Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“Fuck you, Benny,” Mackie croaked at me. When I glanced over, he was watching me with those dark eyes of his and opening and closing his foot over and over. It was his version of begging for food. And because I was a sucker, I went over and gave him the last wedge of my danish.
I was just finishing putting a pot of coffee on when there was a hard banging on the front door. I stiffened just as Velle came downstairs, still pulling on his shirt, a tiny brunette trailing behind him as she desperately tried to finger-comb her hair back into order.
He shot me a scrunched brow look as I made my way through to the living room.
I waited, wanting to see if it was the cops banging with their club or something, since that damn sure wasn’t a hand whacking the wood like that.
Tension tightened in my stomach as I wished I wasn’t currently the most senior club member in the house. Huck was off in Navesink Bank with his whole crew, visiting his sister and her family, as well as our mother chapter.
I definitely didn’t want to be the reason we got invaded by the cops while he was gone.
Sensing my unease, Velle jumped on the couch, slightly pulling the blind back to peer out.
“Not the cops,” he said, a weird smile tugging at his lips.
Alright then.
Maybe some more hot girls.
Or a door-to-door salesman. Someone who wanted to pave the driveway or replace the windows, some shit like that.
I slid the locks and pulled the door open.
Then there was what the door had been getting knocked with.
A fucking cane. The kind with the bent rubber handle. Attached to the wrinkled hand of an elderly man.
He was a little stooped but had a bulldog kind of build, white hair, and pale green eyes.
“Yeah?” I asked, glancing behind him toward the fifty-plus community they’d built across the street. It also featured an assisted living facility.
It looked like the neighbors were coming to visit.
“Yeah? That’s how you answer the door?”
“What can we do for you, sir?” Velle asked, moving in beside me.
“I have a bone to pick with you,” the man said, his voice angry enough to be shaking.
“What about?” I asked.
“That racket last night. My wife couldn’t sleep. And when she—”
He trailed off when there was female laughter followed by feet slapping on the stairs as the little cat-and-mouse game seemed to continue.
Then there she was.
She was still topless, tits out, with nothing but a pillow hiding her junk as she streaked through the house.
“Get back here!” Caymen called, barreling down the steps while still yanking a pair of boxers into place.
“Try to catch me,” she taunted as she bolted through the kitchen, then, from the sound of things, out the back door.
Behind me, the man let out a wheezing sound that had me turning to look.
He was wide-eyed and flustered, color creeping up his neck.
“I, uh, well, that… wow.”
Velle and I shared a smile.
“Where are they going like that?” he asked.
“Either to fuck in the pool or the sh—” I trailed off, almost saying ‘shooting range.’ But I was pretty sure we weren’t supposed to have one of those. “Shed,” I finished.
“Really?” he asked, interest piqued.
“What was that about your wife again?” Velle asked.
I knew him well enough at this point to detect something leading in his voice. Like he knew exactly what the guy was going to say.
“Who?” he asked, then shook his head. “Eh, she’s always mad about something,” he said, waving a hand as he leaned on his cane, then started moving inside without an invitation. “Makes it my problem too with all the nagging. Are there any more girls like that in… hello,” he said, seeing Velle’s overnight guest.
“Good morning,” she said, giving him a small smile. “Well, Velle, I have to get to work,” she said, giving Velle an awkward wave before grabbing her purse and moving out the front door.
Literally, as soon as that closed, York and Dixon’s guests also made their way downstairs. They were still in last night’s club dresses and their old makeup.
The old man looked between them, mouth falling open.
“There’s coffee and danishes in the kitchen, girls,” I told them, getting two smiles as they made their way through to get something to eat before they headed out.
“That offer for me, too? I’ve been cut off from coffee for three months.”
“Be my guest,” I offered, waving him toward the kitchen.
“Not entirely sure how to handle old men from across the street invading our clubhouse,” I admitted when he was out of earshot. “Figure it’s probably better to just let him hang instead of being pissed at us and calling the cops each time we make noise. What’s it hurt to let him eat some junk, drink some forbidden coffee, and look at pretty girls?”