Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“What? The Greens’ lease is not up for another four months. I have been working with the condo owners’ real estate agent, and he assured me he would contact me a month before that date so we could start the process,” Bley replies, sounding puzzled.
“So let me get this straight, Bley. You were counting on someone else to do your job. You should have been talking to the owners, not their real estate agent. What in the hell am I paying you for?” I roar, my voice echoing through the floor.
“Lincoln, you have to understand, the owners of this condo are the type of people who don't want to be involved in the nitty-gritty negotiations of a sale, so they hire other people to do that for them, and in this case, it was the real estate agent they hired.”
“Look, Bley,” I say, pacing the floor, rubbing my free hand over my face in frustration. “I have a lot of money tied up in this. The architects have drawn up the plans, the construction company doing the work has already been hired and is just waiting on the okay to get started. So, the only person who is holding this up is you. I don't want to hear any excuses. I just want you to find out what is going on and fix it,” I demand harshly.
“Okay, Lincoln, calm down. Let me make some calls and find out what this is about,” he answers nervously.”
“Fine, call me back,” I say exasperatedly before ending the call.
3
C
Back at the real estate office I sign the lease agreement, write out a check for the first and last months’ rent plus deposit, and collect the keys from Mrs. Ruth. We exchange hugs and I thank her for her patience in finding me a place. Then, with one last wave goodbye, I get into my truck and drive back toward the flower shop. On my way I text my friend, Jenna, while waiting at a traffic light and ask if she can meet for lunch, in twenty minutes, at the diner across the street from the flower shop. I then call Ben, who is at the shop working.
“Hey, how's it going?” I ask.
“Fine, everything is caught up,” Ben replies.
“Good, close up and meet at the diner in twenty minutes.”
“Close up?” he questions.
“Yes. You know, take that little sign on the front door and flip it over so the word Closed is facing—”
“I know how to close the shop,” he interrupts. I don’t have to see him to know he’s rolling his eyes. “Why am I closing the shop and going to the diner?” he asks annoyed.
“’Cause we’re celebrating...well, as much as we can on a Thursday afternoon.” I laugh.
“Holy shit, the place was up to the princess’s standards?” he questions, making me purse my lips at his princess reference.
“Whatever, just meet me at the diner. I'll tell you all about it and the hot, brooding biker who will be my new neighbor.”
“Wait. What?” With excitement and confusion in his voice, I hang up, not answering him, laughing.
After hanging up with Ben, I find Jenna has texted me back that she is on her way.
Jenna and Ben are my only friends... well, according to Facebook I have over a hundred friends. But honestly, half of those people who sent me friend requests have never said more than two words to me my whole life, and the other half are people I have dealt with through the flower shop. Jenna and Ben, they are true friends. The kind of friends who if you killed somebody, they would not ask any questions, they would just help you hide the body. I met them both my freshman year of high school. I was the youngest student to have ever attended. I'm smart, well—book smart anyway—and had been moved ahead two grades in elementary school and then another grade in middle school. I was twelve years old when I started high school and much smaller than the other girls and… well... a nerd. That made me an easy target for the bullies.
Jenna came into my life when a girl who stood a foot taller than me thought my new scarf would look better on her. The girl had cornered me in the bathroom between the sink and the automatic hand dryer and told me to take it off and hand it over. When I said no, she leaned over—her greasy hair falling on my face—and grabbed the ends of the scarf. With one side in each of her hands she began pulling in opposite directions, choking me. I was scared out of my wits, grabbing at the scarf wrapped around my neck with my hands, trying to pull it away as it tightened. I had just managed to choke out “Take it” when she let out the loudest screech I had ever heard and was yanked backward. Still holding on to the scarf around my neck, I was pulled forward, about to fall into my attacker, when a hand came between us—landing on my chest and blocking my fall. Jenna held the girl down on the floor, and then turning her head toward me with a devilish grin on her face said, “Hand me the scarf.” She then used it to tie the girl’s wrist together before wrapping and tying the ends around the drainpipe of the sink. After admiring her handiwork, Jenna stood up, looking down at the girl, and said sarcastically, “You’re right, it does look better on you.” Jenna then turned to me smiling and said “Don't worry, I will buy you a new one. Besides, now we have a reason to go shopping.” We walked out leaving the humiliated bully on the dirty floor of the bathroom, tied to the drainpipe of the sink. True to her word, we skipped the rest of that day and went to the mall, where we not only bought a new scarf we also at, Jena's insistence, bought me a whole new wardrobe. Apparently, my clothes were out-of-date. We've been inseparable ever since that day.