Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“Eleventh House!” someone called. “Yay!”
“Hey, Rae,” Helen began, but before Greta could turn to see their host, someone else yelled too.
“Incoming!”
Greta heard a sound that she couldn’t place. A strange low snuffling that moved close to the ground.
Suddenly, from around the corner, running straight toward them, came the source of the noise.
A pig.
“What the—” Greta got out before Carys and Helen both knelt and stopped the pig in its tracks.
“Hi, Madame Snortface,” Carys said affectionately.
“Well, hello, Snoots McPigfeet,” Helen chimed in.
They both patted the pig on its sides and scritched between its ears.
Greta turned to Veronica questioningly.
“No, ma’am,” Veronica said. “I do not approve of this situation.”
“Is this a pet?”
“Well, you can’t expect people who think they’re special to have a dog or a cat, now can you? This pig is half their personality.”
Greta looked around at, presumably, the other half. The art all over the house seemed under distinct threat from the pig before her.
“Weird,” Greta pronounced. Veronica nodded definitively.
“She’s sweet,” said Helen, giving the pig another pat.
“As someone with a non-cat, non-dog pet,” said Carys, “I beg you not to judge.”
“Oh, shit, sorry,” Greta said, having forgotten Teacup for a moment. “Teacup doesn’t seem like half your personality at all,” she quickly added.
Carys winked at her. “I’m not offended. They got the pig for their daughter, actually. She loves him. His name’s Scribble.”
“Uh, hi, Scribble,” Greta said and reached out a hand.
The pig was solid and bristly, and Greta took her hand back.
Carys and Helen both seemed to glow with affection for it. Greta caught Veronica’s eye over the pig’s back and was gratified to find her wearing an expression of eye-rolling displeasure that matched her own feelings.
Having received his pats, Scribble waddled past them and collapsed inelegantly onto a pile of cushions in a corner of the room.
“Aw,” said Carys.
Greta was filled with a warm glow. “You love all animals, don’t you?”
Carys grinned.
“They’re all so cute, and they’re just totally themselves. Scribble just spends all his time being a pig. He’s not trying to do anything else. It’s aspirational.”
“You don’t even know,” Veronica chimed in. “This girl thinks squirrels are cute.” She shook her head like she’d delivered a terminal diagnosis.
“They’re adorable,” Carys said. “They’re just like…kittens, but with jobs.”
Veronica snorted, Helen smiled knowingly, and Greta couldn’t see anything but the sincere warmth in Carys’ face.
“You’re a smush,” Greta said.
“Total smush,” Helen agreed.
Carys rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she said, mock annoyed, but she leaned into Greta’s shoulder, and Greta slid an arm around her waist.
Veronica headed into the kitchen, and they followed. Unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen didn’t seem to have been renovated. It was a galley, small and cramped. There were decorative jars of olives and peppers on the stovetop.
“You don’t need a functional stove when you only eat takeout sushi,” Veronica explained under her breath.
On the countertop beside the stove, snacks were laid out. Hummus and pita, grapes, cheese and crackers, cookies, alcohol, and cans of LaCroix in several flavors. Veronica slid her pitcher of lemonade in the refrigerator.
“Oh, good, there you are. Thanks for coming.”
The speaker was a tall butch in a pink short-sleeved button-down with green flamingoes on it, cutoff jean shorts, and a green baseball cap worn jauntily to the side that said Vroom in gold embroidery.
After their greetings, Carys put a hand on Greta’s shoulder. “Rae, this is Greta. Greta, this is Rae. They’re our host for the evening.”
“Hey, thanks for inviting me,” Greta said.
Rae had a mischievous smile and twinkly blue eyes.
“My pleasure. So happy to share the bounty with a new arrival.”
“And what a bounty it is,” boomed the same voice that had yelled Incoming. “Hey, I’m Matthew. He/him.”
Matthew was large, tall and broad and fat, with beautiful gray eyes and hair the color of fire caught up in a high ponytail.
Greta introduced herself in kind, held out her hand and found it squeezed warmly.
“Carys, you scamp,” Matthew said. “What a hottie.”
“I agree,” Carys said, squeezing Greta’s shoulder.
Greta flushed, flattered and unsure what to say. She didn’t think of herself as hot. Some days, she liked how she looked just fine. She knew people responded to her big blue eyes and bone structure, and she enjoyed bleaching her hair to a striking platinum, but when she looked in the mirror, usually the first thing she saw was how uncertain her eyes looked and how stubborn the cut of her jaw was.
She ran a hand self-consciously through her hair and ducked her chin so Matthew wouldn’t see her blushing.
“You’re adorable,” Carys said, putting a hand on the back of her neck.
“Okay, okay, enough of this,” Helen said. “I’m going to the pool.”
The house was arranged in a semicircle around the patio and pool area, with a sliding glass door out of the kitchen on one side and the master bedroom on the other. There was a wooden deck around the house, with pockets of planting that shaded benches and a wrought-iron table and chairs. It stepped down to the cement and tile patio that stretched around a kidney-shaped pool.