Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
“You’re fucking disgusting, you know that?” I ask. “Really fucking gross.”
“Said the kettle to the pot,” my friend winks while his drink is placed in front of him. “Thanks, my man, put it on my tab,” he says to the bartender. Then, my buddy turns back to me. “So who is it?” he asks, brows raised. “I thought you were in mourning still, but good for you, my friend. It’s good to get right back in the saddle.”
I stare at my drink again, my mind whirling.
“It’s just a woman,” I grunt.
“She must be some woman if she has you so uptight,” he rumbles. “Who fucked you in the ass? Her?”
I snort, shaking my head.
“Shut the fuck up. But since you’re such a fucking asshole, I’ll tell you. It’s Juliette Lechain. My son’s fiancée. You might have seen her at his funeral.”
My friend lets out a long, low whistle.
“Oh shit, the busty brunette? With the sweet smile and big tits? Yeah, I saw her. You’re fucking that? So what’s the problem, bud? She riding you hard, and you need a scrip for Viagra? I’ve got you covered, my dude, because my doctor can get that shit, no prob.”
I stare at my buddy.
“You are one pathetic loser,” I grind out. “Yes, it’s her, but the problem isn’t that I can’t get it up. The problem is that she’s my son’s fiancée.”
“Your dead son,” my friend interjects immediately.
My shoulders slump again.
“Yeah, Harry’s dead,” I say in a hoarse voice. “Goddamn.”
Chris claps me on my shoulder.
“I don’t mean to be callous, but I don’t see what the problem is,” he says. “I mean, Harry’s gone. My apologies, bud, but it’s not like he’s going to rise from the grave to fight you for her.”
I shake my head.
“No, it’s not that. It’s that I’ve been a fucking asshole,” I say through gritted teeth. “Juliette was in a bad spot. She’s French and can’t stay in the United States now that her student visa’s run out. She was going to have to leave, except Harry was in the process of getting her a fiancée green card.”
“Fuck yeah, like in that show,” my friend nods. “What’s it called? Fiancé for Hire? Fiancé Below Deck?”
“90 Day Fiancé,” I say in a tight tone. “And yes, Juliette would have gotten a K-1 if she’d married Harry.”
“Oh, I get it,” Chris says, realization dawning in his voice. “So you’re fucking her for now, but it’s all going bye-bye, right? Yeah, illegal immigration is all over the news right now, and you don’t want to be fucking someone who’s here illegally. So she’s a goner, right? No worries though. You have a fucking private plane. You can fly to France to visit.”
I stare at my drink again, my shoulders sagging.
“No, not exactly.”
“What is it then?” my friend queries. “Did you sell the plane? No worries, bud, just fly commercial. It’s depressing what with the tasteless food, but I hear that shit’s improved a lot. Singapore Airlines has the hottest chicks too,” he smirks. “Trust me, I’ve fucked so many of their stewardesses that I have first-hand knowledge. Oh, and they love butt sex too.”
But I don’t even react to Chris’s foul language. Instead, I stare straight ahead.
“No, I twisted Juliette’s arm. I said I’d get her a visa if she got pregnant with the next Lewis baby. Now that Harry’s gone, it’s the only way to continue my family line.”
“Yeah, but pregnant how?” my friend asks, perplexed. “Did you son freeze his sperm? Dude, that’s fucking smart.”
“No, he didn’t. I said I’d knock her up myself in order to continue the line. That’s why I’m such a fucktard.”
Chris whistles.
“Yeah, you kind of are. But you have the upper hand, my friend. You’re getting sex from a sexy young thing, and using her body until she’s streaming with semen. Then, you’ll kick her out on her ass, right? Give her a load of money as a thank you, and then it’s back to France she goes.”
I jerk to stare at my friend.
“No, it’s not back to France. I’m genuinely trying to knock her up. It’s for my family line”
My friend whistles, his look disbelieving.
“Really? Wow. Just wow. You know what I’m going to say because I’ve told you before, but you are way too caught up in that Lewis and Clark shit, bud. Seriously. I’ve known you for years, and I know “continuing the line” is important to you, but this scheme takes the cake. I mean, I’m sorry bro, but your forebears wouldn’t care about this shit. Hell, no one cares about this shit anymore. It’s antiquated and obscene. We’re not the lord of the manor trying to breed sons on every sexy lady in waiting. Seriously, my dude. Babies are conceived in test tubes these days, so it doesn’t fucking matter.”