Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
But what surprises me most about my situation is that people in this city still care that I was with my therapist. This is D.C. They have enough shit to gossip about. Like politicians caught in the act with hookers and government officials taking bribes. So, why is my relationship with Lila still the topic of conversation among the locals?
I type a few nasty responses back to some asshole on Twitter. He’s a fucking Flyers fan, go figure. Their fans still haven’t let me forget about smashing in Dean’s face. Will I ever get some distance from the mistakes of my past? Every time I open an app on my phone, I’m greeted with another reminder of all of the shit I fucked up.
I love interacting with fans, but this dude is a fucking jerk off. He knows exactly how to get under my skin. Someone used the pictures of Lila and me to turn them into GIFs. There are hundreds of animated images of me online. I’m used to hockey fans recirculating my fights and knockouts on social media. The YouTube videos of my fight with Dean have been watched over five million times.
But Lila didn’t sign up for this.
She didn’t ask for this unwanted fame.
Marcel knocks on my bedroom door and then pokes his head inside. “Everything okay in here?”
“Just dealing with these assholes on Twitter,” I say through gritted teeth, squeezing the phone until it makes my hand hurt. “They won’t give up.”
He strolls into my room and plops down on the bed with me.
I hand him my phone. “She doesn’t deserve this.”
Marcel sighs and gives the phone back to me. “No, she doesn’t. But you can’t stop it. You can’t throw money at this.”
“These people need to get a life.” As if programmed into my muscle memory, I raise my arm to throw the phone, and Marcel grabs my wrist.
“Don’t do it, Duke.”
I take a deep breath and lower my arm. “Thanks.”
He taps me on the back. “You’ll get her back,” he says after a long pause. “She’s probably just waiting it out.”
“Yeah. But I need to fix this now. I don’t want to sit on my ass, waiting for something to happen.”
“Then, take action,” he challenges. “Go get your girl back.”
“She lost her contract with the team because of me. I can’t get it back for her. I’ve already tried.”
“Maybe you need to go above Tom’s head.”
“No way. I need someone with connections.”
“Your dad has plenty,” he points out.
I shake my head. “He doesn’t have enough.”
“Didn’t you say Lila’s ex works for a politician?”
“Yeah. He’s Chief of Staff to Senator Banks.”
He tips his head with a knowing look in his eyes. “There’s your answer.”
“What could her ex-husband do for me?”
“He’s a big fan, right?”
“He was a big fan… until he found out I was fucking his ex-wife.”
Marcel laughs. “Senator Banks has a lot of pull in this town.”
I narrow my eyes. “And how would that get Lila her contract back?”
“Go talk to the ex. I’m sure his crooked boss can scratch your back if you scratch his.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of this.”
He smirks. “Sometimes, you need to think outside the box.”
“Thanks for the push.” I smile for the first time in weeks. “I got a politician to annoy.”
I hate it when people make me wait. Patience has never been one of my strong suits. After Marcel gave me the bright idea to talk to Senator Banks, I drove over to the Capitol Building. The traffic in D.C. is a pain in the dick. You need to add at least an extra half hour to your day just to get where you need to be on time. It took me over forty minutes to get here, and then, it was a real hassle to get inside.
A middle-aged redhead with a squeaky voice that’s painfully annoying answers one phone call after another. I rushed over in the same sweats and Caps tee without thinking about how I look. Not like I care. But I wouldn’t recommend dressing like you rolled out of bed when you visit a place filled with suits.
A few people recognized me, while most of the stuck-up suits tipped their nose up at me. Fucking snobs. I hate politics and all the bullshit that surrounds it. I feel like I’m in an episode of House of Cards. I don’t belong in a place like this. I have no idea what I will say to the senator when we meet. But I’m sure we can come to an agreement. There has to be something he wants.
My cell phone rings for the tenth time since the secretary told me to take a seat. She peeks up from her computer, glaring at me until I silence the ringer. If I wasn’t waiting for Lila to come to her senses, I wouldn’t have replaced the phone I broke. The damn thing rings off the hook day and night.