Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 38978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
After lifting the wallet, I’d waited a couple of hours and, using a voice distorter, had called as a concerned citizen who had somehow found the wallet outside the restaurant where he just happened to be having lunch that day. Learning his whereabouts was easy; I’d just lied and told my publicist she needed to know where he was going to be because I didn’t want to run into the fuck while out and about with my fiancé. I convinced her that if that fuckery should happen, she’d be looking for a new job. It worked because less than an hour later, she’d had the info, and I was ready the next day.
He wanted me to leave the wallet at the front desk of his hotel, but I told him I wasn’t comfortable doing that, and of course, since I sounded like a starry-eyed cheerleader, the horny fuck fell for it.
Now I’m off again in another disguise, this time for my late-night rendezvous with the douche. I’d chosen someplace that a fan who wanted to be alone with him might consider far away from the action but not far enough that the fucker would grow suspicious. No, I wasn’t dressed like a little girl. I waited for him to show up and walk to the place we’d decided on. He didn’t want anyone seeing him any more than I did. After all, he was in enough shit with the press raking him over the coals for trying to break up a sweet young love story. I watched him approach, and the old anger rose up inside me; this was the fucker that had almost destroyed my life; I went with that momentum and attacked. The first blow caught him in the face breaking his fucking nose, blood flew everywhere, and while he was busy grabbing at his face, I kneed him in his balls, twice for good measure. By the time I left him on the ground rolling around in pain, I was at least a little satisfied, it wasn’t the grand comeuppance I’d wanted, but it was a good start.
It was an easy thing to walk out of there and back to the car I had parked a couple of streets over, where I changed out of the bloody shirt for a new one. I tossed that shit in the trash and went home to my woman.
EPILOGUE
It's been a year, a year since our hell on earth; what a difference a year makes. First, on the career front, things couldn't be any fucking better. Oops, I'm trying to curtail my swearing. Suzette threatened me with bodily harm if our kids’ first word is fuckery or anything remotely similar.
Yes, I said kids plural; who the fuck...umm yeah, who knew I had super sperm? Three in one shot, I kid you not. Butterfly was a whale. Don't tell her I said that. So anyway, three healthy cute as fuck boys, they're my fuck you to the naysayers; if that's not politically correct, I don't give a fuck.
Anyway, back to the career front, like I was saying, in the last year, we got more movie offers and endorsement deals than ten people could handle. We had to beg for a break; there's no way we could've done them all, so we chose the ones that were best for us.
We did three movies a piece in the last year. Try doing that shit while pregnant, breastfeeding, or getting up for three am feedings.
This coming year we're taking a break. I'm taking my family to our private island for at least three months. Besides, Suzette has me doing double duty as a stud; she says she got jipped on the baby front since she's seriously outnumbered. Fuck yeah, I'm down with it.
So business is good, family life is phenomenal, my boys are growing like tumbleweeds, some fuckwad magazine wanted to sign our kids to a modeling deal or to do commercials or some fuck, I told them to kiss my ass. My kids could choose that life if they want; I'm not choosing it for them.
Oh, I know what you're waiting for, the whole revenge thing; well, see that fucker James had an ace up his sleeve all along my nana on my father's side.
See, James is a distant relative, and apparently, he didn't like my more volatile suggestions regarding those fucks, so he squealed like a little bitch. I hadn’t told anyone that I was responsible for the supposed mugging of Peter Poole that got so much notice in the press; the cops were hunting for a madman that had attacked one of Hollywood’s up-and-comers in a New York alley, and everyone was convinced it was a random act of violence, but I’d received some piercing looks from a few family members including butterfly. I didn’t admit to anything but let’s just say they knew what they knew. I was still thinking of ways to fuck with him, though, I wasn’t through by a long shot, and no one could get me to change my mind, but James wasn’t buying my innocent act, and he was convinced I was going to land my ass in jail so like I said he sang like a fucking yellow bird. It was a good six months after the beat down, and I was still muttering about getting his ass. Butterfly was pregnant. By then, I mean really pregnant; you could see that shit from the space station. One day I let slip that I still wasn’t happy with the way things ended with the guilty parties getting away with what they’d done. James that fuck had listened to every word without a rebuttal; I didn’t know all along he was planning to put a monkey wrench in my shit.