It Is Wednesday My Dudes Novels & Stories

It all drove me fucking wild for her. I pulled up outside the clubhouse not long later. The place looked pretty empty, which wasn’t surprising. Inside, I smelled coffee. Mason, Spoil, Thade, and Wrench were sitting at the bar. “Morning,” Mason said. “You have fun last night?” “Still last night for me,” Thade muttered. “Buck up, pussy,” Wrench said, punching his arm. “We got a fuckin’ job to do.” “Which is what?” I asked him as I sat down and poured myself some coffee.

“I passed him and made a gesture with my head.” Extend our stay to two weeks,” I told him in the car as he drove. ___________ Now it's morning. “I have no plans except one, text sean. “I have his schedule saved. It's the weekend. He's not doing anything. Oddly enough, his weekdays are busier than his weekends. Most people club on weekends, he clubs on Wednesdays. Interesting. Me: Morning I don't care if he's asleep. Or his fucking someone else. It doesn't matter.

KR: [mafia-life update for you unemployed gremlins] KR: [we’re actually leaving for LA Wednesday night] KR: [so if I don’t reply Thursday morning, I’m being forced into family clothes and pretending to be polite] Two typing bubbles appeared instantly. Of course. ISABELLA: [WEDNESDAY NIGHT??] ISABELLA: [finally] ISABELLA: [and please don’t wear beige. beige is a sin] I clicked my tongue. TESSA: [i like beige 😔] TESSA: [but noted] TESSA: [i’ll check on you thursday morning] Emmett came in last, as always, calmest even though he’s the biggest instigator.

What do you do on a Saturday? I had been lying on the bed in my pajamas for twenty minutes straight, in my messy room. The zeal to do a clean-up wasn’t there. I scrolled through my I*******m page, checking my notifications, and I saw that Slade Rowan had requested to follow me. I clicked his name and went through his profile. After going through it, I rejected his request. Today was only Saturday, which means I had only one day to elope to Mars if I don’t want to face him on Monday.

Drew asks me. "It's Wednesday," I simply state and Drew nods in understanding. Little curious Cassandra lifts her dark brows. "What's Wednesday mean?" Before I have the chance to tell her that it's none of her business, Drew replies, "Every other Wednesday night, Crayvin here, has dinner with his parents." Cassandra's expression changes. Her eyes darken but flicker with a tiny spark and the corners of her thin lips curl upwards. "What?" I grunt, annoyed with the full-on smirk she now wears.

"I saw how pretty she looked, so I thought she was a celebrity who just signed a contract with the company…" "Ms. Ford's photos are everywhere on the Internet nowadays. All you have to do is look her up, and you'd see them! Don't you know that Lyric Entertainment belongs to Ford Group?" "I… I wasn't thinking at all…" "Besides, can't you be more polite to others even if they were celebrities who had just formed a contract with this company? I told you a long time ago to stop being so arrogant, and yet you refused to listen to me!" Wesley couldn't help but lash out at Cheyenne to the point that his spittle kept flying everywhere.

Bridget asks. “Hey ,” Marcella looks offended. “Sorry, you are recovering,” Bridget pouts at her. “Come here and three of us can look together,” Marcella offers. “I’ll ask Stevee. But Tuesdays, she is usually with Katie all day,” I tell them. “Spencer isn’t going anywhere,” Marcella laughs. “Baby, we only get tomorrow, we have to leave Wednesday, I have a test Thursday,” Wesley tells her. “I have two this week,” I tell him.

Thursdays dragged at Everglades, and this one dragged more than any other Wes had endured. While he was used to there being fewer customers on these days, he usually didn't mind as much because it gave him plenty of time to play grab ass with Noel. Any other Thursday, Wes would have been praying for an empty bar, but today, he desperately prayed for Everglades to be full of patrons. The quietness would only make things more awkward with Noel. He had agreed to talk to Jake, but he had no idea what he would say to the man. The entire situation seemed stranger than fiction and Wes didn't do fiction.

Here's the thing, so me and my cousins, yes plural, has this weekly bonding day where they go to our house every Wednesday and we do random things. Well, it stopped because we went to college and got separated, but I think it officially stopped when we were like 15 because my brother Jay decided to leave the house every Wednesday. My other cousins, West's brothers, had plans too. Like for Northon, he decided to be this manwhore who dates different girls every week and plans the date on Wednesday. And my other cousin and the most sophisticated of the three -Easton- always brings a book where he would bury himself in it.

You don't make a cement pillar out of someone after asking them questions that determine the extent of brain trauma. "Wednesday?" It comes out as a question. "The date?" I need to think about it for a moment. Fourth of July was last Saturday. "July eighth." This time it's not a question. I'm gaining my bearings. My eyes are also adjusting to the shadows and I can make out more of Moon's features.