Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Jeremy went down the hall on quiet feet. Jean’s door was cracked, but the bedroom light was off. He offered a quiet “Hey” in warning before easing the door open a few inches. Jean was asleep on his bare mattress, still dressed in what he’d worn all day. It was disorienting that a man so tall could look so small at rest, but Jean slept curled in on himself in the middle of his bed. Jeremy lingered a moment, then went down the hall and collected Barkbark.
Laila was coming out of the kitchen on his way by, but she said nothing until Jeremy slipped the dog inside Jean’s room and eased the door closed.
“A roommate in my absence,” Jeremy said as he made his way back to her. “Thank you for dinner and…” He waved a hand in Jean’s general direction. “Do you want me to meet you at the mall or am I hitching a ride with you?”
“We’ll come get you around nine,” Laila said. “Drive safe.”
“Be safe,” he returned.
Laila sent a pensive look in the direction of Jean’s bedroom. “Somehow, I think we are.”
They saw him out, and Jeremy took the long drive back to his home in Pacific Palisades. His parents had use of the garage, so he pulled into the semicircle driveway that wrapped around the fountain in the front yard. A glance at the front of the house showed a comforting number of darkened windows, but Jeremy checked the clock on his dash before killing the engine. If Jean was already asleep, Bryson might be too.
His phone chimed, and Jeremy looked down to see William’s name on the message. “Bryson is in the sitting room with Mr. Wilshire.”
Jeremy couldn’t help but laugh. He glanced out the windshield, looking for the butler’s form in one of the windows and coming back empty. With a quick, “You’re the best!” he pulled his keys from the ignition and got out. He closed his door as quietly as he could, crossed the front yard on quick steps, and wasn’t entirely surprised when William opened the front door for him. He could hear voices echoing down the corridor where his stepfather and older brother were having an animated discussion, so he settled for a grateful smile in William’s direction before hurrying up the stairs.
He got to his room with none the wiser, changed out for bed, and collapsed into his blankets with a content sigh. Sleep was easy after a long day and a good dinner, but when he dreamed it was of bloodied ravens locked in an iron cage.
-
Judging by the number of times Jeremy’s phone went off during his hair appointment the following morning, no amount of warnings could have prepared Laila for today’s shopping trip with Jean. Jeremy was in no position to check his messages, but now and then Cat wandered up to him from the waiting area to let him know how many bubble teas might buy his way back into Laila’s good graces. Each visit added another eight or nine to the final count.
When he was finally done and escorted up front to pay, he pulled his phone out alongside his wallet. His unread messages were standing at fifty-seven. While Jeremy hoped most were from the gossipy group chat, since Laila wasn’t big on texting, the number was more than enough to make him sigh.
“Thank you,” he said, taking his card and receipt and passing back a cash tip.
Cat preceded him out of the salon but waited to one side so he could note the tip on the top corner of the receipt. He tucked the receipt into his wallet before passing his remaining cash to Cat for help with groceries and rent. Cat looked weary as she pocketed it, though she had given up protesting his so-called charity a year ago. It wasn’t about the money, so he didn’t take it personally. Cat was more concerned with how many hoops it took him to pull it together when he was permanently on his stepfather’s bad side.
Since she’d been keeping up with Laila in his stead, she knew where to lead him to meet up with the others. They were at a table on the outskirts of the food court, where Laila was vigorously stirring the last few bites of frozen custard into a sloppy mess. Ice cream was her go-to high stress food, so Jeremy attempted his best apologetic smile as he slid onto the seat across from Jean.
Laila’s spoon stilled as she stared at him. “What happened to frosted tips?”
Cat threw Jeremy under the bus immediately: “He chickened out at the last possible second and made ‘em bleach the whole thing. Something about how going beachboy mode was more acceptable than looking like a one-hit wonder dropout? Pussy,” she said with emphasis when Jeremy grimaced at her. “You look like a Ken doll.”