Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
SPRUCE CINEMA 5: The old five-screen movie theater down the street from Biggie’s Bites that not only plays recently-released films but also hosts art-house cinema events and classic film nights, too. It’s run by Mr. Lemon, the general manager, who is less often seen at the theater and more often sneaking by T&S’s Sweet Shoppe for “just one more tasty somethin’ r’ other” then skittering back to the theater before the last film showing drops.
SPRUCE CLINIC: Not somewhere anyone particularly enjoys having to visit, unless you’re one of the gossipy nurses Marybeth and Carla—or Trey, who’ll never admit out loud that he’s as much into the gossip as they are. Dr. Emory is their boss.
STRONG FITNESS ZONE: A gym complex with tons of space and a variety of activities, including rock wall climbing, gymnastics and dance studios. Opened (with help from his family) and run by Jimmy Strong and his husband Bobby Parker. Cole Harding is happily employed here, as well as Hoyt Nowak who works part-time while going to school, though he’s gotta avoid the cute front desk gal who keeps hittin’ on him. Doesn’t she know he’s taken? Like, by a dude?
SPUR INN: The one and only place in town for outsiders to park themselves during their trip here. Recently renovated and spruced up—pun intended—at least the rooms are cozy and well-furnished. Oh, and they finally got rid of that weird odor in the lobby.
CRAFTY CARSON & HADLEY’S HARDWARE: These two places share a parking lot and see quite a lot of traffic, as Spruce is always full of hobbyists needing craft supplies as well as tinkerers and construction workers in the middle of a job. Noah’s dad, who has an adorable obsession with miniature trains, has a part-time job at Crafty Carson, despite their employee discount not being all that generous.
SPRUCE PARK: Off Main Street just one block down from the church sits this peaceful little park in the heart of Spruce. Decorated seasonally and hosting events, this is the go-to spot for anyone needing a break from the world, from their stresses, from needin’ to think much at all. Just find a spot under a tree, or over here on the soft park benches, or by the little pond, lay down a picnic blanket, enjoy the breeze on your face, and let your troubles melt away.
* * *
There are a number of other establishments and places in Spruce, including countless other characters, but this about covers the basics of who and what everyone in town talks about the most. But who knows? Spruce is a growing town, and there’s always space for more places to visit, friendly faces to meet, and memorable times to be had. By the way, have you tried some of Jacky-Ann’s lemonade? Really, you should go to one of Nadine Strong’s big parties at her ranch and sneak yourself a glass. It’s to die for, and the parties are never uneventful. Anyway, sit back, relax, and enjoy your time in Spruce, Texas! After all, that’s kinda the point, right?
HOT MESS EXPRESS
1
BRIDGER
I guess the worst day of my life starts with being woken up from an amazing dream by Pete’s snoring at 3:03 AM. After talking myself out of smothering him with a pillow—which takes a hell of a lot more effort than you might give me credit for—I stuff my ear buds in and look up a track of soothing ocean waves to drown out Pete’s dragon nostrils, only for that to get interrupted ten minutes in by an overly enthusiastic ad for Viagra.
I don’t know by what miracle I finally get to sleep, only that it ends with the audacity of Pete jostling me awake and announcing: “Bridge, get your ass up, we’ll miss the free breakfast!”
Then, while I’m choking down rubber pancakes and fake eggs, the pretty hotel attendant with—as Pete describes it—“pert melon titties” won’t stop dropping by our table asking me if I need more syrup or topping off on my orange juice. Pete sneers each time she walks away, mumbling, “Chicks always go straight for you, never to me. Am I that ugly? Something on my face? They’re barking up the wrong tree, anyway.”
It’s true. I’m gay. But something about my intensity seems to draw in the ladies and repel all the guys. My last boyfriend left me for a sweet barista named Boo. No idea if that’s his real name or a pet one, but the last thing my ex said was that I was “too much”.
He never clarified what I was “too much” of.
Barely ten minutes after leaving the hotel, Pete wants to take over driving, saying that I “drive too slow because years ago you almost made road kill out of a rabbit and still haven’t gotten over it.” He’s not wrong about the road kill thing, but in my defense, I drive at the speed limit—how fast you’re supposed to go. “Rules exist for a reason,” I state, now sitting in the passenger seat as Pete careens down the highway like the trunk is on fire. “Without them, we’re no different than animals.”