Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“Marine Ecology is gonna be the shit,” Keaton says as he sorts his cards.
“Excited to stock up on your animal mating rituals knowledge, huh?” I speak up without thinking, then curse myself for the foolish move.
Keaton looks startled, but recovers quickly. “Nah, I think it’ll be more about environmental and population patterns, marine habitats, that kind of stuff.”
“It’s super-fascinating,” Ahmad pipes up. “I took it last year.”
I study my hand, trying to decide which cards to drop. Finally, I lay down two, tap two fingers on the table, and pick up the replacements that Judd slides over. I’ve got a pair of aces. Not bad. But not good enough to call Tanner’s twenty-dollar bet. So I fold, all the while trying to ignore the fact that Keaton’s gaze is on me.
The intensity of it bores a hole in the side of my head. Stupidly, I sneak a peek. A hot shiver rolls through me. The look he’s giving me is loaded with heat.
But when our eyes lock, he breaks visual contact, lowering his gaze to his cards.
Judd bluffs again, but this time it works. Tanner, Keaton, and Jako all fold, and Judd wins the pile. As the next hand is being dealt, my phone buzzes. Before I even check it, I know exactly who the message is from.
LobsterShorts: Stop looking at me like that.
I have to fight hard not to laugh.
Surreptitiously, I type a quick note, keeping my phone under the table.
SinnerThree: You kidding me? You’re the one undressing me with your eyes. I’m not a piece of meat, Hayworth.
Smirking, I raise my beer to my lips.
LobsterShorts: Then why do I want to eat you up right now?
I break out in a coughing fit. A loud, uncontrollable burst of coughs that actually spurs Tanner to lean over and slap my back several times. “You okay, man?” he asks, concerned.
“Fine,” I wheeze out. Cheeks scorching, I glance at Hayworth, and he’s the one smirking now. I can’t believe he just said that. It’s a bold statement from a man who Olympic-sprinted out of my room after we made each other come.
My phone vibrates again. I’m almost terrified to check it, but then I realize it’s a call. Unease washes over me when I see my brother’s name.
“Uh, I’m sitting this one out,” I say when Judd starts to deal. “Important call.”
Once again, I feel Keaton’s eyes on me, but I ignore him and duck into the kitchen to answer Joe’s call. “What’s up?” I demand in a low voice.
“Yo, we need more cash for the biz,” Joe says without preamble.
The fingers of my left hand curl over the edge of the kitchen counter. “You seem to be under the impression that I’m an ATM, big brother. Which I’m not.” My tone is tighter than my muscles.
He sounds irritated. “What’s the big deal? I know you have the cash.”
“Actually, I don’t. And in case you forgot, I just gave you and Mom five hundred dollars.” Plus an extra hundred to him as hush money. “You already spent it?”
“Yes, we already spent it.” Sarcasm drips over the line. “That’s what happens when you’re running a business, moron. You spend money.”
“Uh-huh, and you also make money. How’s that part going for you?” I look down at my knuckles and notice they’re pure white. I force myself to relax my grip on the counter.
“We’re just getting shit off the ground,” my brother retorts. “You can’t expect us to turn a profit immediately.”
“Sure, and you can’t expect me to be the sole investor of this clown show you’re running.”
“Clown show?” Fury thunders in his voice. “You sanctimonious prick! Is that how you view our mother? She’s a clown? She worked her goddamn ass off to make sure there was food on our table and—”
“I’m not calling Mom a clown,” I interrupt. “You’re the clown, Joey. You don’t know the first thing about running a business, and I’m not giving you another dime unless you present me with a proper business plan for this handyman shit, along with a repayment schedule—that’s the only way you’re getting any more cash from me.”
“You little faggot—”
I hang up. Then I sag forward and inhale a deep breath. It doesn’t calm me. In fact, it simply makes me lightheaded and more anxious. The last time I put up a fight about money, Joe threatened to tell the people in my life that I strip for a living, and so I caved. But I’m not caving anymore. The thing about lowlifes like Joe is, if you give in once, they’ll always come back for more.
It was a mistake to pay him. At this point, I’d rather risk being outed as a stripper than be trapped under my brother’s greedy thumb.
“Everything okay?”
I turn toward the doorway. Keaton stands there with what appears to be genuine worry in his hazel eyes.