Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Harrison clears his throat.
I don’t like flirting with another man in his presence—especially when the other man in question is one Chester Aristotle Tabbitt, the weirdest-looking guy I’ve ever seen—but I trust my intuition more than most other people. And it’s telling me this man has to come to Aces tonight.
Chet sighs. “Fine. Dr. O’Rourke may come to the club tonight. But, Miss Bianca, if your argument stands and you are indeed a member, not an employee, I’ll need to see some ID.”
“Of course.”
Chet checks the IDs at the door anyway. Only a few Aces employees come through the black door in the alleyway. The rest go through another entrance.
He slowly stands up and unlocks the door to the mirrored staircase. He takes in a deep, resigned breath. “Welcome, Miss Bianca and guest, to Aces Underground.”
5
HARRISON
I’m not sure what I just witnessed.
The most beautiful woman I’ve ever met just made some complicated courtroom argument over why she should be allowed to bring me in as her guest. I didn’t quite follow her logic, and there were about a dozen holes in her case, but it somehow got Chet to shut up and let me inside.
I was about ready to punch his lights out when Bianca walked in.
I’m glad she did. Beating up the bouncer wouldn’t exactly boost my chances at scoring a return visit in case I can’t find what I’m looking for tonight.
I’m not even sure what I’m looking for, if I’m being honest.
Maybe I’m overthinking this whole thing. Maybe Alissa and Maddox really did just take off on a long-term vacation to celebrate their newfound love.
It wouldn’t be the craziest thing a person has ever done for love.
Far from it.
I know from personal experience.
Regina Sinclair will never notice me.
Or worse, she will notice me, and it will be for the reasons the other kids in school notice me.
My big ears.
Rabbit Ears, they call me.
And then, at my first middle-school dance, wearing the new dress shirt that Mom had worked a double shift to be able to buy for me, I got on the dance floor and froze.
I didn’t know how to dance.
So I just…hopped around.
And I was christened with a new nickname.
Rabbit Feet.
The two names are interchangeable, all depending on the mood of the school bullies, particularly their ringleader, Hector Dimpsey. A rotund boy with a freckled face whose only goal in life is to make me miserable.
Mom sent me to elementary school every day wearing green.
The color of our culture. I was their Irish pride and joy, the little boy born on St. Patrick’s Day.
In elementary school, it was fine. The kids thought it was cool that I got to wear my favorite color to class every day. It was like a game. Would Harry wear emerald today? Lime? Olive?
My mother should have known better than to keep sending me to school in my verdant wardrobe once I hit sixth grade.
Middle school is different. It’s the deadly cross section where kids are at their most immature and their most hormonal.
And the bullies, like Hector Dimpsey, will pinpoint the exact thing that makes you different and use it to make your life a living hell.
Hector made fun of my green shirts first. He called me Leprechaun Boy. I asked Mom to buy me some plain black T-shirts and a dark-gray hoodie.
But then he came for my ears. And I couldn’t exactly rip those off.
And so Rabbit Ears stuck.
Half the school calls me that now.
But Regina Sinclair has never called me Rabbit Ears.
Granted, she’s never called me anything. I doubt she even knows my name.
She’s an eighth grader. She has shiny black hair and gorgeous hazel eyes. She’s almost always wearing a striped miniskirt—with leggings if it’s cold outside—and a creamy cardigan that wraps around her body the way I’d like to. She wears makeup, too. I heard she was the first girl in her class to start wearing it, and all the other girls followed. Her lips are always the color of a fresh strawberry.
I’ve always wondered if her lip gloss is strawberry flavored, too. There’s only one way to find out.
I’ve never kissed a girl before. My buddy Maddox—he goes to a different school—says he has, but I think he’s lying. He kept deflecting my questions when I asked him about it.
“Rabbit Ears!”
A chill runs down my spine. Right on time, just when I’m working up a little courage to walk by Regina, maybe even make eye contact with her, my personal tormenter has made his entrance.
Hector Dimpsey is wearing his usual attire. Yellow T-shirt stained with whatever he had for lunch today, athletic shorts with his underwear sticking out, and ratty sneakers. He grabs me by the ear and slams me against my locker.
“Where’d you think you were going, Ears?”
“To…recess,” I sputter out.
We call it recess. It’s really just outdoor time after lunch. There are a few basketball hoops that some of the kids shoot half-deflated balls through. Other than that, it’s a chance for the teachers to get a moment to themselves before afternoon classes begin.