Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
“But guess what?” Kat says with a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes. “Thanks to Josh and his brother, and all the winnings they let me keep at the craps table the other night, I’m going to surprise Daxy with all the money he needs for his album, and then some.”
I’m shocked. Kat is a generous person, but she’s got a car payment, same as me. Also, some credit card debt, same as me. I can’t believe she’s lucked into fifteen grand or more and plans to give it all to her little brother.
“You’re giving him all your winnings?” I ask.
“Yep. Do I have things I could pay off with that money? Sure. But those things wouldn’t be life-changing for me the way an album could be for Dax and his bandmates. Dax said a high-quality album could get 22 Goats signed to an established label.”
We talk a bit more about Dax and his band, and when that conversation runs its course, I tell Kat about the email I just received from the expensive makeup line.
“Check your emails,” I say, since I know Kat sometimes buys this brand’s products, too.
“I got it, too!” Kat announces. “Our lucky streak continues, Hannah Banana Montana Milliken!”
As Kat dives into the brief survey, a waiter appears. With his dark eyes trained on Kat, he says, “Piña colada?”
I raise my hand to attract his attention. “Piña colada here.”
The man hands me the drink before passing the rum punch to Kat by default. “Your food will be out soon, ladies,” he informs us. He takes a lingering look at Kat, who’s still busy on her phone, and then covertly glances at my chest, which looks particularly buxom in this bathing suit, I must admit, before striding away with his tray pressed against his hip.
As the waiter disappears, Kat looks up from her phone and snorts. “He took a nice gander at your boobs. Can’t say I blame him. You’re a smoke show in that bikini, girl.”
Kat always says stuff like that to me. She tells me I’m a smoke show. A knockout. Gorgeous. She insists men are staring at me when it’s clear she’s the object of their desire. And yet, I never doubt Kat’s sincerity. In fact, I’m grateful for the positive reinforcement. So often, media and entertainment portray women built like Kat as the main character in the movie of life, while women built like me are relegated to sassy sidekick status. Whenever I’m with Kat, though, I always feel every bit her equal co-star.
Obviously, my blonde bombshell of a bestie can’t help that she won the genetic lottery, but what she can help is how she chooses to react to and internalize all the unearned adulation she receives from the world. It’s my theory Kat consciously decided at some point not to believe the hype. Or at least, to expand her view of beauty beyond what she sees in magazines, all of which reflect visions of herself back to her. Did Kat’s mom teach her that? However she got here, it’s lovely to be Kat’s friend because she gleefully and sincerely shares the spotlight with everyone she loves, which thankfully includes me.
Kat turns over onto her stomach and I’m treated to a view of her bare ass cheeks.
“Good lord, woman,” I say. “That suit gives new meaning to the phrase teeny weeny string bikini. Is there a thong in that ass crack somewhere?”
Kat guffaws. “You like it? Josh picked this suit out for me during a shopping spree here in Vegas. You wouldn’t believe how much it cost, considering how little fabric was used.”
“There’s fabric? Oh yeah, I think I saw some covering your nipples and clit.”
Again, Kat positively guffaws.
“Promise me something,” I say. “If you ever feel the urge to spend your own hard-earned money on a designer suit like that, please don’t. In that case, I’ll jimmy together an exact replica for you out of nothing but dental floss and three well-placed cottonballs.”
Kat cackles at my joke. “If you could also jimmy together a pair of gorgeous tits like yours to pour into said replica suit, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll place the order on Door Dash right now.”
She snickers. “You and your Door Dash.”
“A girl’s best friend.”
Kat motions to my chest area. “Did Henn have a stroke when he finally got to see those beauties, wild and free, last night?”
“He sure did. And then, he almost suffocated in them after diving in. Talk about a deep dive.”
Kat hoots. “Henn kept sneaking peeks at your cleavage throughout dinner. He thought he was so subtle and clever, but it was so obvious.”
“I would have been offended if he hadn’t noticed them. I didn’t wear that neckline and push-up bra for them to be ignored, for fuck’s sake.”
“Why don’t you send Henn a selfie now? Give the boy a little something to stare at every night in his hotel room in DC.”