Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Though, as I’m nearing the middle, I realize I don’t really have an end to write.
At least not one remotely interesting.
Should I make something up or stick with facts?
There’s no way anyone can verify what I write. I don’t want to show any literal records or proof. For now, anyway.
But something about lying makes me all itchy. I can’t do it. No matter how hard I try.
So I sigh, lean back, and stare at my story, wondering how the hell I should continue it.
I was hoping this one would be the big one for the magazine, but I know my boss would never accept a half-finished story. Let alone an erotically charged one.
I need to let this simmer for a while. So I close the page and check the time. Not yet quitting time. Then I remember today’s also the day I get paid … and a smile immediately forms on my lips.
Not because I’m happy to get some cash. It just means I get to do something I can only do once every month.
I go to the site that has a list of all the charities looking for donations, and I pick one that I haven’t sent anything to before. Then I go to the donate form, fill in all my info, and pay directly.
No ifs, no buts. I give them all I can spare right now. Without it, I can still live, pay rent, buy food, etcetera. It’s the minimal amount I need to survive, and that’s enough.
These people need it more than I do. And giving it away means they get to do something good with it, which makes me happy. It makes me feel good about myself, so what more could you want?
Besides, I’ve had my fair share of living the rich lifestyle when I lived with my mom and dad. It wasn’t exactly as picture perfect as it’s often portrayed. I’d honestly rather live how I live right now than spend one more minute in that toxic environment where the only thing that seems to matter is how others view you.
I don’t care about what other people think of me. I don’t need money, or a husband, or a big house to feel like I have something worth giving. To feel like my life matters.
This—giving my salary away so these people can do something good with it—is what matters.
Suddenly, my phone rings.
It’s not the one I use for work … or anything else important.
It’s the one Declan has the number for.
Without picking it up, I stare at the screen, frowning. Should I take the call? He was such an asshole last time. How much worse can it get? Then again, he has my picture. Maybe he wants to negotiate.
However, Dad always said never to negotiate with people who are only out to make you crumple. I shouldn’t even attempt to talk to him as long as he still has them. At least, that’s what I think my dad would say. I’d never actually go to him for advice on these things. No way. I’d rather die than have him know about all my failed attempts at romance and sex.
No, I have to decide this on my own. And without Declan providing me with proof that he’s not keeping the one that shows my face, it’s not worth going any further. I can’t risk him exposing me publicly like that.
So I ignore the call and turn off that phone, hoping he won’t try again.
I need some time away from him so I can think about what to do next, and talking to him isn’t going to make that any easier.
My phone rings again, and for a second there, I almost get pissed off before I realize it’s the other one that’s ringing now. It’s Mom, so I pick it up.
“Kat, where are you?” she asks.
“At work.”
“Did you forget we had an appointment today?”
Appointment? What is she …?
“Fuck!”
“Kat!” She always hates it when I swear out loud. Oops.
“Sorry!” I say, checking my calendar, which indeed shows I penned down that my mom was coming over to dinner early today. “I completely forgot.”
“Should I go back home?” she asks.
“No, no,” I say, quickly packing up my things. “I’m coming.”
“How long is it going to take?”
“I’ll be there in a minute, I promise,” I say.
“Okay … don’t make me wait too long,” she says, before hanging up the phone.
Great. Just what I needed. Forgetting an actual dinner date with my mom at my place because I was so obsessed with work … and someone else.
Oh well, better get there quick before she loses her temper and calls my dad. I don’t want to give them another reason to fight.
As I hurry out the door, I bump into Crystal, who immediately opens her mouth. “Kat, I was just looking for you. Do you—”