Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Two
Page 7

“Took you fucking long enough,” King said, looking like a proud parent whose kid just said it’s first words.
“We’ve missed you,” Doe added as my eyelids grew heavy again. It was a struggle to keep them open, but there was no way I was closing them so quickly after finally getting a look at two of the people I never thought I’d see again. “So much.”
King tucked her into his side and kissed her on top of the head.
“Is there anything we can get you?” Doe asked, wiping the moisture from under her eye with her pinky.
“Yeah,” I answered, turning my head to the side so I could see them better. A sensation like a million electrical wires misfiring at the same time sent jolts of pain down my spine. Before I could stop it I let out a strangled cry.
“What’s wrong? Do you need the doctor? Tell me what you need, Prep,” Doe demanded, sounding panicked. She placed a hand on my shoulder and it felt like she stuck a hot branding iron into my skin.
“No,” I said, clearing my throat. “But there are some things I do need.”
Doe darted from the room and came back seconds later with a mini pink Barbie notebook and matching pen. “Go ahead,” she said. She turned the page of the notebook and clicked the back of the pen. It made a cheering sound.
King knowingly gazed down at me like he knew what I was up to. It was a great look. It told me that no matter how much time had passed; he still knew I was an asshole.
I was fucking home.
I kept my eyes trained on King while I dictated my list to Doe. “You ready?” I asked. She nodded.
“Okay, Imma need some blow, the good shit, not the kind you get from that dick over in Harper’s Ridge. Strippers of course, no less than C-cups, and they have to be open to all things anal.” I thought about it for a moment. “Okay, that would make them hookers. Scratch strippers and insert hookers. I need the blood of a virgin goat, three bottles of vintage of Mexican tequila with the worm still in tact.” I glanced at Doe whose pen wasn’t moving over the page. She raised her eyebrows and lowered her pen to glare at me over the multi-colored notebook. Tears streamed down her face.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she sputtered, dropping the pen and Barbie book on the floor she threw her tiny body on top of mine in a long tight hug. She buried her face in my neck and I felt her hot tears burning against my skin as they poured from her eyes.
I ignored the blood curdling pain radiating from my muscles. I even resisted the urge to scream or even flinch, because I didn’t want to scare her away. “Missed you too, kid,” I whispered. We stayed there, wrapped in our one sided hug for a long while until King cleared his throat and Doe lifted her head from my neck and looked up at him. “He’s back,” she sniffled.
“Yeah, Pup. He’s back,” King agreed, sounding like there was a ‘BUT’ following that statement that he was holding back.
“I’m back,” I muttered, “but King STILL thinks you hugged me too long and is now hoping I fall back into a coma soon because I got to feel your fantastic tits pressed up against me.”
“Something like that,” King said.
Doe rolled her eyes playfully as King pulled her off me.
“‘Cause I’m a total catch right now. Nothing screams, come hop on my cock like a battered body and a coma.” My throat was no longer as scratchy and it was becoming less painful to speak in longer sentences. “By the way, did your tits get bigger?” I asked Doe. “‘Cause I feel like they’ve gotten bigger.” I narrowed my gaze on her tight yellow tank top. Yep, they were definitely bigger.
“Prep,” King warned.
“There’s a lot to tell you,” Doe said, placing her hand over King’s chest. “So much has happened since...” King put his hand over hers.
“Before you guys say anything else, I’m going to suggest an edit,” I said.
“A what?” King asked.
I held up a finger. “Just follow me for a second. Instead of tip-toeing around the subject by saying when I ‘was gone’ and instead of stating the obvious, like referring to it as ‘that time I was held against my will and tortured to the verge of death over and over again at the hands of a psychopath’, I’m recommending we switch it up a tad bit.”
“Okaaay...”
“As much as I’d never like to think or speak of it again it’s just not fucking realistic. And since it’s fucking impossible to just NOT talk about it when so much of what is going on in my life right has to do with shit that happened while I was...in Narnia.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You want us to refer to your time in a hole under the MC as Narnia?”
“Yep, that’s what I said.”
King started to mumble which made me realize that someone was missing, a very big very shirtless someone.
“Where the fuck is Bear?” I made a move to sit up but my wrists were unable to support my weight to successfully make the transition. King bent over and lifted me up under my armpits, adjusting me into a much more comfortable slightly reclined position.
Neither King nor Doe answered my question. Instead, they looked at each other like they were having some sort of telepathic unspoken conversation that I wasn’t to have any part of.
“What?” I asked, “I mean, where the fuck could Bear be that’s more important? Unless of course he’s out getting the hookers and blow, in which case, I might make a small exception.”
“I’m right here, motherfucker,” Bear grumbled as he came into view, standing on the other side of Doe. I didn’t know if he’d been there the entire time or if he’s just arrived. Either way one thing was clear to me right off the bat.
“All this time...” I said. “And you still couldn't find a motherfucking shirt?”
Bear snickered and placed his hand over my forearm in the same way he always shook hands with the bikers in his club. “Welcome back, brother.”
Doe and King shifted over to grant Bear more access to me. He knelt down and leaned over the bed. I missed the easy launch of insults between us. I missed everything about the stupid fucker, even that stupid quirky smile the chicks always seemed to dig. Even the way he looked as if he was always pissed even if he wasn’t.
Although a LOT of the times he was.