Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 112736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
He looks at Coy’s dad then to me like he doesn’t know what the hell is going on.
“I said get the fuck up,” Coy’s dad growls and I almost giggle at how much it sounds like Coy’s.
“Oh, okay…” the man says, shakily getting to his feet.
He wanders away, still looking very lost and confused.
I watch after him, a little worried, until Coy’s dad gives me a little nudge, forcing me to sit down.
As my butt hits the chair, I can’t help but think, God help me, I can’t believe there are two of them in world…
Coy’s dad lowers himself back down to his own chair, grinning again and still holding my hand, but there’s something strange about the way he has to take his time to do it.
Once he’s seated, he gives my hand a little pat. “So, my boy tells me you lost your memories.”
I don’t know what else to say, so I simply say, “Yes, I did.”
Coy’s dad nods his head gravely, gives my hand another pat, and says, “That’s a damn shame.”
I glance over at Coy to see him watching the two of us intently.
The guy next to Coy’s dad exhales, “Hound,” in a cloud of smoke and holds a half-smoked joint out to him.
Finally releasing my hand, Coy’s dad accepts the joint. Pinching it between his thick fingers, he starts to lift it to his mouth.
Pausing, he glances at me. “You wanna hit?”
Oh shit. I’ve never smoked anything before, but the way Coy’s dad is looking at me, I get the feeling that this is a test or something.
If I refuse will they think I’m not biker enough and kick my ass to the curb?
I cast another quick glance over at Coy and see he’s no longer watching us closely. No, he’s gritting his teeth, his eyes warning me not to do it.
And suddenly I know exactly what Levi is feeling whenever he defies me.
I shrug my shoulders and turn back to Coy’s dad. “Sure.”
Coy’s dad nods his head almost in encouragement as he holds the joint out to me.
I notice his fingers shaking a little as I carefully take the joint from him and make a mental note to ask Coy about it later.
Lifting the joint to my lips, I look back at Coy as I smugly suck in a hit.
His eyes are gleaming murder and I’m feeling entirely too pleased with myself.
Until the smoke actually hits my lungs.
“Oh shit,” I choke and bend over as my body tries to cough everything in my chest up.
Coy’s dad bursts into laughter and gives me a slap on my back. “You could never hold your smoke, Allison girl!”
Eyes watering, nose stuffy, I think I can taste my lungs as I cough and cough and cough.
Coy starts to stomp over to me, but his father waves him off. “Go on, stop hoverin’ like a mother hen, son, and get outta here. I got her.”
“Old man—” Coy starts to argue, but his dad cuts him off.
“I said get!”
I’d laugh at the way the two of them glare at each other if I wasn’t trying to stop coughing to death.
Sucking in an angry breath, Coy’s jaw clenches even harder and he turns, stomping away.
Coy’s dad bursts into a fresh round of laughter and he gives me few gentle pats on the back before he takes the joint from my fingers.
Lifting it up to his mouth, he sucks in a long hit and asks tightly, “You got a drink?”
I shake my head, my coughing slowing, but my body still trying to expel my insides.
“Are you fuckin’ shittin’ me?” he exhales, looking offended. “You ain’t been offered a drink yet?”
My throat too scratchy to speak, I shake my head again.
Coy’s dad sucks in another hit, his eyes gleaming with the same murder Coy’s had a few seconds ago.
Exhaling, his attention turns to the crowd.
“Hey, you! Mouse!” he suddenly yells out so loud I jump a little. “Get your ass over here!”
A nervous looking brunette woman not much older than me walks over, her eyes wide.
“Yes, Hound?” she asks, her voice trembling.
“Go get the Pres’s ol’ lady a beer,” Coy’s dad growls at her before he passes the joint back to the guy that handed it to him.
She nods and walks away like she can’t walk away fast enough.
Coy’s dad grumbles, “Worthless sweetbutt,” under his breath and shakes his head.
Sweetbutt? That’s a weird insult.
I giggle and immediately regret it when I start coughing again.
Coy’s dad gives me a worried look and gently pats me on the back again. “We’ll talk some more when she gets back with that beer for ya.”
I nod and lean back in the chair as Coy’s dad and the guy beside him pass the joint back and forth.
I know I didn’t get much off that hit I took, I mostly choked on it, but I’m starting to feel a little buzzed and light-headed.