Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“Depends on why you’re asking,” I answer carefully. “Am I going to need bail money?” I’m half-serious, and it seems warranted to warn Oliver to stay away from Jesse a bit. For both their sakes.
There’s a loud ruckus of noise, and I hear Jesse shouting to someone on his end. “I fucking know it! Robbie’s on his way!”
“Robbie? What’s wrong?” My heart is racing instantly. Why does Jesse need Officer Milson?
Jesse growls and says, “Find The Asshole and haul his ass out to Township. Chrissy’s gone psycho out here.”
“What’s she doing?”
There’s another round of shouting, and the line goes dead. With wide eyes, I look at my phone to double-check that it didn’t just cut out, and then to Oliver, who’s standing. “Heard enough. Let’s go.”
“I’ll drive. C’mon!” We rush down the hall, scaring the hell out of Joanne, who screeches and tries to reprimand me like a child. But I wave her off, yelling behind me, “Tell Ben the shit’s hit the fan and I’ll be in touch.”
He’ll know that means I’m going to handle it. I just hope I can.
As soon as we get in my car, Oliver is dialing Chrissy on repeat to no avail. By the fifth time I hear the “leave a message” greeting, I think we both know there’s no stopping whatever’s happening until we’re there.
I press the pedal a little more, glad my car’s peppy and that I know these roads like the back of my hand. I try to figure out what the hell Aunt Chrissy could be doing that could possibly make Jesse so desperate that he’s looking for Oliver, but I can’t come up with anything.
As I turn into the Township development, I see what Jesse meant when he said “psycho,” but even seeing it with my own two eyes, I don’t believe it.
The first house in the subdivision is under a one-woman attack. The windows are busted in jagged lines across the front, the brick is crumbling in some sections, and the garage door has neon-pink spray paint reading “whore” on it. And that’s on top of Chrissy’s SUV parked sideways in the middle of the tiny lawn.
“What happened?” Oliver murmurs.
“Guessing Chrissy reached the ‘hell hath no fury’ phase.” It’s not a helpful observation, but it does seem to be true.
Chrissy is behind the wheel of a big piece of equipment, some sort of bulldozer type thing with a caged cockpit and forks on the front. It jerks a bit as it revs up, but I’m honestly a little impressed that she got the thing running and moving. She’s heading for the front door.
“Knock, knock. Avon calling, bitch!” Chrissy shouts maniacally.
Jesse is waving his arms, his cap in his hands, like he’s trying to distract and redirect a raging bull without standing in front of the charging machine. “Chrissy! What the fuck are you doing? Stop!”
She completely ignores him, and I get the sense that Jesse’s already said that a few dozen times. He sees Oliver and me running up and shouts, “Lawyer Man, get your client before she kills someone!”
Oliver watches shrewdly, but makes zero move to do anything about the damage Chrissy’s inflicting on the home.
“Worthless.” Jesse’s judgment does seem fairly accurate when Oliver starts texting on his phone. Meanwhile, Chrissy’s made her way to the front door and is ramming it wildly, leaving big gouges in the surface and knocking over the shrubbery in the front flower bed. She’s letting out some sort of battle cry that sounds like a mix of banshee and overly dramatic Siberian husky.
“Come out and face me like a man, Jed! Oh, that’s riiiiight. You’re not one without your little blue pills!”
Damn, Chrissy’s telling all of Jed’s business.
She’s made her way through the door, though, and is attempting to use the front steps as some sort of ramp to get into the foyer of the townhome.
“What can I do?” I ask, willing to jump in to save someone . . . or something.
Jesse looks past me with relief. “There’s Robbie. Just stay back so you don’t get hurt.”
The sirens on the car whoop once, enough to get the small crowd’s attention, and Robbie gets out of his patrol car with his hand on his hip like we’re the danger. “What seems to be the problem?”
Jesse takes the lead, shoving his cap on his head as he explains. “Chrissy came out here, ranting about Jed’s mistress living in one of the town houses. She started destroying it with anything she could get her hands on.” He throws his hands wide, indicating the current condition of the house. “That place was one hundred percent done, and now look at it.”
He sounds both sad and mad about the home’s needless destruction.
Robbie nods and cautiously steps over, near where Chrissy is digging the forks of the machine into the siding after giving up on the front door. “Hey, Chrissy, need you to stop this nonsense so we can have us a civil conversation, m’kay?”