Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
I nod and set my vacuum by the front door.
“Just some light cleanup, maybe…oh! And you could help me put away the laundry they send away for us.”
I glance over at her from beneath my lashes, seeing the worry lines between her brows.
I think she feels embarrassed by how little there is for me to do, but there is, in fact, nothing really. Still, I don’t want to make her feel bad.
“Yeah, these floors could use a good vacuuming too,” I add. “There’s dust everywhere.”
Her brows shoot up. “Really?”
“Oh yeah. Look at that,” I say, dragging my foot across the floor and gathering up absolutely no dust, but we both pretend we see something.
So begins an hour-long cleaning session where I wipe already clean surfaces and rearrange already neatly arranged items. Leanna follows me around, helping and talking. We put away her laundry and I give the bathroom a once-over. I’m supposed to be here all afternoon, and dread fills my stomach when I realize this job won’t pay nearly as much as I thought it would. I’m paid by the hour, so a job this small is hardly worth doing, especially considering the gas I burned to get all the way out here.
“I think that should do it,” I say, starting to loop up the vacuum cord.
“Wait. Really?” She looks panic-stricken. “But what about—”
She points vaguely at the windows I’ve already wiped with Windex, then at the kitchen where I’ve already loaded the dishes and cleaned the sink and buffed the fixtures. There’s nothing keeping me here except Leanna’s puppy dog eyes.
“Do you have another job to get to?” she asks as I start gathering my supplies near the door.
“No. This was my only house on the books this afternoon. Usually they take a little longer.”
“Oh right. Yeah. That’s okay though because maybe I could keep you on the clock and we could just…hang out?”
Her eyebrows are up near her hairline and her smile is brimming over with hope.
On paper, this woman has everything. I mean, she’s obnoxiously gorgeous: black skin a few shades lighter than her eyes, full lips, slice-through-your-heart cheekbones, and a high slicked-back ponytail. She’s dating or married to a professional athlete, living in a cute cabin in the woods for the foreseeable future. I bet she could be friends with anyone, and she wants to be friends with me? Why?
“I know how this looks,” she says, holding up her hands. “Crazy lady invites you to a cabin in the woods, steals your food, then pays you to hang out.” She cringes. “Yes, I’ll admit that all seems pretty weird. It’s just that I’m stuck out here in the middle of nowhere while my husband trains like a bazillion hours a day and I’m bored out of my mind. You’d think the other wives would be friendly, but”—she leans in close—“they’re actually super bitchy and cliquey. I’ve only been with Trey for two years, so they expect him to drop me at any moment and move on to some new hot thing. But Trey’s not like that. Not at all. We’re in love.” She rubs her belly. “I mean, clearly.”
I frown. “There are other basketball wives out here too?”
She nods. “Some. A few of them opted to stay back in Los Angeles, especially the ones who have kids.”
“Makes sense.”
“And just so you know, I’ve tried being nice to them. One of them—she’s like the queen bee—her name is Amanda. She is just so up her own ass, you know what I mean? Like she thinks she’s really God’s gift to the earth. She’s the one who badmouths me to the others. I’ll tell you more about her, but I’m already hungry again. You want something to snack on? I have candy hidden from Trey. I swear he’d eat it all if I let him.”
My afternoon has taken the most random turn. I should make my apologies and leave. This isn’t appropriate, and I don’t want it getting back to the cleaning company. I’ve never had a job where the person asked me to stay and hang out with them while offering to pay me for it. It makes me feel…a little too much like an escort, if I’m honest. A friend escort. But truthfully, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a friend, and Christine and Cook don’t count. Not really.
I watch Leanna as she opens the just-for-show wood-burning stove and retrieves an armful of candy bags. She grins wickedly and plops them down on the couch between us.
“Okay, pick your poison.”
Chapter Seven
Raelynn
Leanna and I lose track of time talking and painting our toenails and going through lists of potential baby names online. I don’t even realize how late it is until there are muffled voices outside.
“Oh!” Leanna says, jumping to her feet and gathering the half-empty candy bags. “That’ll be Trey! Hurry! Help me!”