Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
He’s different alright. But he’s just right if you ask me.
“Thank you, so much. I know you want to close.” I inhale the wondrous scent of the beef and cheese enchiladas as Rebecca, Mario’s wife, slides the white plate full of luscious goodness onto the counter.
She waves her hand.
“He’ll be back there cleaning until midnight. Might as well have some company. He’s a grump when he cleans.” She winks and I admire how she has her eyeliner in a perfect cat eye, matched with the ultimate shade of cherry red on her cheerful lips.
As I savor the first cheesy bite, there’s the sound of a loud engine and hoops and hollers of what can only be high school boys, from the street. My stomach knots as the engine cuts off and I catch the sight of a souped-up Ford Mustang carrying a herd of boys that were at the bonfire.
I recognize them as part of David’s crowd and wonder why they’ve left the party without one of their own, but considering the issue of the baby and all, I’m sure their usual boy band antics have had a bit of a monkey wrench thrown in.
They barrel into the restaurant, ignoring the closed sign as Rebecca points them toward a corner booth.
“You guys have trouble in mind, you better rethink it. Mario is here tonight and he will knock your heads together If you so much as spill the salt.”
They make mock scary sounds as they laugh and slide into the booth, shooting me glances as I hold a bit of my enchilada on my fork.
“Don’t worry about them. Mario will snatch them bald-headed if they start up. You eat, sugar,” she says, winking. “How’s your father?” I stuff the bite into my mouth as she quickly corrects herself. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I mean, how is Eli? To me, he’s your father, but that’s in poor taste, I know.”
My skin crawls as I listen to the low chuckles and teasing comments coming from the boys that revolve around my goody-two-shoes-smarty-four-eyes reputation, along with a few digs at ‘crazy Eli’ thrown in for good measure.
I swallow the delicious bite before answering. “He’s fine. You know Uncle Eli, he never wavers.”
She pats my hand as I set down my fork. “That’s good. You want a man like that in your life.”
I wish he could be that man in my life, but I know I can’t live with him forever.
He’s never so much as mentioned another woman, but I’m sure that’s just because I’m around. He’s got a fiercely protective streak and bringing someone else into his life with me at home, just isn’t his way.
For him to move on, I need to move out. But that thought makes me want to curl into a ball and sob. Life without Eli seems…impossible. He’s been everything to me. Even through my moody years, when I’m sure I tried his patience. He didn’t know what to do with a preteen girl besides cook and clean and sew and put up with her tantrums with stoic calm, but he was my rock.
What he doesn’t know, is I received three full-ride scholarships. I only applied because Mrs. Nutbeyer said she’d give me an F in Home Economics if I didn’t. I’ve kept a perfect 4.15 grade point and no wrinkly old anti-feminist was going to change that, so I filled out three applications for the same schools Marcy chose. I used her address too, and when she brought me the envelopes one at a time over the course of a month, to my shock, as long as I remained in good standing at the school, all four years were paid, including dorm and meal plan.
The other thing Eli doesn’t know is, in bed at night, in the quiet of my room, I hug my pillow, press my fingers to that achy, needy spot between my legs, and call him Daddy.
That word sends lust racing through my veins as my heart ricochets in my chest and I think of all the fantasies of my uncle I’ve had over the years. Fantasies that should send me to confession at least and probably to some bad-girl reform school.
“Where’s the mouse?” One of the boys shouts as Rebecca disappears into the kitchen after taking their order.
Anger flames up my back and I grip my fork like a dagger.
“Don’t call him that,” I shout back.
I’m not really a fighter, but one thing Uncle Eli has taught me is you protect your family. At all costs.
“Why?” The one with the red hair and bad skin stands. “You gonna do something about it? Maybe you can knock me out with your report card.”
The other three laugh like ridiculous hyenas as I grit my teeth.
I’m ready to do something, I’m just not sure what, when fate intervenes. Another car pulls up and two other boys that were in my class come barreling through the door.