Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 121887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Thus, to make him cooperate, we bought him porn.
This wasn’t my favorite thing to do, but needs must in my campaign to escape Javi picking me up to take me to dinner, and this was a good excuse that Jessie bought (though Shanti didn’t).
I also nabbed two of Willow’s birthday cake cupcakes. I did this in an effort to maybe wean Mr. Stupidhead off pornographic bribes and onto baked goods ones.
After I procured his stuff, I met the girls at the storage units, and since there were now more of us, we rolled out in two of our undercover vehicles, the Honda Accord and the Kia Sportage.
Our destination was the motel where Jinx did her business.
She’d texted Luna that her client time was going over a bit, but she’d chat with us after she was done.
So we pulled into the Sun Valley Motor Lodge, a place I wanted to say had seen better days, but even at its inception, I wasn’t sure it did.
Mr. Stupidhead worked nighttime reception.
When we angled out of our vehicles, he looked at us through the windows and did one of his usual welcomes.
This time, he pretended to fashion a noose around his neck and tug upward, whereupon his head lolled to the side, and he closed his eyes and stuck his out tongue.
So, again.
He wasn’t our biggest fan.
We entered and he straightened to say, “How are there more of you? Why are there more of you?”
Luna leaned into a forearm on the counter close to him and replied, “A good thing grows when you nourish it, my man.”
He looked to me because I was carrying the bags.
Since he gave me the willies because he usually stared at my breasts (he wasn’t now because he knew I carried porn, so he was looking at the bags), I tried not to get close as I put them on the counter and scooted them toward him.
The bag with the porn magazines was swept away and disappeared faster than I could blink.
He then nabbed the white bakery bag, opened it, and we all, including Mr. Stupidhead, let out a collective “Ahhhhhh,” when the birthday cake goodness smell wafted out of it.
It was at this juncture a miracle happened.
Mr. Stupidhead lifted his head from staring in the bag, and there was a look of sheer wonder on his face.
I could feel us all come alert, because this was so far from the way Mr. Stupidhead behaved normally, it took us off guard.
“You brought me cupcakes?” he asked.
And was I seeing things?
Did he have tears in his eyes?
Everyone looked my way because I hadn’t shared I was going to do that.
“Uh, yeah,” I confirmed what didn’t need confirmation since we could all smell them and he’d just looked at them.
“I haven’t—” He stopped abruptly and swallowed, before he carefully rolled the top of the paper bag back up, reverently set it under the counter, and asked, “What do you women need to know?”
We were so stunned by his open cooperation, no one moved or spoke.
“Well?” he pushed.
“We’re actually here to talk to Jinx. We’re just hanging with you to kill time while we wait for her to be done,” Raye told him.
“You got some time to wait,” Mr. Stupidhead replied. “She’s with her special regular.”
After that, he wagged his scraggly brows.
But we were confused.
“Her special regular?” Jessie asked.
“The accountant,” Mr. Stupidhead said.
“BMW Accountant?” Luna queried.
Mr. Stupidhead nodded. “One and the same. For months, they’re here two, three nights a week. They take their time. He brings her shit. Tonight, it was flowers.”
Holy shmoly!
Flowers?
I looked to Jess, Luna and Raye.
They were looking toward me and each other.
Because this was huge!
If it was who we were thinking, a man we’d seen leave in a BMW after a session with Jinx, he was good looking (and Jinx said he had a rather large member).
Wow!
Yay!
“What’s going on?” Willow asked.
“I don’t know, but I’m sensing love is in the air,” Raye answered.
I was beginning my first Pretty Woman fantasy for Jinx in my head when Luna turned to Mr. Stupidhead. “You hear anything about some dude who got his throat cut last night?”
Mr. Stupidhead paled. “Are you shittin’ me?”
“Not even a little bit,” Luna told him.
Now he started to look sick.
“How did you bitches go from searching for missing people to being involved with dead people?” he demanded.
“We’re not involved,” Raye said, but ended with, “as such.”
“No, I don’t know dick about anything like that,” Mr. Stupidhead said. “And normally, I wouldn’t give a shit what happens to any of you, but you brought me cupcakes, so now I’m tellin’ you, whatever this is, get your asses out of it.”
Yet another man telling us what to do.
Obviously, this meant I had to start quoting some lyrics.
When I did, Raye got into it with me, and before you knew it, all of us were singing Taylor’s “The Man,” and perhaps there was a little dancing (me and Luna), and Mr. Shithead was again banging his head against the counter.