Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 94897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
A turned her gaze to him.
“Game controller bundle. Never been used. It’s worth two hundred bucks,” she shared.
Keeping a hold on the kid, Jag jostled the backpack.
“That bundle in here, kid?” he asked.
“You shouldn’t be touching me, and you can’t search me,” Mal sniped. “Let me go and fuck off.”
“Language, bro,” Jag replied.
“Fuck you, bro,” Mal returned. Jag sighed and turned his attention back to A as Mal lost it and shouted, “Let me go!”
Jag again looked down at the kid, saw his grip had loosened on his straps, and said, “Sure,” let his shirt go but did it stripping him of his backpack.
“Hey!” he cried, whirling and jumping on Jag as Jagger held it high and out of the kid’s reach.
Jagger ignored him and asked A, “You want me to look in it or you want it?”
“Give me my pack! You can’t take my pack! You can’t search my pack!” the kid shrieked, still jumping on Jag.
“Everything cool here?”
Jagger turned and saw the movers were now in the mix.
“Yeah. It’s cool. This kid stole a game controller from my girl here,” he told them, jerking his head to A.
The movers looked from Jagger, who was in jeans, a black tee, and a motorcycle club cut, to A, who was wearing a T-shirt with The Blob movie poster on it, a high-waisted corduroy miniskirt, white ankle socks and Doc Marten Mary Janes.
The movers visibly relaxed.
Then again, Jag was the kind of guy who made a lot of men tense.
And A was the kind of woman who undoubtedly made a lot of men relax.
She looked like a seriously toned-down Harley Quinn, but still with that grown-up schoolgirl vibe that was cool as hell and hot AF.
“We have this covered, it’s all good. Unless…should we ask them to call the cops, J?” A asked, and he knew with how she did it, she had no intention of phoning the police.
The kid didn’t read that.
“No!” Mal shouted, stepping away from Jagger, shaking his head. “No cops.”
A leveled her eyes on him. “Mal, this isn’t candy. This isn’t stickers. This isn’t a Lionel Richie koozie.”
A Lionel Richie what?
“This is serious,” A continued, “and I think maybe the cops should be involved.” She looked to Jag. “So maybe leave it in the backpack. The cops can search it when they get here.”
“Arch, come on,” Mal said, his voice now whiney. “Take it back, I don’t care. Whatever. I just nabbed it ’cause I was pissed you kicked me out of group.”
Arch?
Was her name Arch?
Or was that a nickname?
No one was named Arch.
It had to be a nickname.
“So you took it,” A noted.
The kid bit his lower lip.
Yup, not that Jagger doubted it, but that controller was in the kid’s pack.
“We’ve got an issue here, Mal,” A said to the kid, her voice softer. She turned her attention to the movers and called, “We’re good. We’ll work it out. Sorry to disturb.”
“Right, you need any help, we’re right here,” one of the guys said.
Yeah, they’d lost sight of him and Mal and they were all about “Arch.”
Jag looked heavenward.
The movers shifted away as A said to Mal, “You know I’m gonna have to tell your mom about this. And gotta remind you, we made a deal. I didn’t tell her about the other stuff you stole, you didn’t pull any more hijinks. And here we are, more hijinks. You reneged. I’m on the phone the minute I get back to the store.”
His mom?
Okay, was she a teacher or counselor or something?
And if she was, what was the store?
“No!” the kid cried again. “No, Arch. All right. I stole it. Okay? All right? I admit it. Take it back. No beefs. Just don’t talk to Mom.”
“I can’t have you coming into the store and stitching me up, Mal,” she said to the kid. “I’ve got things to do that don’t include chasing you through Denver.”
Mal turned his head away.
“What’s the deal?” she asked him.
Mal kept his head turned away.
“What’s the deal, Mal?” she asked again. “We never had any problems before. Why are you suddenly being a pill?”
Mal said nothing and kept his gaze averted.
“She asked you a question, bro,” Jag prompted.
Mal turned his head at that, tipped it back, and glared at Jag. “Who are you?”
“Who he is isn’t relevant,” A stated.
Well, fuck me very much.
Jag scowled at A.
“He thinks he’s relevant,” Mal muttered.
“He’s not relevant to you,” A amended. “Or this situation. Now, what’s the deal, Mal?” she kept at him.
“You’re right. Mom doesn’t know I’m kicked out of group. I didn’t tell her,” Mal spat out like the words didn’t taste good.
A leaned back and crossed her arms on her chest.
“Right,” she said slowly. “So what have you been doing after school?”
“None of your business,” Mal replied.
“It’s my business, you want another shot at group,” she said.