Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
I grab my phone out of the cupholder. Fuck using the Bluetooth. That’s all I need, for someone I know driving by me while I’m sitting at traffic light or a stop sign, hearing me lose my shit, having Coop and Gia trying to calm my ass down.
“Hey,” Coop says into my ear after answering on the second ring, after I unlocked my phone, brought up his name, and hit call. Yeah, I’m on my phone while driving when I shouldn’t be. Some things are too important not to.
“Hey, you got a few minutes?” It’s Sunday evening, getting later as the sun keeps dipping behind the mountains, and they might have plans I’m interrupting.
“Yeah.” I hear Coop shifting. “Gia, gonna take this. You wanna pause the show? It’s Trace,” he tells her.
“Man, I’m not trying to interrupt you guys. We can talk later. Fuck, I might need your wife on this front, too.” I need a beer, maybe three to get through what I’m about to tell my best friend and his wife. Shit, it takes a village to raise a kid. Between my parents, Cooper, Gia, and me, it’s going to rattle a shit ton of cages, especially because I never let on to his carousing in his younger years, trying to think of it as a phase no matter how many screaming matches we got into. Now it's different. It’s not a quick fling or a girlfriend who comes and goes like the wind.
“Ah, fuck, Wes figure out you’re with his ex?” Cooper asks, obviously in front of Gia. Shit eater can’t keep anything from her. It doesn’t matter now. Josie made that apparent.
“Nope. Ten times worse. Thanks for blabbing my relationship status, too, dickhead.” Gia giggles in the background, further proving my point. I’m on damn speakerphone. The man can’t take a piss without telling her, I swear.
“I’m not sure I want to know, then,” Coop responds.
“Is it about the project? Please don’t tell me there’s a delay,” Gia interjects.
“You don’t, I assure you. The good news is, Coop’s is all good, so don’t worry, Gia. It’s Wes you’re going to need to hold me back from. You won’t believe what I just saw in the fucking town square.” If my hand weren’t on the wheel and the other holding my phone, I’d be running it down my face, trying to get the visual out of my head. It’s like being a teenager all over again and walking in on your parents making out in the kitchen, except this was a shit ton less G-rated.
“Money problems again?” Cooper asks. Gia makes this noise in the back of her throat. When I wouldn’t get Wes out of a bind and help pay his rent when he came home from college, he ran to his pseudo aunt and uncle. Wes didn’t get any from them either. Instead, they told him to get to work at the restaurant, and they’d help him out and pay him weekly in order for him to pay his landlord. I’d already done enough. There was no way I’d be enabling his behavior.
“No. Worse. He was with a woman, not Raquel either and it was not in a friendly scenario if you catch my damn drift. Fuck, how am I going to tell my parents this shit and give them back a portion of the deposit for the venue?” Gia gasps.
“You know, shit, Trace. I didn’t think anything of it. Wes came in a few weeks ago, had lunch with a woman. I figured it was a friend of Raquel’s, trying to get things situated for the wedding or whatnot. They weren’t close, sitting across from one another from what I could see. I had a meeting to get to, so didn’t stick around.” I can hear the remorse in his voice.
“This isn’t your fault. It’s not Gia’s, it’s not mom or dad’s, and it sure as hell isn’t mine. Wes is responsible for Wes. What I’m worried about is Raquel because I’m damn sure not telling her.” I pull into my driveway and shift my truck into Park, taking the keys with me when I head inside the garage after hitting the button once I pulled in on my street.
“No, you’re not. I’m going to kick my godson’s asshole, pointed stilettos and all.” Gia is spitting mad, rightfully so.
“Woman, you aren’t kicking Wes’s ass. Trace and I are. Tomorrow. Tonight, we’re all going to have a stiff fucking drink and mellow out. We’re all pissed. If we go off half-cocked, nothing good is going to happen. You know Wes; he’ll leave, run away from his problems, leaving us to pick up the pieces. I love him like he’s my own, but it’s time for him to sink or swim, Trace.” I feel like all we’ve done is pick up Wes’s fuckups along the way. Maybe Coop is right.