KING(48)

“Awesome!” Preppy hopped from one foot to the other. “I’m going to go iron my good bow tie.”

“Prep?”

“Yeah, Boss-Man?”

“It’s six in the f*cking morning.”

“And?”

“You want to take her out on Saturday right?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s Monday.”

“Ah.”

“So how about you go wipe the f*cking blow from under your nose and get some f*cking sleep. Iron your good bow tie tomorrow.” Preppy may not have to listen to me, but the need to tell him what to do would never go away.

I’d forgotten while I was away that Preppy was one hell of a partier.

We both were.

Or, I used to be.

Before Max.

Before prison.

Before her.

Preppy wiped the powder from under his nostrils and rubbed it onto his gums.

“Yes, sir,” Preppy said with a mock salute. He turned to leave.

“And Prep?” I called out.

“Yeah, Boss?” he asked, stopping mid-stride.

“You’re taking her out as her friend only. You got that?”

“I got that.”

“Good. Because if you so much as touch her, I’ll f*cking kill you.”





Chapter Sixteen




Doe


“What is all this?” I asked, staring down at the plate upon plate of sliced meats and cheese.

“Sandwich stuff.” King said, tossing me a roll.

“Yes, I can see that. But why are we making sandwiches on the dock?”

I wondered what his ulterior motive was. King didn’t seem like the type to picnic on the dock, no matter what the situation. Plus, in the entire time I’d been staying with King, he’d never once made a meal for me.

Or even eaten a meal with me.

“Because it’s a nice day to be outside, and because who the f*ck doesn’t like sandwiches?” King sat on one of the plastic chairs surrounding wooden table that was screwed to the dock so it wouldn’t fly away during a storm. “And Preppy said…I don’t f*cking know, just go with it.” King loaded his roll with salami and cheese and dug out a huge scoop of mayo from the jar with a spatula.

“That’s enough mayo to choke a horse,” I said, carefully selecting turkey and bacon for my own sandwich.

“Have you actually seen a horse choke from ingesting too much mayo?” he asked.

“I very well could have. I just don’t remember.” I grabbed a handful of Cheetos from the bag and smushed them into the top slice of bread with both hands. King pulled the other chair up along side his until the arms were touching and motioned for me to sit down.

And then OUR arms were touching.

“So what’s it like?” King asked, popping the top off a beer and handing it to me.

“What’s what like?” I asked, setting my paper plate in my lap.

“Not remembering anything. I keep thinking about what that would be like and I can’t imagine it.”

“It’s…” I searched my brain for the words but only one popped into my mind over and over, “…empty.”

“You’re a lot of things, pup, but empty isn’t one of them.” King tucked an unruly strand of hair behind my ear.

“Oh yeah? Then, you tell me what I am, because I can’t think of anything that doesn’t have to do with me losing my memory.” I took a bite of my lunch that was so big I could barely close my mouth around it.

King laughed. “Well, for starters…you’re kind of quirky.”

“Quirky?”

“Pup, did you or did you not just put Cheetos on your sandwich?”

“Duly noted. Okay, quirky. I can handle that. Keep going. What else do you think you know about me?”

“Well, you’re bold. Brave. I would even go as far as to say that you’re irritatingly feisty. You speak about three hours before you think. You ask way too many goddamn questions. You have this dimple on your left cheek that comes out when you’re smiling, but it also shows up, along with the one on the right cheek, when you’re pissed off.” Embarrassment burned my neck as if I was standing too close to a fire. “Your neck and your face get red when you’re embarrassed. It starts at your neck. Right here.” King lightly wrapped the palm of his hand around my throat. “Then, it jumps up to your cheeks.” He brushed his thumb over my cheekbone. “Then, it travels all the way up to these ears.”