Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
By the time I got home, my brother Rory was cooking dinner. “Chili again?” I asked. “It’s summer.”
“Fall soon enough, brother. And it’s the only thing I’m good at making.”
“Google’s free,” I said wryly, grabbing a beer. “How’s the day off?”
“Climbing the walls, how was yours?”
“Boring. The usual.”
“Why don’t you tell Dad you want to quit? Would you rather sneak around alphabetizing shit just to keep busy?”
“My Wordle score is unbeatable,” I wisecracked.
“Don’t tell Jeremy. He still thinks he’s the smart one.”
I cleared my throat, lifted an eyebrow, “He is the smart one. Neither of us made it through law school.”
Rory laughed. “Hey, speaking of smart, guess who I ran into last night?”
“Who?”
“Julie. She was the nurse who checked me out.”
“You mean Kendall’s friend?” I squinted, barely remembering some chubby redheaded kid that hung around with my sister a lot. I moved out at eighteen to join the service and Kendall was only in fifth grade at the time. It had been a while.
“Yeah, she grew up real nice. Last time I saw her she was in school—I guess nursing school. She’s still a spitfire,” he chuckled, “and even in scrubs I could tell her curves are in all the right places. I didn’t expect Strawberry Shortcake to turn out so hot.”
“I’ll take your word for it. I don’t really remember her.”
“We have the same taste in women, so you can trust my judgment here. Sexy little redhead, feisty, smart…”
Rory feigned offense at my comment and waved me off. “I’m telling you man. She is a walking wet dream.”
“Go cook the chili before you start jacking off over her right here in the kitchen,” I snorted and took my beer in the other room. “Maybe you’ll see her in the Hamptons and get a chance to harass her then.”
3
JULIE
I toed off my sneakers and wiggled my toes happily, dropping my keys in the dish by the door. I loved my studio. It was little but it was all mine, from the thick rug to the cute love seat and my collection of tiny succulents on the windowsill in the kitchenette. I grabbed my yoga stuff and started to change when my phone rang. It was Kendall, so I put her on speaker.
“Hey, babe, how was work?” she asked.
“Just a sec,” I said, wrestling out of my scrubs and into my tank top with the shelf bra. “Just scooping my boobs into a tank top. Okay, now I’m good. Ready to do some yoga. I’ve been on my feet the whole day. What are you up to?”
“Getting ready to go to work. I’m doing the red dress and quilted patent booties. Hair up or down?”
“You know you sound like a hooker,” I laughed.
“I am not a hooker. Hookers don’t make nearly as much money as I do going to clubs to promote this shit.”
“What shit is it tonight?”
“Elderflower vodka. You know that guy from the Baywatch reboot?”
“Nope. Didn’t watch it.”
“B-list actor, good abs, no personality. Anyway, he’s one of the investors with this vodka brand, and I’m walking the carpet with him at the club tonight. It’s the soft launch for the brand. I’ve been blowing up Twitter, and I have a small army of influencers showing off ‘viral’ cocktails on TikTok with it. I went with edgy and boho.”
“How can it be both?” I asked, puzzled.
“Because, the edgiest influencers are won over by its amazing boho, all-natural buzz. It’s like being in a field of Bavarian wildflowers. With like, a sexy minotaur.”
“What?”
“Hey, it doesn’t translate well, but it worked in the video. It’s got over 175K likes.”
“Maybe because they were so horrified they accidentally hit the like button,” I said.
“Hey, this shitty, grass-clippings-tasting vodka is going to take the trendsetters by storm. Socialites and celebs will be drinking it and hash tagging the posts in no time thanks to me.”
“Is that something to be proud of? Successfully pushing disgusting booze for a bad actor?”
“Pays for my place in Cabo, babe. And I sleep just fine. Not to mention you don’t mind the designer samples I toss your way.”
“Sold your soul and you’re happy with the deal you made?” I laughed.
“Absolutely. I am fire in these booties.”
When she said fire, I had an uncomfortable pang. I couldn’t tell her I’d seen her brother in ER because of HIPAA regulations. He was okay, and he’d tell her if he wanted her to know, I told myself. I wished I could overshare about my job the way she did about hers sometimes.
“Fire enough you’ll pull a guitarist into the ladies’ room again?” I asked.
“That was fucking amazing,” she insisted, “he had some talented hands. He could do more with two fingers than my ex did with his eight inches of legendary NBA dick.”
“And that should be the tag line for their next single. ‘Mediocre club remix, but the guitarist can do things with two fingers that eight inches of NBA dick failed to do’. You can leave club promo behind and sell records.”