Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Damn it, but he was beat. Staying up all night was no longer as fun as it used to be, not when he had to deal with the no-drink hangover that came the next morning. He yawned into the mirror as he washed his hands, noting the scruff that was fast becoming a full-blown beard and the dark circles under his eyes. Not even a full seven hours of sleep had lightened those bastards.
He needed a shave. Yeah, and a long hot shower, a full breakfast and a dozen cups of coffee. Oh, and a fresh change of clothes.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
He’d forgotten his laundry. He slapped the sink in frustration.
There was no way he could make it down to the basement and back in his boxers without getting caught by one of the residents. Running around half-naked in the middle of the day was a lot more dangerous than making a break for it before the sun rose. Last thing he needed was for some old lady to call the cops on him. He’d already been arrested once this year for public indecency, and once per year was his limit.
Looked like he’d have to pilfer some pants.
Harrison’s bedroom was obsessively clean and sparse, except for the dresser, which was cluttered with photographs in various frames and of various ages. Driver grinned at the old shot of him, Brandon and Harrison when they were teenagers at the creek. It’d been taken before Brandon’s father died. Before Harrison’s brother got arrested. Before his life had gone to complete shit. They’d been happy then. Innocent and carefree, like nothing in the world could touch them.
Driver’s grandfather had taken them camping in the Adirondacks. They’d gone fishing, made s’mores, told ghost stories around the campfire—all of the stereotypical boys in nature crap. Then they’d stumbled into a patch of poison ivy. He smiled to himself, remembering the way his grandpa cursed them as idiots while they were scratching themselves raw in the backseat of the car.
They had been idiots.
Still were.
Driver rummaged through Harrison’s drawers until he found a pair of sweats and tugged them on. They were a little short, but better than nothing. At least he wouldn’t be flashing his naughty bits to the neighbors.
He thought about Tam’s big brown eyes and gorgeous legs. Okay, she was one neighbor he wouldn’t mind getting naked with. Too bad she hadn’t been interested.
“I’ll be back, Mikey. Don’t go fighting Shredder without me.”
The third floor was deserted, but he did pass a few people in the stairwell on the way downstairs. When he got to the laundry room he found his clothes in a big wet pile on the floor. The machine he’d used last night was whirling away on the spin cycle.
“Damn it.” Just as Tam had warned him.
Cursing inconsiderate neighbors, Driver shoved the sloppy mess into the empty machine and set it to quick wash. Worse than his clothes ending up on the floor was the fact that he’d missed an opportunity to run into Tam again. Something about the way she’d studied him made him curious, but now how was he going to see her again? It wasn’t like he had a closet full of outfits to wash. And he couldn’t literally borrow a cup of sugar, right?
Though he was tempted to take up baking just for the excuse.
Chapter Three
“This will be our tenth audition.” Scowling, Z picked at his black nail polish as they waited in their third club that day. “And not one manager willing to give us a shot so far.” He wore black dance gear that was sexy but understated. His heels were five-inch faux snakeskin with silver accents and they wouldn’t stop him from kicking someone’s ass if it was necessary.
“We’ll find our place eventually.” Ansel threw an arm around Tam’s shoulder, glittering like always. He’d gone neon-glam for this audition. His exaggerated eyeshadow was multiple shades of bright metallic rainbow and it merged into his futuristic sharp-edged blush. He wore a pair of leggings that resembled a graffiti-covered wall and a crop top that matched. The outfit suited his bold and daring personality.
“How the hell did you become the positive one?” Z asked him.
Ansel flicked platinum blond hair over his shoulder. “Lots of good sex, duh.”
Everyone laughed.
Ever since Ansel had gotten together with his boyfriend, Fitch, he’d become a lot less bitchy. They could blame the change on sex, but Tam knew differently.
“I’ve partied here before. They don’t get huge crowds,” Hop said.
“Maybe we can help with that,” Ansel said.
“You think our fans would follow us?”
“Who knows, but we can say they will and do our best to make it happen.”
The office door on the second floor opened and a six-foot giant with basketballs for shoulders came down the stairs toward them.
“Sassy Boyz?” he asked.
Ansel stood. “That’s us.” He held out his hand, which the man shook.