Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 40969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
“Okay, my wine is poured. Let’s chat.” I can hear her sit back on what I’m sure is her couch. The oversized upholstery is a dream to sleep on, and we’ve both done our fair share of that through the years.
“Yeah, you do that. I’m going for something stronger.” I keep the phone on speaker, placing it on the counter face side up. Go to the freezer, where I keep a bottle of Patrón, my all-time favorite tequila that I’ll drink at home but not at bars or restaurants. Simply put, they overcharge. I chose Jose Cuervo. I’m not an avid drinker by any means; this bottle alone lasts me a good portion of the year. If it’s not a day from hell and I just want to unwind, I’ll gravitate towards wine or a hard seltzer drink. That’s not the case tonight. I grab a glass, pouring some of the clear liquid that I love so much.
“Jesus, this is bad, isn’t it?” Tyra asks while I’m tossing back the liquid in one swallow, feeling the burn in the back of my throat. I breathe through the fire, albeit needing it.
“Oh, it’s bad. Okay, that should help some.” Still not diving into the latest and greatest.
“Woman, if you do not tell me what is going on, I’m going to wake Von up, which you know is a nightmare in itself, and drive my ass over to your place. Now, talk to me.” True to her word, Tyra would absolutely do that. It would be the dumbest thing ever because Von is not the kid who would go back to sleep to save his life once he’s up.
“Wylder Hayes, I think that says enough, right? Nope, not after he kissed me stupid last night in the elevator, making me forget everything I’ve ever known, then giving me his business card with his personal phone number on it. Asking me to use it in case I leave the casino late at night, something about not wanting anything to happen to someone who is his,” I grumble, then take a deep breath while contemplating taking another large gulp of alcohol.
“Okay, so where’s the problem with that, except for all those damn forms we had to sign saying we’ll not enter into a relationship between employees, blah, blah, blah.” If only that were the issue.
“Oh, it gets better, or worse. Imagine my surprise. It’s going on noon, the spa is busy, not as busy as last night, but there’s a steady stream along with appointments. We hit a lull, and wouldn’t you know, there are Layla and Melanie standing around, gawking, but I’m like, okay, whatever, talk to them later, Celeste.” I think back on that moment. How I managed to keep it together I still don’t know. “When in walks Wylder. It wouldn’t have been so bad, you know, the man that drove me fucking mad, had me aching like I haven’t ached since before you know who.” God, we are never talking about that again. My ex-boyfriend was a piece of work, a perpetual mommy’s boy. If we had the slightest tiff, he’d go running to her, which in turn made her hate me. It put a strain on our relationship, making it to where I was walking on eggshells. I didn’t see it ending on good terms the longer time went on, so I did the adult thing, using the excuse of ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ It was for the best, even if he did call me a bitch multiple times.
“Oh God, yeah, that was a time in our lives we’re not going through or down ever again. So, what was so wrong? Did he make a play for you in front of the girls?” Tyra’s hopeful. The girl has gone through a divorce, and her world turned upside down. Not because her now ex-husband cheated on her. They simply fell out of love. He worked too much, wasn’t home enough, and she was basically a single mom. And believe me, Tyra would rather live in a tiny shack than have all the money in the world that Mace was hell bent on making. That doesn’t mean she’s out of love with him, you can’t convince me otherwise. My best friend has a heart of gold, and if Mace would man up, figure out his shit, show her and Von that they’re worth more than a job, she’d take him back.
“No! I would have been happier if he had. Nope, instead, he walked in with a woman on his arm. This one wasn’t Vanessa either. I thought we sleuthed?” I go for the bottle again, needing one more, this time grabbing a Diet Coke out of the fridge to mix it with the alcohol instead of throwing shots down my throat. Men, you can’t live with them, and it seems you can’t live without them.