Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
It’s the right thing to say, but he’s looking around like he’s distracted by something. Or maybe just done with me and looking for any way out. That’s definitely more likely. He’s probably wishing he’d never run into me today and that none of this shitstorm had rained down on him.
I snap my fingers in front of his face. “Helloooo. Crisis, right here. Care to tune in for a second?” I point at myself to make sure he knows exactly where the disaster is, a beautiful one, but nonetheless, I truly am a disaster.
He takes a slow, deep breath. “I am tuned in. Unbelievably so.” He’s obviously annoyed with me again, his tone harder than rock.
Well, join the damn club, buddy. I’m annoyed too. I swear, something like this could only happen to me. My mom told me once that I’m like the calm in the eye of a tornado. I don’t do any damage myself, but the debris that often swirls around me can take out entire swaths of land. Or friends, or whatever Griffin is to me. Brother’s best friend? Frenemy? Something like that. Whatever he is, he really needs to watch out for the next incoming cow before it swipes him off his feet and carries him away to Kansas.
“Look, it’s getting late, and these places are closing right now.” He holds up the list Paul gave us. “Can you just give me tonight? Let me see what I can find out.”
“You’re not talking to them without me,” I declare.
I do not want to talk to criminals. I’ll probably do something stupid or accidentally spill their whereabouts to an undercover cop at the coffee shop or something else ridiculous. But I also don’t want Griffin cleaning up this mess himself. I have some pride.
Plus, I don’t trust him. He hates me, and while he’s been hot and cold today, I don’t know that he’ll truly do everything to get my ring back. He might say he tried but actually spend the evening chilling on his sofa, watching old hockey games and laughing at the fast one he’s pulling over on bratty, bitchy me.
He sighs like I’m the one that screwed up his day and not the other way around but relents. “Fine. I won’t talk to them without you. I’ll pick you up at ten in the morning? We can hit A-to-Z Pawn first.”
I’m not sure about this course of action, but it would be sort of nice to have Griffin at my side if I’m going into sketchy pawnshops and talking to people who probably won’t want to discuss their illegal business model with me. I mean, not Griffin specifically. Any huge, threatening asshole who’s willing to throw hands would do. Most people wouldn’t have a lot of options that’d meet those criteria, but I do. Several, in fact. Notably my brother. But I don’t even consider calling him and telling him what’s happened.
Mostly because I don’t want to hear another one of his lectures about how I make poor decisions and am too impulsive. Usually, I can tune him out and pretend I’m Charlie Brown listening to a wah-wah-wah-wah adult, but in this case, he might have a teeny-tiny point, and I really don’t want to get kicked while I’m down. Surprisingly, so far, Griffin isn’t doing that, though he’d be the first one I’d expect to line up to take his shot when I’m on the outs.
I nod, agreeing with Griffin. Except . . . “If you’re fucking with me, you should know that at 10:01, I’ll be heading there on my own. Don’t be late. And bring me coffee. Skinny vanilla latte, hot.”
He blinks, hopefully memorizing my Starbucks order if he knows what’s good for him.
“Deal.” He nods but pauses. “Don’t answer your phone or your email tonight. Or your door. And don’t ask me why.”
“Why?” I ask immediately.
He tilts his head, giving me a hard look. “Take it or leave it.”
I have no idea what he’s up to, but a semi-self-imposed evening of disconnect would let me cry into a slice of pizza and soothe my loss with a bubble bath, so though I’m suspicious, I agree. “Deal.”
I hold my hand out, and though he looks like the thought of touching me pains him, Griffin slips his big paw of a hand around mine and shakes, sealing our agreement. He releases me quickly, though, and I try really hard not to be offended by that, but it doesn’t work.
He hates me. Always has, always will. And I need to remember that even if he’s helping me, he hates me.
Chapter 9
Griffin
Shit. Shit. Fuck. Damn.
I need these people to get the hell out of my way. I dodge around a guy taking pictures of a dog on the sidewalk with a grumble, nearly crashing into a door that suddenly opens in my path, and spill Penny’s latte over my hand.