutes before that became an issue.
In the living room, he sat on the couch and checked his messages.
Gran’s voice was as warm as it always was even though her words were mildly scolding. “Driver? This is your gran.” Like he might not recognize her voice. “I ran into Wendy Bishop and she said Brandon told her that you’d helped him out at the bar last night. I thought, that can’t be true, if he was home he would have called. Anyway, we hope you’re all right, son. Give us an update sometime soon. We love you.”
Damn it. Fucking Brandon and his big mouth. He’d probably done it on purpose to force Driver’s next move. He closed his eyes as shame ate at him. He couldn’t really blame him, Driver had done something similar when Brandon’s father passed.
He knew he was being weak. He knew his behavior was pretty fucking disgraceful. His grandparents deserved so much better than the shit he gave them. So it didn’t matter he’d rather pretend he was still in California. He called his grandmother back.
“Driver?”
“Hey, Gran.”
“Are you in the city?”
“Yeah, sorry. I meant to call but I’ve been busy.”
The disappointment in her sigh made the guilt in his stomach coalesce into bricks. “I see. We miss you.”
“How’s Gramps?”
“He’s fine. Still healthy as an ox and just as bullheaded too. We’re both well, son. We just wish we saw you more often.”
“I know.”
“Where have you been this time?”
“Spent about three weeks up at Flathead National Forest in Montana. It was beautiful. You wouldn’t believe the views and the lake is like a mirror.”
“Sounds lovely.”
“Then I hooked up with a guy doing some art installation in Utah. Headed down there for a bit, then took a job working as a bouncer in Vegas. Toured California with this group of hippies helping deliver handmade afghans to homeless vets.”
“How exciting,” she said and Driver knew she meant it.
“Yeah, saw lots. Did lots. I’ll tell you all about it when I come by.”
“And when will that be?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe this weekend? I’ll call you.”
“You’ll be close for a while then?”
“I’m turtle-sitting for Harrison.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
“I know.”
She sighed again. “Well, okay. I’ll make a cherry pie and your favorite mac and cheese.”
His stomach immediately grumbled. “Awesome.”
“We love you.”
“I know.” He loved his grandparents, he really, really did. But he hadn’t said so since he was fourteen.
After he hung up he couldn’t stop the memories from invading his mind. He never could. Every time he talked with his grandparents the same thing happened. It was like he was haunted by these strange reflections of his family. His mother kissing his forehead when he was sick, the taste of her chicken soup and the way her hair was always curled around her ears. His dad’s deep voice, how he’d patiently taught Driver how to throw a baseball, and how he’d been so proud when Driver had become pitcher of the school team.