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)
It’s also a chance for Hector to deliver his daily beating to me behind the cafeteria dumpsters. The paraeducators don’t patrol that area during recess, so it’s a free-for-all.
Every so often I manage to sneak out of lunch before Hector gets ahold of me.
No such luck today, though. If anything, he’ll beat me twice as hard for not immediately submitting.
He drags me through the back door by the ear and then pushes me to the ground. Two of his goons—I don’t know their names, but he calls them his Kingsmen—flank him. They start kicking at me as I squirm on the ground.
Then Hector hoists me up by the shoulders and the Kingsmen hold me in place. He starts wailing into my belly. He never hits my face—way too easy to leave a black eye or other evidence of his wrongdoing—only the parts of my body where bruises will be covered by clothing. He knocks the wind out of me, and I try to hunch over, but the goons keep me standing to maximize the pain from Hector’s punches.
He ends the beating with a kick to my balls, and I crumple to the ground, crying.
“Pussy little Leprechaun never fights back.” Hector spits on me for good measure. “What a fucking wimp.”
The Kingsmen laugh with Hector, and they head to the main outdoor area.
I check my watch. I have just enough time to run to a bathroom and clean myself up before class. Make it look like this never happened.
Hector’s an ass, but at least he’s got good time management skills.
I get to my feet and fall right back down to the ground. One of the Kingsmen must have gotten my ankle, and it hurts like hell. I can’t put any weight on it.
Shit.
I’ll have to call for help. Get a teacher. And then I’ll have to explain why I look all messed up.
If I tell them I got beat up by Hector Dimpsey, he’ll make my life even more of a hellscape than it already is. If I tell them I just tripped and fell, they won’t believe me.
I grit my teeth and try one final time to get to my feet, but I collapse to the ground again, crying out in pain.
“Hey, need a hand?”
I look up and gasp.
It’s another eighth grader. Tall, slim, with dyed black hair—highlighted with electric green streaks—that covers one of his eyes. Wearing all black, including eyeliner.
Ray Sinclair.
Regina’s twin brother.
Damn it. I’m hard.
Bianca’s breast grazed my upper arm when she bent over to grab her ID. That tiny touch sent a pulse of electricity through me that I haven’t felt…maybe ever.
She went ahead of me down the mirrored staircase to the main part of the club before I could thank her for getting me in. I didn’t mind it too much, because she gave me a nice view of her ass on her way down. She took off her coat as she walked, revealing an elegant white evening gown that clings to her in all the right places. If only I could follow her into her dressing room and rip it off her.
I shake the thought out of my head. That’s not why I’m here. I’m here to find out what’s going on with Maddox and Alissa.
But as I pass through the green door that leads to the Aces Underground floor, I look toward the pink stage in the Hearts section, where Bianca is setting up for her first performance. The least I can do is listen to a few of her songs as thanks for sticking her neck out for me.
Problem is, there’s no place to sit in Hearts. It’s for dancing, and I haven’t danced since my Rabbit Foot days. I don’t have a partner, anyway, since my woman of choice will be on the stage.
This isn’t the first time I’ve heard Bianca perform—she’s almost always been here when I’ve been Maddox’s guest. She sings a lot of jazz standards. I sometimes see a touring musical at one of the big theaters in downtown Chicago, but those are usually modern shows like Wicked or Book of Mormon. Bianca sings a lot of standards from the forties and fifties, which are nice to listen to, but not pieces I usually recognize.
I haven’t really listened to her sing when I have been here, anyway. When Maddox has brought me to Aces in the past, we’ve almost always stayed in the Spades section where he and I could ply girls with liquor, see if any of them were interested in joining us for a romantic night. Every so often we’ve gone to Diamonds, played a game of blackjack or Texas Hold’em. The only time I’ve gone to Hearts has been at the insistence of a woman I was trying to bed. And even then, we didn’t really dance, just swayed to the lilting music.