Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
“When does it start?”
“I’d want you on a plane by Monday night. You’d document the groundbreaking. construction, hiring, things like that. The entire thing, from start to finish. Candid interviews and what not with the creators. Chefs.”
“Sounds exciting. Riveting. It’s crazy how no one has tried to beat me to the punch.”
“Your sarcasm is cute, but not necessary.”
“…And neither is this assignment.”
“Well, if you don’t want to do the story, you could always wait it out and see how Teresa feels about your face plastered on the front page of another paper, with a picket sign and the lawsuits still rollin’ in, even after three months. Go ahead and gamble on it… but I think we both know how that’ll go.”
“You’re wanting to send out a professional, highly trained photojournalist to Denver, Colorado for a fast-food chain restaurant launch? Why don’t they just hire someone that does high school yearbook photos?! This is absolutely ridiculous.”
“It’s beneath you, yes, but you are beneath the shit you pulled, too. So, take it or leave it. Think about it tonight. Sleep on it. Then let me know what you plan to do by 8:00 A.M. sharp.”
He disconnected the call, and she was left with her own labored breathing.
I almost wish he would have asked me for a blowjob instead. Damn!
CHAPTER TWO
Location is important. I think some believe someone like me would living in the worst parts of the city. But no, that would never work for me. For one, it’s too obvious. Too predictable. The police once got a false tip that I was workin’ Colfax. That’s laughable. I don’t take care of business on Colfax. Nothin’ but the homeless, downtrodden, and drug addicts hang around there. I came from that. Grew up with it all around me… have no desire to see it again. Some have accused me of participating in activities I have never engaged in or had the desire to participate in.
They see me with a lot of women and get the wrong impression. I appreciate a woman’s beauty. I like variety and I like to fuck. Nothin’ more. Nothin’ less. I don’t force women to sell their ass and pussy with promises of love and happily-ever-afters. I don’t deal in that sort of thing, period. It ain’t the kind of thing I like because it requires a constant feeding of bullshit. The art of manipulation. That profession is not for real men. That shit is for the weak. Lies are told by the fragile ones of the herd, in order to control those that are even more fragile than themselves, just to survive. What do I look like getting paid off the backs of broads? Besides, you have to lie to keep that scam up anyway. If you told bitches the truth, they’d never stick by your side in that line of work. I refuse to look another man or woman in the face and tell them something pretty when the ugly truth will suffice. Love is a lie within itself.
I don’t believe in the traditional definition and understanding of what love is, and I barely believe in like. I have my own set of guidelines and principles. Most people think they know what love and hatred is, but they don’t. I do, and I recognize both. I am not considered a nice man, a good man, or even a fair man, but I do have standards. I don’t push dope, heroin, meth, or fentanyl. I don’t do drugs, either. I never have. Not my style. Vodka, Bourbon, and cigars are my thing, and I’m careful about the alcohol while on the call of duty. Gotta keep my mind clear 24/7. Everything I provide to my customers is legal. The legitimacies fade away in specific territories around the country, which tears away at the American dream.
We’re being over-taxed, over-policed, over-moderated. I don’t want your religion, ideologies, or wishes to dictate what the hell I do on a given basis. I’m an American. Don’t tell me how to live my fucking life. Don’t tell me what to believe in and try to force me to be someone I’m not just so you can feel more comfortable. Don’t tell me that a man can sleep right here, but not two feet away because of some trumped up rule. Just because some motherfucker in a suit who happens to be in politics says so. Everything on God’s green earth should be provided to us, if we want it, regardless of province, city, town, and lines drawn in the sand. Little boys knock wooden sticks off each other’s shoulders and make up silly procedures before a fight. Grown men scale the tree and look over the horizon, then gun everything down that compromises their freedom on first sight. I don’t hesitate, and being first is a matter of survival. Being second just means you’re the first loser…