Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Now that they were all together, Mike believed he was almost there. Content.
He had Bishop, Trent—Trent, whose parents abandoned him, was Bishop’s childhood friend and pretty much Mike’s adopted son—and a successful business he owned with his best friend. There was nothing more he could ask for. All Mike had to do now was keep his nose clean, keep his anger in check, and not fuck it all up. He could live like this the rest of his days and be a happy man. He didn’t give a shit about his personal life or lack thereof.
His last girlfriend had dumped him for working too hard, not taking her out enough, ignoring her needs, being emotionally unavailable, blah, blah, blah. At least that’s all the bullshit Erin spouted before she’d walked out of his front door for good. He’d wanted to feel bad about the loss of a two-year relationship, but he’d only felt relief when it happened and immense relief now.
Mike had bigger things to consider these days instead of getting revenge, protecting his pride, or saving face. He only had one reputation to defend, and that was their business. “I fucked up, Man.” Which, in Mike’s language, translated to “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, I know, but that’s just what we do sometimes,” Manny said in that raspy grit, and Mike knew they were square. “Look. I get it. I know it burns to let that privileged little shit get one in on you, but just take the L and let it go. Everyone gets burned, Mike—the blaze will go out in time.”
“If those charges aren’t dropped, then the fire won’t fade in me… it’ll only burn hotter.”
“Then you know what to do.”
Yeah, he did. He needed to find a way to keep his composure and stop snapping.
“I told Trent to pick you up. He should be there in an hour or so, I guess.”
Mike groaned, clutching his filthy hair. “Why in the hell did you call my son?”
“Because I had no other choice. Someone had to open the shop this morning, Mike. Or did you forget we have a full schedule today and we’re down three men, including you.”
“I, um… I…” Mike didn’t know what else to say. He’d been an impulsive jackass… again.
“Trent will be there soon. Just hurry up and get your ass to the Town Center site so I’m not stuck in Virginia Beach until dark doing the property by myself. It’s my night to cook dinner, and Lisa will have my ass if I don’t,” Manny said before he hung up.
Mike slammed down the receiver and pressed his forehead against the cold concrete beside it. Now he had to look Trent in the eye and explain to his son why he’d been tossed in lockup overnight when all he did was harp on them about keeping their noses clean and staying out of trouble. Maybe once he explained what happened, Trent would understand.
Mike checked his watch for the fifth time in twenty minutes since his cell phone was dead by the time he got his property back. He was released on bond with a summons to appear in circuit court in three and a half months. Wonderful. Most of the judges knew him and had threatened him more than once that they better never see him in their courtroom again. They didn’t like him because he was too slippery, and prosecutors could never secure a single witness that wasn’t too afraid to testify against him in the past. But in this case, Mike was innocent. He was going to have to make sure his client Jim was on his side and provided the surveillance tapes to the prosecutor’s office as soon as his health would allow. Then all the charges should be dropped. He might even have to dip into his savings for a lawyer because he didn’t trust the justice system to give him a fair shake—it never had before.
“Damnit! Where the hell is that boy? I swear—” Before Mike could finish cursing, he saw Trent’s dusty pickup turn into the parking lot. “About fuckin’ time.” Mike was already reaching for the door handle when he noticed it wasn’t Trent behind the wheel; it was his boyfriend, Wood. “What are you doing here?”
“Trent got called into work early, so he asked me to come,” Wood answered with an annoying grin curving one side of his mouth. “You look great, Mike.”
Mike got in and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the dashboard. “I’m glad you like the look of utter fuckin’ disdain, Wood. Now, drive.”
“You’re welcome,” Wood muttered, then put the truck in gear and jerked away from the curb.
“What took you so long?” Mike let his head fall against the headrest, his right temple throbbing. He was so damn angry, he was trying to breathe and not rage, but it was far harder than it sounded.