Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
“Go shorty, it’s your item.
We gonna party like it’s your item,
And you know we don’t give a fuck it’s actually Kate’s item…”
Grayson was twerking on his stool by the bar, sipping his Bacardi and generally acting like a cheerleader in a horror flick mere seconds before she gets chopped into lamb kabobs. Ava knocked back her third martini, fluffing her thick black curls and staring at me from behind the rim of her empty glass. They were both celebrating my first real journalistic accomplishment. Even when I’d pointed out that someone had died and maybe we should hold off the celebrations, they weren’t convinced.
“That pop star tried to rape a chick,” Gray pointed out. “We are allowed to celebrate.”
“Sure you don’t want anything to eat?” Ava quirked a brow. “You look a little pale.”
We were at Le Coq Tail across the street from the office. I was dying for that roast beef sandwich. In reality, I was drinking a glass of tap water and faking a headache, because I couldn’t afford anything more, and maybe it was my poor girl’s pride, but I couldn’t stomach anything Ava and Gray were going to pay for, even though I knew they’d be delighted to treat me after I’d successfully fulfilled my first assignment.
Seeing as I’d kept mum about my situation with my dad and my debt, they both bought into my migraines excuse. Watching them get drunk and talk about their weekend plans—all of them involving spending money—sent jealousy nibbling at the corners of my gut.
“I want Grayson to stop singing 50 Cent. Can you make that happen?” I took a small drink of my water.
“Unfortunately, no.” Ava shook her head. “But I can tell you he’s one drink away from passing out, so the singing will be over soon. Are you coming with us to The Met tomorrow? We’re going to check out the Indonesian restaurant they wrote about in Timeout afterwards.”
I wish I could, but I’m probably going to help my father crawl into the shower, then argue with service providers on the phone to try to get them to give me more time to pay.
“Got plans with my dad. Maybe next time.”
Jesus had probably kept good on his word to keep God updated about all of my sins, because, of all the songs in the world, “Promiscuous” by Nelly Furtado and Timbaland blasted through the room. The place was bustling, and the scent of stale tap beer, deep-fried everything, and urban stench clung to our clothes.
Grayson was hiccupping and talking at the same time, and I tuned him out to people-watch, until he said, “Oops, Jude, yorbassazarr.”
“What?” I shouted over the music.
“Your. Boss. Is. Here!” He yelled into my ear. “And he is looking fifty shades of great.”
Grayson, I’d discovered, had the tendency to be cheesier than a Taco Bell enchilada when he was drunk.
“Where?” Ava looked around.
“Three stools down.”
I craned my neck, my face heating before I’d even spotted his broad back, still clad in the ink black textured wool YSL jacket he’d had on in the office. There was nothing saint-like about what this Laurent was doing, though. Even with his back to me, I could see the woman he was talking to clearly. She ran a pale-pink clawed finger down her neck, giggling like a schoolgirl, and purred at something he had said. Célian must have been in top form, because whatever came out of his mouth next caused her to have to right herself by clinging to his shoulders, she laughed so hard. They shared a quick, intimate hug, and I was a witch, burning at the stake from the inside, wanting to break free from whatever spell he’d put over me that made me feel so completely and unbelievably miserable.
Beautiful. She was beautiful, with hair a shade darker than his, sapphire-blue eyes, and a sunkissed tan. Célian obviously had a type, and it wasn’t a dirty blond, hazel-eyed woman who dressed like a headmistress in a British movie from the fifties, except with Chucks. Purple today, by the way. Dignity and pride. But I had a feeling I was about to lose both.
“Earth to Jude?” Grayson slurred, elbowing me in the chest.
Ouch. I shot him a dirty look. “Yeah?”
“Is it just me, or does it look like he’s flirting with another woman?”
“I don’t care.” I jutted my chin out.
“Yeah, we didn’t think you would. But his fiancée might.” Ava blinked, staring at me like I was a weirdo.
Which I was. Of course they’d meant Lily and not me. Suddenly, I felt very tired and very hungry—like the air was dense with misery, soaked with toxins. Every breath was lethal. I grabbed Gray’s Bacardi and tossed it back in one gulp, then slammed it against the bar. “My headache is getting out of control. I’m going to the restroom to wash my face and pop some Advils. Be right back.”