Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
It looks lavish from the outside, and it is, I guess. But I had to ask if I could live on my own, away from home, when I was thirty, for Christ’s sake.
The life is not what the TV and movies make it out to be.
“We’ve got enough for dinner at least,” I remark, peeling off a few bills and starting to ball them up.
“Here,” I tell Jasmine, passing her the rest. “Crumble it up, tear a little here and there if you can.”
Her face stares back up at me as if I’ve lost my mind.
“Make ‘em look used,” I instruct her.
“Only thing dumber than walking around with this much money is spending it,” I remind myself, knowing I’ve already broken every code, rule, and oath in all of the Martinelli family history.
“Uhhh, do we really need to show like this many hundreds?” she asks, explaining it’s a roadside diner, not the Shangri-La hotel.
“Good point,” I agree, letting her pocket whatever she likes from the stack before closing the case, grateful when it’s stashed neatly under the back seat.
The dull whump of helicopter blades heading in the opposite direction lets me know that Maria Portello got away alright.
This much cash, plus whatever else she was carrying, is more than enough to get her almost anywhere.
“Would you rather have gone with her?” Jasmine asks me, sounding a little cold after I notice she’s been watching me listening for the chopper heading away from the weather right on top of us.
“What the hell does that mean?” I ask, feeling something else in my chest.
Next to the little explosions, Jasmine gives me, it’s a new feeling.
One I don’t like so much.
“I mean, she’s from your world. Got good looks and money,” Jasmine sneers. “Even with that raccoon make-up job,” she spits, angrily tossing the money in her hands down as if it's dirt or worse.
“Hey,” I tell her firmly, gripping her wrist until she looks at me. “I’m here with you because you’re all that matters to me now. More than my family, and definitely more than her and her money!”
I let Jasmine’s wrist drop, surprised at how much it hurts me inside when Jasmine acts like this.
I wonder if this is what a heart attack feels like? After pacing by the car in the rain, I sit my already soggy ass on the hood, kicking at a stone.
I’m not here long before I feel Jasmine sidle up next to me, slipping her wet hand into mine.
“Hey,” she whispers.
“Hey,” I rasp back at her, feeling like a teenager all over again until she tells me what I need to hear.
“I am glad it’s me with you, Rocco. I didn’t mean anything just now…I’m just….”
“Hungry?” I tell her, finishing her sentence for her.
Looking at her getting wetter by the second, smiling when she does, I feel my heart set back in its rightful place again when she tugs at my jacket, signaling me to lean down and kiss her, which I do.
Gladly.
The lights from a passing car that slows down startle us both, and my heart skips a beat when I notice it’s a county sheriff’s car, searchlight in hand, before they turn off for the diner.
“Guess we should skip a bite to eat then,” Jasmine shivers, and I pull her closer, shielding her from the weather.
“No way am I skipping a hot meal. But, C’mon,” I urge her, bundling us both back in the car and following the tail lights of the law, we park right next to the patrol car as it starts to really come down in buckets.
“I’m waiting for the rain to stop,” I mumble to Jasmine, refusing to let go of her until I feel more warmth coming off that soft little body of hers.
Having her pressed so close drives me wild, but it’s a feeling I’m getting used to.
Once it’s clear the rain won’t stop, we make a silent pact to make a run for it with a glance into each other’s eyes.
I’m noticing we’re talking less but understanding each other better by the minute.
Her roaming hands to match mine are only helping me feel better about her not being so shy anymore.
Muddy from splashes outside, we skid a little on the old linoleum flooring entering the diner, but we’re not the only drenched couple in the place, with almost every seat and booth filled with motorists or locals looking to get out of the storm.
Nobody seems to blink, but I don’t want a damned cop eyeballing me either.
“Good thing we could get off that damned road, honey,” I say, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“I hope whoever owns that car off the road back there is okay….”
Jasmine isn’t a dummy, and she takes delight in adding to my plan.
“I’m sure they’re okay. Someone would’ve picked them up by now.”