Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
“The old me loved you, James. The new me loves you more because now I love myself, too. I know our relationship has had its share of ups and downs, but I figured we were getting along pretty good. I don’t know what to do sometimes because you won’t talk to me. I don’t want to be your enemy. I want you to understand me. I know that we may never be friends, but I love ya, and I’m tryin’ here.”
“Everyone wants to understand their enemies, Mama, even if that enemy is themselves. Sometimes an enemy ain’t nothing more than a friend playing dress up. Sometimes a friend is just an enemy who talks a good talk, and wears a convincing smile. I gotta go, Mama. I’ll call you back soon.”
“Do you promise?”
“I most certainly do.” He smiled into the phone, and his heart beat a bit faster.
“Okay. I love you, James.”
“Love you, too.” And he meant that. He ended the call and headed out. Time to check on his deliveries…
CHAPTER TEN
Honey scooted around the crowd of people and peeped at Billy off to her right, noting the glimmer of his gun jammed in his waistband. It was rather inconspicuous unless one was looking for it. The man barely blinked the entire time they were together, as if he feared she could somehow outrun time itself and vanish from his view. She tried to ignore his heavy aura to the best of her ability and went through the motions, doing her usual greetings and mingling, asking people to pose just so as the restaurant managers for the new spot smiled at the camera during the important training session. After the first round of photos, she asked everyone to look natural and pretend she wasn’t there. Speaking of not there…
She didn’t look at Billy anymore, despite him brushing against her every now and again, leaving little to no breathing room. Even when he wasn’t directly up on her, she could feel him nearby, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. His energy was horrid and heavy and under different conditions, she wouldn’t hesitate to ruin his life in an instant.
As she entered the crudely constructed double kitchen area of the restaurant, she listened as the architect explained to several investors the final vision for the place. He pulled out sheets, photos, and blueprints, and enthusiastically made it appear as if this eatery would be like Disney World for the tongue.
She began to snap shots of the attractive older man in his blue suit and fancy tie, candid pictures that would be fantastic in black and white and sepia. She got into the zone, her work a welcome reprieve from her actual predicament. The busy work that had been tossed her way as her career dangled on the fishing line now proved a breath of fresh air.
The phony emails, fake phone calls and bogus text messages she’d been forced to send regularly, lying about how she was having a ball and doing fine, were tearing her apart. She hated being untruthful to the people she loved and cared about. Now, even failed friendships and the like seemed more valuable. What she’d do to talk freely to just about anyone.
She shook the glum thoughts away and took notice of stacks of unsightly boxes marked fragile, various company names printed on them. She didn’t like them in the shot, they were tacky, and it would take some time to edit them out. If not, she’d ask for them to be removed. As she looked them over, she noticed one was marked as ‘cutlery.’
She looked around, spotting Billy staring at a slender red-haired woman with black cat-eye glasses who was asking him where she knew him from. She eased closer to the box, seeing that one flap was up. Just enough space for her to peer inside. Enclosed were plastic wrapped metal forks, spoons, and knives.
She moved to another box that contained linens, pretending to be interested in it, too. An hour or so had passed, and she’d taken way more photos than she needed under a cloud of stale cigarette smoke and beer. Billy sidled up closer to her.
“I think you’re finished now,” he whispered in her ear.
“Who are you to tell me that I’m finished? Are you a professional photojournalist, too?”
Their eyes locked. His darkened to something murky and sickening. A deep purple with muddy irises flashed before her as his apparent loathing for her rose to new levels. After shifting his gaze all around as if to make sure they weren’t drawing any attention, he grabbed her healing, bandaged wrist and squeezed so hard, the pain about made her buckle at the knees. She could feel her eyes sheen over, but refused to let one teardrop escape. Instead, she glared at him right back.