Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
“Unless the tire marks on its body are a fashion statement, I’m pretty sure it’s dead.” Row tugged me by the arm out of the room, turning me in the other direction and forcing me to march out into the hallway.
“This is sick.”
“Agreed.” But Row seemed more pissed off than surprised. Which begged the question—had he been the target of something similar before?
“Who could’ve done this?” I glanced over my shoulder at his face. Row advanced toward the hallway window in a daze, his scowl deepening, trying to see if someone was lurking nearby.
“Any one of the nine hundred and twenty-eight people living in this town. Every single one of them is a suspect, seeing as they all hate my guts.”
“This happened before?”
“I’ve had people pranking me, but this is some next-level shit. Vandalizing my property is a step too far.” He squared his shoulders. “I’m going to break some skulls.”
Well, this was terrible news to me.
Because just as he said that, I keeled over, emptying my stomach onto his brand-new lush carpet.
ROW
Row: You okay?
Cal: I was a second ago. Now a stranger is texting me and I’m a little freaked out. Who is this?
Row: Row.
Cal: Oh. Hi, boss. What do you want?
Row: To see if you’re okay. Hence my above question. Program me in.
Cal: Aww. Casablancas. Are we having a moment?
Row: Of regret. You’re my employee. I wanted to know whether you are good for service tonight. Get over yourself.
Cal: Boo.
Row: ARE YOU OKAY OR ARE YOU NOT OKAY? HOW HARD IS IT TO ANSWER A YES OR NO QUESTION?
Cal: I’m okay.
Row: Good.
Cal: Are you okay?
Row: Now that I’m about to finish this conversation? Very.
ROW
There were countless things I disliked in this world. A never-ending list of shit that ground my gears. To name a few: overcooked seafood, foreign films that won Oscars, any music made after 2015, the vast majority of humans, and porn that had more than three minutes of plot.
But the thing I loathed more than anything else, hands down, was getting visitors while I was working. Especially when I had to leave early for some bullshit town hall meeting.
Which was why I was currently every shade of pissed off under the sun.
“No visitors,” I maintained to Rhy, charring an octopus at my sous-chef’s station. Had I or had I not said I hated overcooked seafood?
Rhy wedged his shoulder between the metal shelves, which were laden with containers full of produce. The kitchen was approximately the temperature of the sun. “Listen, man, I get the frustration, but you gotta hear her out.”
“No, I don’t.” I slid the perfectly browned octopus onto a plate with a poached egg, blackberry jam, and a mandarin salad. “Being accommodating is your trait. Being an asshole is mine.”
“She’s your ex-girlfriend.” He puffed out his cheeks.
“Ex is the operative word here.” But she had never been a girlfriend either. Allison Murray and I had seen each other a handful of times when I’d first moved back. It had lasted barely a couple weeks. She was like a Range Rover. Pure status symbol and unreasonably high maintenance. Her entire allure was that Cal seemed to hate her, and Cal didn’t hate anyone.
“Right.” Rhy blew out an irritated exhale. “How about you need to see her because she’s the mayor of the town you live in?”
I tossed another octopus into a buttered pan, sprinkling it with herbs. “Not for long.”
“It’s probably about GS Properties.” Rhy unscrewed a bottle of S.Pellegrino, taking a long sip. “She might have info she doesn’t want you to be ambushed with later today.”
That got my attention. I grabbed a dishcloth from my station and wiped my hands, dumping it onto the butcher block. “Give me five. I’ll meet her in the upstairs office.”
I made a Rose Kennedy, double the vodka—her favorite—before trudging my way upstairs. Allison and I had never meshed well. She was the wrong type of go-getter, the kind that ran people over on her way places. She had tried too hard to impress me, to keep me, to seduce me, which resulted in me breaking things off before I’d even had a chance to take her for a spin.
When I pushed open the door to my office, Allison was already there. Perched on the edge of my L-shaped desk, legs crossed in a tight gray pencil skirt and a white blouse, the first three buttons undone.
She had scarlet hair and matching lipstick, and red-soled heels higher than Willie Nelson. At twenty-six, she was the youngest mayor in the United States. Impressive, even if Staindrop had fewer citizens than some sheds.
“Ambie.” She looked up from her phone, setting it down and uncrossing her legs à la Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct. “I see you brought me my favorite.” Her ruby lips parted alluringly.
“Pardon my shitty manners.” I placed the cocktail on the desk and stepped back, resting a shoulder against the wall. “But what brings you in, Al? I gotta wrap things up before the town hall meeting tonight.”