Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
“Good, good. My people are telling me you’re burnin’ the midnight oil at the office.” Bruce sounded impressed. Or at least he didn’t abhor my existence, which was progress.
“Yeah.” I sat back, staring at my screen, wondering where the shit he was going with this. I ran my hand over my head. My hair was growing out. Thank fuck. I was never taking things Dylan said literally ever again without asking her first. She missed the man bun. And I missed all the times she could’ve tugged on it to navigate my head exactly to the spot she wanted licked when I gave her oral.
“I also heard your pretty little fiancée is visiting you frequently.” I heard the grin in Bruce’s voice. “Bringing you food and whatnot. Very sweet.”
“Not that I don’t appreciate you stating the obvious over and over again, but is there a point to this conversation?” I enquired, not so politely.
“There is,” Bruce said. “I’ve decided to throw a little publicity junket at the ranch ahead of the app launch. Invited all them fancy-schmancy industry people we need to chummy up with. There’ll be interviews, after-parties, presentations. All the stuff.”
“Sounds good.” I was a social fucking butterfly. I thrived around people. “When’s it happening?”
“Tomorrow.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
“I don’t have a sense of humor, son.”
“No sense of time either,” I groused. “You expect me to drop everything and just go?”
“What’s the problem?” Bruce munched on what I guessed was a cigarette or a straw or my raw fucking nerves. “I’ve seen you work a crowd. Should be no issue for you.”
“I need to go over the presentation.”
“It’s the same one we showed the investors. Interactive enough and puts the point across. ’Sides, it’s only for three darn days.”
“Let me see if I have the time cleared up,” I groaned, double-clicking my digital calendar on my MacBook. Sure enough, three days from now was Dylan’s Eras Tour concert with Cal. The one for which I’d promised her I’d babysit Gravity. I’d been slacking on this part of our deal in recent weeks, since I started working on the app, and I wasn’t going to let her down.
“Can’t do the last day.” I tsked. “Dyl has a concert, and I need to take care of Grav.”
“You’re sayin’ she has a concert like she’s Dolly Parton herself.”
“I’m not doing the last day,” I maintained, my tone not leaving room for negotiation.
“Tell her to change the date,” Bruce fired back.
I chuckled wryly. “I don’t think you understand the situation, Bruce. Dylan is going to the concert—that is a fact. The junket taking place? Now, that’s fucking optional.” I leaned back in my chair, resting my feet on my desk leisurely. “So let’s unpack what’s about to happen. I’m going to drop everything and go to Texas on a whim because your disorganized ass has asked me to, and I’m a good sport like that. I will be leaving first thing Saturday morning, though, to make it back to New York on time for my fiancée.”
“The flight’s not that long. You can leave in the afternoon,” he grumbled.
“I need more time. I promised I was going to help her make friendship bracelets.”
“You’re pulling my leg.”
“No. That’s probably one of the wild animals you’re raising in your backyard.”
“You leave at one p.m., right after the last after-party. Can’t beat that deal with a stick.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, holding myself back from biting out what I was about to beat with a baseball bat.
Bruce continued. “Come on now. I’ve paid a pretty penny to fly celebrities out here.”
I dreaded to guess who he considered a celebrity but braced myself for washed-up country singers and nineties models. The latter could’ve been fun if I weren’t taken.
“Noon, I’m out of there,” I countered. “And I’m borrowing your private jet to make sure I make it in time.”
“You have some nuts on you,” Bruce complained.
“I’ll bring an EpiPen with me if you’re allergic to those.”
“Fine. But you bring me your A game. You don’t sit there and mope around watching the clock till it’s time to make friendship necklaces.”
“Bracelets,” I corrected. My fucking goodness. I had to cup my crotch to make sure my balls were still intact.
“Yeah, those.”
Rhyland: Change of plan.
Dylan: Are we going to the Italian place instead of the Burmese place?
Rhyland: No, we’re still going to the Burmese place, it took me three months and a goddamn sexual favor to secure a reservation!
Rhyland: (don’t worry, the sexual favor was flavored condoms from Japan I still had a pack of that the manager wanted)
Rhyland: (besides, the most important meal of my day, YOU, is still happening)
Dylan: That’s a lot of side notes. Hit me with the bottom line.
Rhyland: I’m going to Texas for the weekend to mingle and entertain Bruce’s journo and celebrity friends to help the app take off.