Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94686 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94686 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Yeah. Lucy doesn’t drink,” I admitted.
“Then why isn’t she twisting her face up or something. Wendy drinks this expensive brandy from this same sort of bottle every day. Once in a while, she rushes out to the store or somewhere and comes back with one.”
“That’s weird.”
“Yeah. Something is up with Lucy.”
“Or Wendy.” Something kept nagging at my brain. “Wendy is pretty lazy. Each woman has her own servant. Why would she go out to buy her own liquor? She could just have it ordered.”
“Maybe she’s going to meet someone.”
“Maybe.”
Troy played the video. Lucy sniffed it even more. What do you smell? Her face reddened. She tapped her pinky finger in the glass. Whatever she smelled freaked her out because she hurried out of there as if her life depended on it.
Chapter 18
TROY
We all sat in Chase’s dining area for brunch. It had been a late morning for everyone. By the time we all made it downstairs, it was close to twelve. Red wine rested in the center of the table. Any other time, I wouldn’t have started so early, but after seeing Wendy down a bunch of drinks in almost every piece of footage that I’d seen this morning, I was pretty thirsty for a drink. It was something about Lucy sniffing the glass that I couldn’t get out of my head.
What could a person smell in a glass to make them scared? Is Lucy really just crazy or is Wendy hiding something?
I poured a glass of red wine for myself right as Viv entered the room. Fluffy white clouds decorated her blue pajamas. She should’ve looked like crap with her hair in disarray and bunny slippers on her feet. She didn’t. An instant erection hit me. I’d yanked those pajama pants down many a morning and used my tongue on her flesh to tell her all the things I couldn’t.
She hadn’t said a word to me in a day and a half. Why would she? It was dumb and immature to run off like that, but what else could I do? The alternatives would be detrimental to the both of us. She had to realize that. Sex between us would be wicked and twisted and. . .so fucking good I could never stop fucking her. Not until someone actually carted both of our naked, humping bodies off to a mental hospital.
I can’t and she’s probably done with me anyway.
It was on her face as she pulled out her napkin and placed it on her thighs. Sorrow. It glazed over her eyes and gave them a dim glow when she sat down across from me.
“Good morning, everybody.” Her voice was hoarse like she’d been crying. One of the cooks came up to her and asked if she would like tea, to which she nodded. The other cook set plates in front of each of us, stacked with bread and some weird looking stuff on top.
Is that cheese?
Chase, Viv, and I directed our views to Jazz. I almost laughed. Back at home when I was a kid, I always checked what Jazz thought of the food first, before eating it myself. Although she loved strange stuff, her tongue knew when a meal worked and when it just didn’t. Jazz had ruined fast food spots for me. One of the times, I was out for a few months, and I went up to visit her at that snooty school she went to. She cut school that day and had us sneak off to McDonald’s where she bitched about the bad quality of practically everything in the meal and could not care less that she’d only spent a few dollars.
“It’s the principal of these things.” She slung her uneaten French fries and half bitten burger into the trash next to us. “This is simply a disrespect of food, and to try and sell this garbage to me is to say that I am stupid.”
“So McDonald’s thinks you’re stupid? I think I like this place even more.” I chomped down on my Big Mac. “Special sauce” lathered my lips.
Jazz made a show of dry heaving and then flung napkins at me. “Ewww. And not only does this freaking satanic chain think I’m stupid, they think the world is dumb.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Next time give me your fries before you throw them away.”
“This is the last time I walk into this place.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “My body is a temple. If I’m going to tear it down with a burger, it will be dripping with the best salted blue cheese money can buy, stacked with greasy peppercorn bacon, placed between two slices of ciabatta bread, and served with some sort of honey dipping sauce.”
“That’s too much stuff. It sounds nasty.”
“That’s because you’re a hater.”
“You’re one to talk.” I finished my sandwich and reached for the other one. “You still hungry?”