Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
I saw Ricky and Big Al playing a team game against two women I’d never seen before. They appeared to be losing. That was something. Maybe I’d offer to play one of the women after I got myself a drink. A new challenge was always welcome.
“Camden,” Monica said with a wide smile on her face. “Long time. Haven’t seen you since Christmas.”
“It’s good to be back.”
“You look to be in better sorts than the last time I had to carry your drunken ass to your place.”
I grinned as she slid a glass of scotch across the bar. “As much as I appreciate you helping me back to my place, I don’t think I’ll need that tonight.”
“Excellent. A woman can only do so much.” She poured two tequila shots without comment. “You have some pep in your step. What’s going on in the world of Camden Percy?”
I took the shot, and we held it aloft before downing it. Someone called for Monica’s attention. I waved her off to fill some more drink orders. She came back about fifteen minutes later and refilled my scotch.
“So… tell Mama Monica what’s going on.”
“Things are good,” I confided. “They’re really good.”
“I love to hear that,” she said as she poured a pitcher of beer. “Is this about your wife?”
I nodded. “Yes, she moved back in.”
“That’s great, Camden,” she said, pushing the pitcher down to a group of guys and pocketing the tip. “Was it the truce? Did you take my advice?”
“Yes, and no.”
I had no idea why it was so easy to talk to Monica. But she was probably the only person I’d met who actually seemed to care. She had no stake in the outcome. Who the hell was she going to tell my problems to? I’d known her two years, and she’d never once blabbed my problems to the press. I came as close to trusting her as anyone.
“We tried the truce, but it ended up backfiring. Got a lot worse from there. But we talked, and I think we’re back on even footing.”
“Love to see one of my boys in love,” Monica said, batting her eyelashes at me.
My lips turned down at the comment. In love. It was hard to even think that word. Love meant criticism. Love meant responsibility. Love meant pain. Love had never meant Katherine Van Pelt with all of her fire and all of her fierce determination. It had never meant…happiness.
“I’ve… never actually said that to anyone before,” I said in such a small voice that I wasn’t sure she’d even heard me.
She was busy putting together a round of shots for six women who didn’t even look to be of legal drinking age.
But when she finished, she whirled back to me. A frown was on her lips. “That’s awful, Camden. Your family never said it?”
I shook my head with a stiff laugh. “You don’t know my dad. He’s not exactly the affectionate type.”
She sank her hip into the bar. “I know his type.”
“Yeah? A right bastard?”
She chuckled as she grabbed the tip from the girls, who had turned their attention to me sitting there, alone. One of the girls giggled and nudged her friend forward.
Monica put her hand out. “Sorry, ladies. Wouldn’t try your luck with this one.”
The girl’s eyes rounded, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“Here,” I said, putting down a fifty. I nodded at the girls. “Shots on me.”
“Oh, wow, thanks!” she said with another giggle and returned to her friends.
“You know that’s going to bring upon unwanted attention,” Monica admonished.
“After you shooed them away?” I asked. “I softened the blow.”
“Well, fine then,” she said as she disappeared to take another order.
I slid my glass across the bar and lounged back, observing the crowd playing pool. I was intrigued by the women playing Ricky. It appeared they’d beaten him. Ricky was an all right player, too. I’d have to get in on that.
Monica appeared then with a beer with an orange slice on the rim. “Can you take this to Big Al when you go over there to beat those women?”
“How did you know?”
She snorted. “I’ve been watching you for two years, son. I think I know who your next victim is.”
“Fair enough. I’ll take another scotch, too.”
“Sure thing.” She poured the drink but held on to it as she looked up at me. Her eyes were full of concern, where there was normally only humor. “You know… if you love this girl, you let her know. You hear me? Waiting doesn’t help anyone. Take it from someone who knows.”
Then she passed me the drink and disappeared again. I considered her words. They were heartfelt. I could feel it to my bones. I knew that she was right.
Maybe I should tell Katherine how I really felt. Maybe the time for waiting was over.
29
Katherine
My girls looked like straight fire. I hadn’t seen so much skin in one place since Puerto Rico. English was in a teeny-tiny little black dress with mile-high heeled booties. She wore a sash that read Divorced AF and a shiny tiara. The rest of us were in gold outfits to complement her black. Together, we looked like every boy’s wet dream.