Bob Belcher Mustache Novels & Stories

He was not what I expected him to be. He was tall, lean but muscular at the same time. Much like the buff men running around the place, he too was far more built than any man I had seen before. He sported a dark brown beard, but his hair was covered by a gray beanie. He appeared startled for a moment, then quickly composed himself. "You must be Isabella." He smiled, coming around the table to stand in front of me. I glimpsed up at him, startled for a moment, not sure what to say at first. "Uh, yeah. I am."

"Very good, sir. And the beard?" "Shave it off. I'd like my own face back." "Um..." I raise a hand. Two pairs of eyes swivel toward me. Klempner inclines his head. "I didn't have you down as a fashion critic, James? Or a style guru." "It's nothing to do with fashion. If you've looked in the mirror recently, you're half-skeletal. If I might suggest, keep the beard. It'll fill out your face a bit while you regain your weight. That way, it won't be so much of a shock to Mitch when she sees you."

It's not someone you know,' Celeste warned me. But even so, I had no other option. I held onto the doorknob, twisting it open, and I saw a man who had long, black hair. The way that he instantly smiled the moment he saw me made me shiver down my spine. His face was also covered with his thick mustache and beard, so it was quite difficult for me to examine his facial features. I wasn't even sure if that was real hair or if it was only artificial. "What do you want from me?" I asked the strange dude in front of me, but I received no answer.

Of course, it was his own side of the story, and I wonder what bozo will support a Funker like him. Standing this close to him made me see his features well. If I didn't know him and saw him outside, I would mistake him for a respectable foreigner, but glad I don't judge by looks. Jet black hair with a brown bear plaited with beads attached to it, and a little mustache, goes perfect for a monster. Trying not to snicker, I jerked my face away from his grip. I yanked the metal on my wrist, the noise filling the room.

I carried the food and walked to the main room "Okay brown suit here I come," I said with a sigh I managed to find the Brown suit guy sitting on table 5, he has a Mohican cut and scythe-shaped eyebrows. His aquiline nose and half-dome cheekbones sat above an oaken jaw. His wrestler’s shoulders were part of his burly physique. He has a devil-may-care outlook with a dark, bristly moustache. And I wondered why he looked so familiar to me, or maybe I was just overthinking.

he said, motioning to the man beside him. "Marshal. He’s the owner of the bar I work at." Bella set the knife down, her gaze flicking from Jacob to the man he introduced as Marshal. The stranger was in his late fifties, wearing a slick suit that looked a bit too fancy for the small, modest apartment they lived in. His graying hair was neatly combed, but his face was lined with a kind of roughness that made Bella instinctively pull back. He had a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and when he looked at her, there was a gleam in his gaze that made her skin crawl.

“If you want to see a beach bum, then I’ll take you to the beach sometime. But my sweet Tyger, I’m not a beach bum.” She giggled and slapped at his hands, but he refused to stop. Being fun with her like this was nice. “Actually,” she said between laughs, “it’s just your long hair and your beard and mustache that makes me think that you’re a beach bum.” “Oh, really?” Monte wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. He dropped his face to her neck and rubbed his well-groomed facial hair on her skin. “This, my sweet Tyger, is called a goatee. A lot of men have them.”

“It’s so nice of you to agree to talk to me.” “Pleasure is mine.” He licked his lips, and I felt like Little Red Riding Hood meeting the wolf. But I’d met a few wolves before, and I knew how to handle them. “Please, have seat,” he said, motioning me to a big leather armchair across from his desk. “So, who is Adam Beller?” I sat back and crossed my legs. “I’m going to be the best-known party planner on the Beach. Within, say, six months or so.”

"This is the place where the kids hangout after school hours. The food here is really good, but dont try their Hula Twister Drink. It tastes horrible!' Miley informs informs Bella, as she wrinkles her nose in obvious disgust. Bella was about to say something when they suddenly saw a middle-aged man coming out from the house. He was wearing flashy sunglasses and there was a cigarette stick stuck unto his mouth.He was also wearing a Hawaiian-print polo shirt and brown walking shorts. She guesses that he might be the owner of this snack bar... "Oh, hello there, Miley!" he smilingly greeted Miley. "Hi, Uncle Bobby!" Miley greeted him back.

So I said nothing. He chuckled and leaned against the wall. “You won’t find him tonight. But I’m here if you want to talk... or plot revenge.” I turned on my heels without another word. Bob was dangerous—but not the same kind of dangerous as Ace. He was clever, charming, and unpredictable. And maybe—just maybe—that made him even more dangerous. And the fact that I didn't want to admit how handsome he was... being good looking might be a thing in the family. *******