Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
If I were being honest with myself, I might be letting the sour taste Harlan had left me with taint my thoughts on men who looked like him. But the entire male population out in the Hamptons seemed to be cloned Ken dolls. They looked alike, spoke alike—I’d even noticed most of them smelled the same. Well, except one. Rush smelled like something woodsy and cigarette smoke half the time. My thoughts started to drift off to the weird exchange in the car two nights ago. It was as if Riley read my mind.
Finishing her hair, she turned to face me. “What was going on between you and Rush the other night? One minute he’s going to fire both of us and the next the two of you are laughing hysterically and cursing at each other.”
“Nothing. He’s just fun to screw with.”
Her eyebrows jumped. “Rush? Fun? Maybe you spent too much time out by the pool today and heat stroke is making you delirious.”
I laughed. “He’s got a hard exterior, yes. But I think once you get to know him, there’s a decent guy underneath. I like his dry sarcasm and hard wit.”
Riley grinned. “Not me. I think once you get past that hard exterior, there’s more asshole underneath. Like an onion, every layer you peel back is just more onion. That being said, I bet he fucks like a champ. All that pent-up anger…that hard body. He might be an asshole, but he’s ridiculously hot.”
Well, we could agree on one thing at least… “What time do you have to leave for work? I’d like to take a quick shower if I have time.”
She looked at her phone. “I’m working five to midnight. So you have twenty minutes to get yourself all prettied up for your big solo movie outing.”
After seeing two movies, one in French and the other in Italian, I actually felt invigorated. The first film had been about a woman who pretended to be her sister, after her sister died. The film itself was sort of bleak, but it sparked something creative in me. I actually sat in the theatre for a half-hour after the movie ended and typed a boatload of notes into my phone—all ideas for my book.
On the ride over to The Heights to pick up Riley at the end of her shift, I couldn’t stop the wheels in my head from spinning. My book started to play out in my imagination like a movie. For the first time, I saw the faces of my characters, felt their movements, and heard their dialogue in my head. It was as if a door that had been locked had magically opened, and I could finally see inside.
I was excited to share my good news with Rush since he’d been the one to suggest stepping away from my work for a day. Only, when I approached the bar, that excitement faded when I found Rush sitting at the bar with a woman. She threw her perfectly coifed head back and laughed at something he said. An unexpected lump formed in my throat. I wanted to turn around, walk back to the car, and send Riley a text to let her know I’d be waiting outside. But before I could do that, Riley yelled my name and waved. Rush’s head turned and his eyes landed right on me. I couldn’t back out the door gracefully now. I wasn’t even sure what the hell was going on with me, why I was feeling the way I did.
I forced a practiced smile and went to the bar.
“Just give me five minutes,” Riley yelled from the cash register. “I need to take my drawer into the back to count out and then I can go.”
Rush shook his head and mumbled as Riley walked away, “She announces that she’s going in the back with a drawer full of cash. I’ll be right back. Let me get Oak to keep an eye on the office so she’s safe.” He stood and looked between me and the woman sitting next to him. “Shakespeare, this is Lauren. Lauren, Shakespeare. She works here when she’s not home procrastinating about writing the next great American porn novel.”
Rush disappeared and awkwardness set in, at least for me it did. I smiled at the woman, and upon getting a closer look I thoroughly regretted my choice of comfy clothes and piling my hair on top of my head. Because Lauren was beautiful. Her thick blonde hair had that beachy, wavy look that she probably paid a fortune for in a salon, and she wore a baby blue, strapless summer dress which accentuated her sun-kissed skin that, unlike mine, didn’t have any tan lines.
She seemed to be studying me. “So...you work here?”
“Yep.”
“And you’re a writer?”
“Yep.”
“Rush mentioned he’d hired a new hostess. In fact, he mentioned you a few times in the hour we’ve been sitting here.”