Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
The woman’s eyes narrow as she looks up from her notepad. “Who’s your tall-drink-o’-water friend, Winston? Gonna introduce me?”
Winston chuckles and slaps me on the back. “Charlene, this is my brother, Wyatt. Wyatt, this is Charlene, who is way, way, way out of your league.”
Charlene tuts. “Now don’t you go telling tales. You don’t know, maybe I’m looking for something a bit different this go-round.” She’s talking to Winston, but her eyes are drinking me in like I’m fresh spring water on a hot day in the desert. “Hi there, Wyatt. Pleased to meetcha.”
She slides her pen behind her ear and offers her hand, which I take, shaking politely. “Nice to meet you too, Charlene. I’m afraid my brother’s right, though. I’m not looking for a . . . go-round, sorry to say.” Her pink-glossed lips pout, and I rush to correct the harsh brush-off. I lean to the side, scanning her head to toe to take in her blue cutoff denim shorts, white shirt knotted above her slim waistline, glittery nails, and eyes surrounded by liner and long, fake lashes. “As beautiful as she might be.”
“Hmmph,” she answers.
“Woman, your Fat Pussy is ready. You planning on handling it yourself, or you want me to take it to table nine?” the disembodied voice calls out from the kitchen before I can reply to Charlene’s self-confident taunt.
Charlene rolls her eyes and huffs, leaning in. “He means my burger, not my fat pussy. I don’t have one of those. Mine’s pretty as a porno.”
“Um . . . okay?” I stutter. I thought I could handle a conversation. Apparently not.
She whirls in place, leaning back against the table like she hasn’t got anywhere better to be or anything else to do. I can see a small tattoo on the back of each arm with a name and date.
“Tay Tay, can you give a girl a minute to see if she can get laid, please? Marcus, go get your burger real quick. Mama’s busy making friends.” A guy across the room nods agreeably and gets up to grab his own burger. “Thank you, honey-baby.” Whirling back, she smiles in my direction. “Now, where were we?”
I blink. Winston grins, and I’m beginning to think he chose this place specifically to set me up for whatever this is.
“Oh, that’s right,” she says, snapping her fingers. “Pretty pussy. Now, my hair extensions cost me a penny, my nails cost me a dollar, and my makeup was free. Got these lashes done over at the beauty college by a student,” she confides to Winston. Laser locking me in her gaze once more, Charlene adds, “But I’m not one of those high-maintenance types. You ain’t never seen something look this good that costs so little, I guar-on-tee you that, Mr. Wyatt. And don’t get me wrong, I ain’t looking for no baby daddy—got two of those already—or a ring on my finger. It’s just that sometimes a girl likes a dick with a heartbeat instead of a pulse mode, know what I mean?”
Somewhere along her crazy line of propositioning, I find surer footing. She’s half playing. Her signals are clear: If I want a ride, she’ll let me play cowboy. But it’s no skin off her ass if I don’t. “That’s definitely understandable. But I’m afraid my heart quit beating a long time ago, if you catch my drift. You’d be better off with machine-gun mode on your nightstand friend.”
Telling a woman that I’ve got a case of the no-rise dick disease is definitely not a move I’d usually pull from my playbook, but in this case, fighting fire with fire seems like a safe choice.
And it works, as Charlene cackles loudly and then slaps Winston’s bicep. “Honey-baby, you did not tell me your kinfolk was funnier than a hyena on laughing gas. Big-ass liar too. I’mma bet you’ve got an engine like a Harley. Steel hard and thrums all night. I like this one. Keep him around.” Then to us both, she says, “I’ll be back with those beers and Fat Pussies.”
She lifts and lowers her eyebrows quickly, still suggesting more than a mere burger meal. As she sways her hips and struts away, I turn to glare at Winston. “A little warning would’ve been nice.”
He chuckles. “Oh, Charlene and Tayvious—that’s the mouthy cook back there—are fine, and entertaining as fuck. Besides, you should’ve seen yourself . . .” He lets his eyes go wide and his jaw drop open dumbly, his voice picking up a drawl. “Um . . . what? I uh . . . don’t want to sex you up despite your free-and-clear offer, ma’am.”
“Fucker, that’s not what I sounded like,” I growl. He purses his lips thoughtfully, tilting his head. “Shit, was it that bad?”
“You did save it with the limp-dick comment, but yeah. Preeetty bad, Golden Boy. Kinda nice to see you fall off your pedestal a bit, though.”