Sodapop Curtis Novels & Stories

It wasn’t anybody terrifying – though he suspected that some people might disagree with him on that point – since it was Dillon Saunders, his fellow badass, kick-ass bouncer. Dillon nodded in greeting, Curtis returned it. Dillon stalked over to the staffroom, shedding his heavy leather jacket as he went, returned a minute later. He looked around the room, checking things with his practiced eye, then headed over to Curtis. “OK night?” Dillon said in his husky voice, without preamble or small-talk, as per usual. “Trouble?” “None,” Curtis replied. “Tables to watch?” Curtis gestured at one near the pool tables. “The Road Devils are here tonight.”

Before entering the room, she saw Miss Pope running in the hallway with tears. Lendon frowned and glanced at Curtis. “Curtis, what happened to me? I am not interested in other women these days.” He looked tired, and his face was sad. It happened before, and now it occurred again. What was wrong? Curtis looked at Lendon and didn’t know how to answer him. But, honestly, he also noticed Lendon’s sudden changed. Alexis had blatantly mentioned it to him several times; however, he can’t question this tyrant. “Do you lose interest in all women?” Curtis asked carefully, “Or you are just interested in Miss Miller?”

It was indeed admirable beyond measure for a young man, who was not even thirty years old yet, to be able to develop to this scale in that kind of world where there was constant intensive fighting on the battlefield. So, Cadfan took the initiative to lift his wine glass as he spoke from the bottom of his heart, “Porter, I have never admired anyone in my whole life. Curtis Wade from the Wade family was the first person that I’ve ever admired, and you are the second. Here, let me give you a toast!” When Porter heard the words ‘Curtis Wade’, he had a slightly cold expression on his face as he looked at Cadfan and asked seriously, “Grandpa Schulz, was Curtis Wade really as powerful as legend has

But until they had Sapphire out of whatever nightmare she’d gotten herself into, he had to tread carefully. Unlike most of the Donovans, who were tall and blond, Curtis was a short, stocky guy with shoulder-length brown hair and a goatee. He had small, kinda beady brown eyes, and a nose that looked too long for his face. At first glance, he seemed harmless enough, until you got to know what a ruthless little bastard he was. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here,” Curtis said. “I lost one of my best men because of you, and had to fire another.” Razl snorted. “If they were your best, Donovan, then you need to do some new recruiting.”

Luther was skilled at handling social relationships and managing connections smoothly. "Thank you for your kind offer, Mr. Feland," said Curtis. Curtis was a man in his 40s with a small mustache, giving off a slightly unkempt vibe. When Luther came out, Shane was already waiting nearby. "Mr. Feland, are you satisfied with today's arrangements? This is my apology for my reckless actions the other night." "Mr. Thompson, your apology is really sincere. Of course, I'm satisfied."

I realized that Curtis was down to see me at noon. My watch showed the time to be 9 am. My wolf growled in aggression. Indeed, Curtis was not our favorite person. In fact, I hated him. He made the elite, we took all ten of them because we needed the extra hands. I sent Chad to talk to Brent because he was not a threat and his daughter needed to be with him. He was retired, and since then, he’s been badly managing his bar. Nonetheless, he was issued a warning that if he went back to his old profession, I will obliterate him.

“You look like you’ve been dragged to hell, and even hell didn’t want ya and sent you packin’.” “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” I tease, rolling my eyes. “You’re a real southern gentleman, Curtis.” He waves me off with one of his huge, calloused hands. Curtis is average height and portly, but his strength is truly incredible. His stained white shirt is coated in sweat while he yanks and fumbles with the chainsaw, mumbling curses under his breath. I find his company comforting in a way I can’t explain. “Are there… big animals out here?”

There was nothing to be nervous about. "Let's get you another one of those," the Hispanic man said and signaled to the bartender. We began chatting as I sipped on another glass of alcohol. The man sitting on my left was a tall, thin black man named Curtis. He had gone to Columbia and was now an accountant by day. He was clearly very intelligent and witty, and confident in himself. On my right was Greg, who had gone to BYU as a baseball player and become a Mormon missionary before leaving and finding a new life as a high-school gym teacher. He had dirty blonde hair and light blue eyes. He was the shortest of the group, and also probably the most reserved.

So I circulated, greeting and exchanging pleasantries. I was thinking of getting another glass of wine when a thin, querulous voice called, "Zo-ra!" A pudgy little man stood right in front of me, his ginger-coloured hair sticking up in tufts around his head. I groaned. Curtis was the last person I wanted to run into. He had been pestering me to model for his company and I had refused time and time again. I knew what Curtis really wanted was for me to become his new mistress. Modeling for his company would just be a front. I was not willing to taint my reputation for him.

"You need these more than I do." That night, around the bonfire, someone commented on the fragrant cream on Curtis's hands. "Hand cream," he replied proudly. His men, intrigued, learned it was his partner's creation, designed to soften and protect their calloused hands. They were amazed to learn his partner also made the medicines he'd shared with them. Suddenly, a frantic cry pierced the night. "Curtis! Curtis! Someone's bullying my sister!" The same boy from earlier rushed towards him. "Curtis! Where are you going?!" his men shouted, but Curtis was already running, the boy clutched in his arms.