Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Since we founded Hunter Meditour, we’ve gone through a lot of ups and downs.
I’m not going to lie; there were days when I deeply regretted starting this business. There were nights when I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as anxiety gripped my heart like a vice. More than once, we suffered so many setbacks we almost lost our collective shirt.
But we kept on working at it, and that’s how we got here.
It feels like we’ve made the best decision ever, especially now that we’re home in Ashbourne.
After the way these people treated my parents, after the way they questioned my parents’ fitness to raise children, there’s nothing I want more than to rub our success in their faces.
All five of us are here to spend time with our parents as a complete family. But I may have an ulterior motive: I also want these people to admit, even if only to themselves, that they were wrong about us.
Look at us. We’re the fucking one percent now. What was it that you said—something about how our parents were going to ruin our lives?
Liam
“Would you please stop grinning like that? You look like an idiot,” I say as we stroll down the main street of Ashbourne, which is lined with small retail shops on both sides.
“That’s what you think. The ladies seem to disagree. They love me,” Mason says, ever the flashy womanizer.
I hate to admit it, but Mason’s right. The handful of women, teetering on their high heels along the main street in Ashbourne, practically creamed their panties at the sight of his Porsche.
“They probably just want a ride in your car.” I stop and let myself fall behind as Ollie and Mason continue walking toward the door of the liquor store.
Admiring the architecture of the old building façade, I hold my Leica M9 with both hands, frame the picture just so, adjust the focus, and take a snap.
Unlike other DSLRs, this camera requires a lot of manual adjusting to produce non-blurry pictures. But when everything comes together just right, every once in a while, I get a beautiful picture that I blow up to hang on the wall of my apartment in San Francisco.
“Check out that hot piece of ass at two o’clock,” Mason says to Ollie in a low voice when I catch up with them.
Nothing important was missed, apparently.
“Yeah, she’s okay,” Ollie says.
“Something wrong? You don’t usually sound so disinterested,” I say with a grin. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to end up like me. You guys are always teasing me about my so-called ‘dry streak.’”
Ollie shrugs without providing any explanation.
“That’s cool. More for me.” Mason’s still staring at the girl.
I take a quick look at her. Shiny blonde hair with long legs—usually, both Mason and Ollie would be all over her.
Luckily, even though they have a similar type, they’ve never fought over a woman. Like true Hunter men, they’ve come up with an out-of-the-box solution: just share the woman.
Okay, it’s not just them. I’ve joined them, too, a few times.
It’s a nice arrangement for the five of us because we’re always working, and we don’t have time for relationships. Red-blooded men like us have needs, and sometimes even I get sick of my own right hand.
I see Mason wandering further and further away from us and I know he’s about to bolt, so I grab his arm and drag him into the liquor store.
“We’re supposed to be back for dinner soon, remember?” I ask.
“It would’ve taken me no time to get her number.” Despite his protest, Mason ambles into the store with me.
“We’re here for two months. It’s only our first day. Pace yourself, for god’s sake.”
Ollie’s already ahead of us, checking out the Australian wines on one of the shelves.
“Fine.” Mason sighs.
“Should I be worried about Ollie?”
“Because he didn’t look at that chick?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s been off his game lately. He tells me it’s getting too easy,” Mason says, dropping his voice to a whisper.
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
We shut up as we enter Ollie’s aisle where he’s holding up two bottles and inspecting the labels. “I know you were talking about me,” he says.
“Whaaat . . . ?” Mason acts surprised, but it’s unconvincing. I’m glad he’s practically a different person when he’s doing a presentation or negotiating with our partners and suppliers. Otherwise, we’d never get anything done.
“We were just worried about you,” I say, ignoring Mason’s nudge in my rib cage.
“Just because I didn’t ogle some girl?” Ollie puts one bottle back on the shelf and holds up the other one. “I think this is the one Mom likes, right?”
Mason stares at the label blankly. “I have no idea.”
“Yes, it is,” I say impatiently. “And yes, we were worried because you didn’t ogle some girl.”
“I just don’t feel like banging some random girl right now. If I feel like it, it won’t take long for me to find someone anyway, so why look now?” Ollie asks, taking the bottle and walking toward the cashier.