Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Oh yeah? Well, don’t worry. There’re plenty of fish in the sea.”
“Yeah.” He moped. “I think I’m gonna like an ugly one next time.”
I held back my laughter. “An ugly one?”
“All the pretty ones are so bossy and mean. But the ugly ones are usually pretty cool.”
Maybe he should be advising me on girls, instead of the other way around.
“That sounds like a good plan. But let me give you one piece of advice.”
“What?”
“Don’t tell the girl you decided to like her because she wasn’t one of the pretty ones.”
“Yeah. I won’t.” He reeled in his line with a smirk on his face. “I bet the girl wearing your shirt when you changed her tire a few weeks ago was really, really mean.”
I laughed. The kid didn’t miss a thing. Normally, I didn’t bring women around Lucas. Not that I didn’t think he wouldn’t be cool with it, but because the relationships I had didn’t generally last too long. Except a few weeks ago when he’d met Elena—the hot little meter maid who took care of more than one fantasy I’d had about a girl in uniform. We’d spent the night before my regular every-other-Saturday visit with Lucas at my place. Ten minutes after I’d picked him up, she called my cell to say her car needed a jump outside of my building—where I’d left her still in my bed. I couldn’t very well not go back and take care of her car when she’d taken such good care of me. So Lucas met Elena. I’d said she was a friend, but apparently he’d put two and two together. The little shit.
“Elena was very nice.” Until I didn’t call the entire next week. Then she told me to fuck off. And suddenly yesterday I started getting parking tickets when I parked in my usual spot outside the office.
“My friend Jack says you should ask a girl three questions, and if she answers no to any of them, you shouldn’t like her.”
“Oh yeah? What questions are those?”
Lucas counted off on his fingers, holding up his thumb for one. “First, you ask if she’s ever let anyone copy her homework.” He raised his pointer finger. “Second, you ask if she can eat more than one slice of pizza. And third…” He added his middle finger. “You need to know if she’s ever gone out in her pajamas.”
“Interesting.” I scratched at my chin. I might have to test this theory myself. “Does Lulu eat more than one slice of pizza?”
“She eats salad.”
He said it like the word was a curse. But there was something to that. When I take a woman to a nice Italian restaurant or steakhouse and she orders a salad—half the time not finishing it because she’s too full—that’s never a good sign.
“Let me ask you something. How did your friend Jack come up with this test?”
“He’s got an older brother who’s eighteen. He also told him that if you tell a girl you have three testicles, she’ll always let you show her your wiener.”
That one I’d most definitely be trying out. I wondered if it would work on Little Miss Daddy Owns a Winery.
“Uh, I don’t think you should try out that last piece of advice. Could get you arrested for indecent exposure.”
Lucas and I spent our entire day fly-fishing. He caught a bucket full of trout. I caught a tan. When I drove him back to Fanny’s house, she was her usual friendly self. I had to stick my foot in the door to keep her from slamming it shut in my face after Lucas and I said goodbye.
“I need to speak to you a minute.”
Both hands flew to her hips. “Is your check not gonna clear?”
God forbid that happen.
“My check is fine. As was the one that I gave to Kick Start, the day camp I paid for Lucas to go to this summer.”
Fanny was a pain in the ass, but she was sharp. She didn’t need anything explained to her.
“Have to help out my sister. He’ll get to go for half of it.”
“And what about my Saturday visits?”
She ignored my question. “You know, he’s been asking a lot of questions about his mother this week. I found some old journals of Sophia’s. They make for some pretty interesting reading.”
“He’s too young to read his mother’s journals.”
“That’s the problem with young people today. Parents protect them too much. Reality isn’t always perfect. The sooner they learn that the better.”
“There’s a difference between giving a kid a dose of reality and scarring him for life.”
“I guess we’re lucky it’s up to me to determine what will scar him and what won’t, then.”
Yeah, right. “What about my weekends?”
“You can keep him until six instead of five when we get back. It’ll make up the lost hours.”
Unbelievable. “I promised him I’d see him every other Saturday. I don’t want to let him down.”