Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 129571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
What the fuck? What does that mean? He has me so much on edge that I’m dissecting everything he says.
“Oh well.” He clapped.
I jumped again.
“I have so many places I want to take you. Guess where we’re going tomorrow.”
I braced myself. “I have no idea.”
“The famous Jack the Ripper London tour.”
I waved him away. “That’s not exactly where I want to be right now.”
“I’ve always wanted to do it. Come on. It’ll be fun.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Jasmine, really? I’m your father.”
“I wish you would stop saying that.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve pretended to be my friend’s dad for all these years, and now you want to declare over and over that you’re my father? Let’s calm down a bit.”
“I’m your father and I want to make up for lost time.”
“I feel like you’ve made up enough.”
“Oh no, Jasmine, I’ve just begun.” And then he tossed me a wicked smile, the one that had started becoming a main feature of all of my nightmares. “The cuisine here is excellent.”
I was sickened to admit it, but my mind did perk up a bit. If I had to move on and get away from Chase’s love, I damn sure planned to stuff my mouth with quality food. “I’m not big on British food. What’s good here?”
“I’ve got a cook at the flat that can serve you a Chelsea Bun that will make you burn your US passport and move here.”
“All that for a bun?”
“Picture it. Rich dough. Homemade. Drenched in cinnamon. Lemon zest and other sweet spices are rolled into the square spirals. There’s a succulent filling—brown sugar and dried mixed fruit. The glaze is sugared milk.”
“Meh.”
“This is what the royals ate in the 1700s.”
“Slavery was also big in the 1700s. Excuse me, if I’m not eager to learn from the leaders of my past.”
He ignored the comment. “Street food is good here. Everything from all over the world. You get the best Turkish kebabs on Green Lanes. You hate Chinese, but there’s some good ones on Gerard Street in Soho. If you get an aching for Caribbean food, I’ve got a spot on Electric Avenue.”
“That name sounds familiar.”
“What name?”
“Electric Avenue.”
“It was a bad 80’s song about the riots there.”
“Umm ... all right.”
“Brick Lane will give you the best curry—”
“Uh,” I held up my hand, “I think I got it. Basically, I’ll be gaining twenty pounds here. Sounds like a plan. I’m going to drink and eat the whole trip.”
“You sound like your sister. She lights a joint before breakfast.” He shook his head. “That’s the last thing she needs. Her head is already gone.” He turned to me so quick, my nerves flared on edge. “By the way, I need help with that.”
“What?”
“Troy and Vivian.”
“What about them?”
“Let’s not pretend like they’re not having sex right under our noses.”
Hey, buddy, can we keep the vomit-inducing down to a three topic minimum?
I gulped in my instant disgust. “Look, I try to forget about that particular part of them, all the time.”
“Vivian has to get over this. You understand, right?”
Get over it? Do you realize how long they’ve loved each other?
Ever since we were young, Troy had a way of getting Vivian to agree to anything. She used to do all of his homework in middle school, although she claimed it was tutoring. When he ran away from home, she hid him in her bedroom for a whole week and didn’t even tell me he was there. Four years ago, she’d even let him borrow her car. The same car that was impounded when he was caught inside of it with our brother, Neil, who happened to have several pounds of drugs in a duffle bag in the backseat. Troy hadn’t known about the drugs, but it had been irresponsible letting Neil in Vivian’s car in the first place.
Vivian didn’t care.
Once Troy got out this last time, things heated up. He moved in with us because I wanted him out of South End and away from all its taunting dangers that always led to jail. Our roommate situation provided excellent opportunity for both of them to explore their feelings. They fell fast and hard. Giggling in each other’s arms in the afternoon. Cuddling all morning. Sex all night. It was hard not to vomit repeatedly.
Then I discovered Chase’s investigation on me and realized we were all siblings. They’d been having a difficult time adjusting. Vivian almost committed suicide. Troy couldn’t be in the same room as her without drooling, and then feeling sickened that he craved her so much.
“I think they have gotten over it in these recent months,” I said. “Troy definitely—”
“She sneaks into his room, when she thinks I’m sleeping. My security reports other things.”
My stomach rumbled. Vomit would come, if we continued down this road. “Maybe—”
“I won’t let this continue. You understand that?”
“Yes.”
“I won’t let that go on.”