Free The Keys to Jericho by Ren Alexander

Earl Grey, my lord?”
    My fist goes to my mouth as I splutter a cough. “Fuck! That shit is nasty!”
    “Maybe you got the bottom of the pot?”
    “God! That’s the worst thing I’ve ever tasted! The bottom of a molded coffeepot would be an improvement!” I lift the cup and study the side of it, not sure why, but maybe it holds some sort of clue.
    “Then, you haven’t tasted a shattered heart and broken dreams,” he says with a laugh.
    I spit into the grass before dubiously frowning at him. Hesitantly, I take a whiff into the cup, but can’t smell anything. It still smells like coffee. Turning to Lange, I skeptically ask, “Has she ever brought you coffee before?”
    “Nope.” With a shit-eating grin, he takes a drink of his ostensibly great-tasting coffee.
    “Figures.” I roll my eyes and then hone in on the area around us, but there’s no sign of her, as there shouldn’t be. The coward.
    I irritably throw my coffee into the Dumpster and get back to work, but not before I scrounge for gum from Lange, who unfortunately, only has the spongy shit, which has melted into purple globs from sitting in his hot truck. I have no choice but to take one just to get rid of the disgusting aftertaste of the coffee from Hell. The gum tastes like grape Kool-Aid and I make a face. Lange laughs and I reward him with a bubble snap in his face, and for the rest of the day, he can’t stop laughing at me. Jackass.
    Seeking out Kat is a huge waste of time. She’s either hiding or left altogether.
    I’m having a hard time trying not to figure out what her problem is. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t give a troublemaker like her a second thought.
    Then why am I giving her a third?
    Or fourth?

CHAPTER 4
     
     
     
    “Why don’t we go watch the races tonight?” My dad rounds in front of me, stopping me in my tracks. I think he’s been babbling on about something walking beside me, but I haven’t been paying much attention.
    My dad is referring to the Wednesday Night Sailboat Races in Annapolis Harbor, which start in the middle of April and occur every Wednesday evening over the summer, lasting until the last Wednesday prior to Labor Day. It’s a weekly regatta where over 100 sailboats sail out from the mouth of Spa Creek, out around marks on the Chesapeake Bay, and finishing near the Annapolis Yacht Club. As it is with many people, watching the races each week is a long-standing tradition of small picnics or blowout parties, depending on the people you’re watching the races with. In my case, Adam Beckett. No fun anticipated.
    “Uh…” Perching my hands on my hips, I look around, trying to stall, to come up with some kind of excuse, but I’m struggling for one. I don’t have anywhere else to be. He knows Rio won’t be coming down here on a weekday and that Dash is helping his mommy organize her tassels.
    When all I’m left to look at is his hopeful mug, he crookedly smiles, which reminds me of my sister’s. “Come on. Can’t you spend some quality time with your old man?”
    I testily scowl. “I am. Here. Every day.”
    He shakes his head as his hazel gaze studies my face. “No. We barely say two words to each other while we’re working.”
    “Well, we don’t have to work…”
    “Jared.”
    Crossing my arms, I inhale deeply, losing my patience with him. In contrast, he patiently waits for an answer. We stare each other down until he heaves a sad sigh. This time, I do roll my eyes in his face. “ Fine .”
    He proudly grins. “It’ll be fun. We’ll grab some pizza and hang out at the Yacht Club, like you, Hadley, and I used to.” He pats my back and as he walks around the back of his truck, I pull the trigger on my finger-gun pointed at my head. I’d rather be doused in glue and rolled in glitter than spend quality time with my father, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen any time soon.
    When we get home, we both grab showers. As I’m drying off, I get a text from