Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“What vessel? Your yacht?! This isn’t Gilligan’s Island! You can’t make promises to God that we didn’t agree to, old man. I didn’t sign up for this shit. We’re not your skipper or mates, and you’re not a captain, unless you’re talking about Captain Crunch, thank you berry munch. Tha fuck?!”
“I see you’ve been around your cousin Roman lately. He’s a bad influence, and that influence will get you hurt. Sitting there crackin’ jokes and being silly, making fun of God’s word. You know exactly what the fuck I mean, Kage. Walk in your nature, be who you are! Stop acting like you don’t want this lifestyle I am offering you. It’s the chance of a lifetime.”
“I don’t want shit to do with you. And another thing—don’t you call my mama again with the intention of trying to influence her to convince me to deal with you in any capacity. She told me what you were up to, and she’s not happy about it.”
“Sarah is foolish sometimes. Look, boy. Be honest with me. How happy are you buildin’ bird houses, jackin’ off, and chasin’ geese all damn day? I’m the answer to your prayers. I know you loved Lorna, but you’re too jaded to once more put in the work and effort that it takes to get you a new woman. All you do is fuck. I’ve heard about you and your exploits. I know deep down you need more than that. You need someone in the home. A woman’s touch. You want her back, don’t you boy? I can get her for you. It hurts you deep inside… the one that got away. Wolves mate for life.”
“That was a long time ago, no, I don’t want ’er back, and if I did, I could do so without your help. Most importantly, it’s none of your damn business. It wasn’t your business when we got married, and ain’t none of your business why we split up. You just think you know what happened between me and my ex-wife, when you clearly don’t.” Kage sat on his bed, exhausted now that the conversation was dragging out and going places he didn’t wish to travel to.
“I know deep down that my grandson wants and needs love. That’s what you’ve always wanted. No dad in the picture… a mama that left you to your own devices. You had no discipline. Your father was in a gang, lived a reckless lifestyle, and some of that shit rubbed off on you. He went and got himself killed when you were just a wee one, but it’s in your blood, your DNA, to be a loose cannon. No matter how hard the exterior, inside of you is a hot longing to be different. To survive and thrive. You want to settle down. You just don’t know how to connect with people anymore. You’re feral! You’ve convinced yourself that you don’t care, but you do. I can help you with that, son…”
“How can you help me with affairs of the heart when you’ve been married more times than I have fingers and toes?! I’m not even including all of the affairs and side women you’ve collected like stamps. You don’t know a damn thing about love. I’d ask Hannibal Lector for love and relationship advice before I’d ever dream of comin’ to you. That’s like me going to a snowman to be taught how to start a bonfire.”
Grandpa sighed. “I can make you happy or make you regret the day you were born. You think I can’t pull those strings, sloth?!”
“Well then, since you think you’ve got it like that, you go on right on ahead and pull those strings, Grandpa. But I must warn you, you just may be in for a surprise. Sometimes the puppet master fools himself into thinkin’ he’s in control, when actually, he’s the wooden dummy on a very short thread. The crazy part about it though is that it’s just long enough to hang himself with…”
And then, he ended the call…
CHAPTER SEVEN
A Hammer and a Tarot Card
It was 2:11 AM, and there was a peculiar commotion coming from outside. Clack! Clack! Clack! Poet sat up straight as an arrow, nothing but the moonlight filtering in through her bedroom window, and the tickling sensation of bewilderment and dread covering her in goosebumps.
She heard another bang, and then the low, eerie hum of a deep whisper. With measured movements, she leaned to the left, bent over, and slipped her shotgun out from beneath the bed. As quietly as possible, she slid open her nightstand drawer and loaded the weapon with additional bullets as driblets of sweat crawled down her face. Her stomach morphing into a demanding, pulsing knot, she got to her feet.
She grabbed her robe from the hook of her closet door and put it on before making her way to the window. Pushing aside the curtain, she was bathed in blue lunar light. Nothing unusual outside. Just rows of cabbage and carrots, and trees budding with flowers and merging fruit.