Read Online Roman's Redemption: Roman: Book II (Roman's Trilogy) by Kimber S. Dawn - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kimber S. Dawn
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evidence of the disturbing mess I’ve made of my life.
After I shove all my shit in my bag, I rake the ashes of last nights fire out with a make shift rake, covering it with a few handfuls of leaves and kick up the earth to cover any signs of my presence. I toss my bag over my shoulder and glance at the sunset before heading in the general north direction.
When I start seeing more footpaths in the wooded area I’m trudging through, I assume I must be getting close to the vicinity of a city or a town. After about five miles I’m skirting the city limits of Albany, Oregon. What was the city’s name again? I don’t know, because I don’t give a fuck, all I heard was Oregon! Bitches, what’s up?! Who found her ass in the city she intended? Yep, that would be your girl, Mace!
Well if this don’t put a pep in my goddamn step, nothing will, or at least that’s what I’m trying to explain to Mac, while nudging her out of the protectiveness of the woods and into civilization. Once the rubber sole of my Wal-Mart flip-flop slaps the asphalt it on its own accord, diverting my feet’s direction towards a strip mall. And do you know why? Because, momma needs a new pair of boots. And jeans. And a warmer, possibly long sleeve shirt. Panties, Bra, you name it, I’m probably going to jack it in 3. 2. 1. Oh yeah, write fucking jacket on that list too.
I know, you want to do this about as much as Mac does, but sometimes a bitch gets pushed to a certain point, and while Mac watched through drunken lenses from our mind and you only read the details, I would be the bitch lying there taking one for the team, okay? Now, pony up.
My hands connect with cool glass doors before my shoulders tense, shoving the double doors of DSW open. While making a quick detour through the accessories and handbags, I snatch up the most inconspicuous, drab hobo satchel I can spot. After scanning every aisle from newborn and toddler, size one to eleven and a half from the end of the aisle, I then take the next two and a half minutes memorizing the number of other customers and their locations as well as the two employees and at best, if at all, one manager in the back.
Once the aisle containing size seven and seven and a half empties I use the number one play in the playbook, also known as, ‘make my first sweep while keeping an eye out the entire time for both possible trades and first round draft picks’. Now, any woman worth her fucking salt knows every female human has the ability to WEAR any shoe size in a four size limit, *clears throat* I said wear, not fit and feel comfortable. Okay, so with that being said, as I make my way down the next aisle, eyeing the eight and eight and a half sized shoes, I’m using my attentive abilities to portray a woman in dire need of a certain shoe while I’m actually tallying the score points between the potential and first round draft picks I catalogued in my first rough run through of the previous aisle containing size seven and seven and a half. And YES, we are still fucking talking about shoes.
After making my final sweep, I locate the position of other customers in our proximity, and also at or near the stores exits. Snatching a twelve pack of socks and tossing them in my drab, khaki hobo bag on top of the two pairs of boots, a pair of New Balance running shoes, and one…oh-fucking-kay… three pairs of heels. Yes. I’m that good. The heels were on the sale rack at thirty percent off. Yes, I know I paid zero percent, but if you want to get technical I sort of paid 30% because it was already taken care of before I stole them.
And yes, I’m being serious as a heart attack. After DSW I stash my newly acquired treasures in the Louis Vuitton bag I shoved in a box I found next to a dumpster, then make my way to Macy’s.
Two pairs of blue jeans, one sweater, three cuddle duds, four long sleeve shirts, one bra, five pair of panties, and one North Face jacket later I’m walking out from behind my
After I shove all my shit in my bag, I rake the ashes of last nights fire out with a make shift rake, covering it with a few handfuls of leaves and kick up the earth to cover any signs of my presence. I toss my bag over my shoulder and glance at the sunset before heading in the general north direction.
When I start seeing more footpaths in the wooded area I’m trudging through, I assume I must be getting close to the vicinity of a city or a town. After about five miles I’m skirting the city limits of Albany, Oregon. What was the city’s name again? I don’t know, because I don’t give a fuck, all I heard was Oregon! Bitches, what’s up?! Who found her ass in the city she intended? Yep, that would be your girl, Mace!
Well if this don’t put a pep in my goddamn step, nothing will, or at least that’s what I’m trying to explain to Mac, while nudging her out of the protectiveness of the woods and into civilization. Once the rubber sole of my Wal-Mart flip-flop slaps the asphalt it on its own accord, diverting my feet’s direction towards a strip mall. And do you know why? Because, momma needs a new pair of boots. And jeans. And a warmer, possibly long sleeve shirt. Panties, Bra, you name it, I’m probably going to jack it in 3. 2. 1. Oh yeah, write fucking jacket on that list too.
I know, you want to do this about as much as Mac does, but sometimes a bitch gets pushed to a certain point, and while Mac watched through drunken lenses from our mind and you only read the details, I would be the bitch lying there taking one for the team, okay? Now, pony up.
My hands connect with cool glass doors before my shoulders tense, shoving the double doors of DSW open. While making a quick detour through the accessories and handbags, I snatch up the most inconspicuous, drab hobo satchel I can spot. After scanning every aisle from newborn and toddler, size one to eleven and a half from the end of the aisle, I then take the next two and a half minutes memorizing the number of other customers and their locations as well as the two employees and at best, if at all, one manager in the back.
Once the aisle containing size seven and seven and a half empties I use the number one play in the playbook, also known as, ‘make my first sweep while keeping an eye out the entire time for both possible trades and first round draft picks’. Now, any woman worth her fucking salt knows every female human has the ability to WEAR any shoe size in a four size limit, *clears throat* I said wear, not fit and feel comfortable. Okay, so with that being said, as I make my way down the next aisle, eyeing the eight and eight and a half sized shoes, I’m using my attentive abilities to portray a woman in dire need of a certain shoe while I’m actually tallying the score points between the potential and first round draft picks I catalogued in my first rough run through of the previous aisle containing size seven and seven and a half. And YES, we are still fucking talking about shoes.
After making my final sweep, I locate the position of other customers in our proximity, and also at or near the stores exits. Snatching a twelve pack of socks and tossing them in my drab, khaki hobo bag on top of the two pairs of boots, a pair of New Balance running shoes, and one…oh-fucking-kay… three pairs of heels. Yes. I’m that good. The heels were on the sale rack at thirty percent off. Yes, I know I paid zero percent, but if you want to get technical I sort of paid 30% because it was already taken care of before I stole them.
And yes, I’m being serious as a heart attack. After DSW I stash my newly acquired treasures in the Louis Vuitton bag I shoved in a box I found next to a dumpster, then make my way to Macy’s.
Two pairs of blue jeans, one sweater, three cuddle duds, four long sleeve shirts, one bra, five pair of panties, and one North Face jacket later I’m walking out from behind my
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