Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“1999 called, they want their fashion back.” I hit her where I know it will hurt, especially coming from me. Lana’s mouth opens and then closes. “Don’t hurt yourself,” I say as I step around her as she tries to come up with something else rude to say to me. She’s not used to girls snapping back. “If ignorance is bliss, you might actually be a happy human being.” I push through the door with that.
I’m too tired after last night to have a go-around with her. Next time. I push through the shop door.
“You showed up,” Joey calls out to me as I enter the office area. Shit. Is he going to be pissed I was snippy with Lana? She appears to be a customer or was.
“You thought I wouldn’t?” I ask.
He’s leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching the door where Lana just left. He’s shaking his head, an irritated expression on his face. “You can’t please the kids from Kingmakers no matter how good of a job you do for them.”
“Don’t take it personally,” I tell him, unpacking my bag. “Lana’s a bitch to everyone. Money or not.”
“Yeah, I know,” he sighs. “My luck has been shit for the past few weeks. I’m behind.”
“Well, luck is on your side now,” I tell him, taking the invoices from his hand. “You go get dirty while I clean all this up.” I motion to the messy-ass desk. “Up,” I tell him.
“I’d really appreciate that, Lucky.”
“Ah, man, first day and already got a nickname.”
“Let’s find out how true the name is,” he says, giving his desk another practical look.
“Go.” I shoo him out. If I know how to do one thing, it’s run a garage.
What I can’t do is stop thinking about Luke and that kiss when I should be thinking about the dead girl.
He’s pissing me off, and he doesn’t even have to be here to do it.
Chapter Fourteen
LUKE
Saturday is the only day we don’t have to be on the ice. I still went over to run some of my own drills and get some shots on net. I needed a way to get rid of the pent-up energy I had. I was hoping to try to get my head back on straight, but it’s not working. The events of last night keep playing through my mind. I know there was a dead girl in the boathouse.
What has been gnawing at me is the fact that Madeline didn’t believe me. She was sure I was fucking with her. I don’t know why that messed with my head. I wanted her to believe and trust me. Of course she shouldn’t. I’m blackmailing her, but can we even call it that anymore?
I’ve never done anything with the information. She doesn’t know about the other things I’ve done that concern her, so she doesn’t get to have that in her anti-trust bank against me. I turned on the tracking on her phone when I connected her phone to mine to get her number. Also, unbeknownst to her, I might have changed a few classes to keep an eye on her.
I know all of these thoughts are me trying to rationalize what I’m doing. My head is fucked, and I know it. I need to give in to the reality of what is happening here. I want Madeline, and likely beyond fucking her out of my system.
Which I always knew was a bullshit thought. The idea of using people for sex doesn’t settle well inside my gut. My mother did that shit. Even at a very young age, I knew she was in it for the money. Everyone was always using each other; nothing was real.
I head off the ice and back to the locker room to change. The first thing I do, however, is check Madeline’s location. I should check social media for any buzz about a missing girl, even though it’s not my thing. But if Madeline has it, I should download the app.
When I see she’s at Joe’s Mechanic Shop, I go ahead and change. Her sister must be having problems with her vehicle. I don’t believe Madeline has one, but it could be Paislee’s.
After an hour of eating, downloading a few social media apps, and making a fake account, I see Madeline is still there. I don’t have shit going on. I could take a walk by to see what she’s up to. She doesn’t know I’m tracking her even if she keeps calling me a stalker. I brush it off as though that were the stupidest shit anyone has ever said about me. It’s kind of tame.
I walk the short distance to the center of town while scrolling through Madeline’s social media. She’s always smiling in her pictures, but as I scroll back to the start again, you can see those smiles aren’t lighting up her face the same as they did a year ago. Madeline is adept at masking how she feels. I suppose we have that in common.