Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 43920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 220(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 220(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
“To make themselves more legitimate.”
“Did I mention the websites and the Venmo? Some of them, their albums are on iTunes, for goodness’ sake.”
“We could ask,” I suggested.
“And listen to people hem and haw and need to think about it? Screw that. Anyone would be lucky for the opportunity to play at La Belle Vie, but more importantly, we don’t have time to wait or for indecision. We need a band now, Chris, not tomorrow, not next week. Now.”
I huffed out a breath. “Fine.”
“Okay, then. We’re agreed. You’ll call the booker.”
“Fine. But you have to meet her with me.”
“Oh, darling, that’s a given after your choices here lately.”
“I—”
“We cannot have her thinking that a metal group or a gospel group is something that’s going to work for us simply because you don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
“That’s not what—”
“Oh, of course you can play here,” she said, again doing the horrible impersonation that everyone agreed sounded nothing like me. “No, it’s fine, we like Nordic Folk all-percussion and lute music. It’s our favorite.”
“You’re a bad person.”
She cackled. “I thought the high notes were going to break the glassware. So did Xo.”
“You better stop picking on me or I’ll call your mother.”
“And say what?” she goaded me.
“That your apartment in the Warehouse District is empty because you live with Michael Tucker in the Garden District in a lovely house where you give the man the milk for free.”
Her gasp was loud.
“What?” I asked innocently.
“You did not just say that!”
I scoffed. “I’m just repeating what your mother said when you told her you were thinking—just thinking, I might add—about moving in with the nice doctor.”
“You were supposed to be my backup.”
“I was,” I said defensively.
“No,” she insisted. “Let’s think back, shall we?”
“Let’s not,” I muttered. It had not, in fact, been one of my finer moments.
“You folded like a house of cards in a barely there breeze.”
“Yes, but your mother is so nice, and she really likes me.”
“It should be more important that I like you.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. “Should it? I mean, she feeds me all the time, and makes sure I’m invited over for all the holidays.”
“Everyone wants you for the holidays,” Simone said sulkily.
“Yes, but your mother always makes me my special apple-crumble pie.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I know.”
“And her love language is service, making things, but we both know what she really wants more than anything.”
“I refuse to have this conversation with you again.”
“This is the year, my friend.”
“What?”
“Don’t what me. You and I both know that Michael keeps trying to take you away on romantic vacations to pop the question, and you keep blaming me for not being able to go.”
“That’s not completely true.”
“You can’t keep telling him that shit. I refuse to be the cockblock on his happy life,” I apprised her. “He’s gonna start to hate me.”
“No,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I already told him you’d let me go anywhere, anytime with him.”
“You did? When was this?”
“On Monday.”
“No wonder he was so nice to me on the phone yesterday.”
“Uh. Whatever.”
“You should just tell him that a grand gesture is not necessary,” I suggested. “You love him, just tell him yeah, I’ll marry you.”
She crossed her arms, saying nothing.
“What’s the issue?”
“What if I mess it up?”
“Why would you do that?”
“I have no idea, but I’ve messed up things in the past.”
“With guys who weren’t right for you.”
“How do you know that? Maybe they were, but I—”
“They weren’t right. They didn’t get you or the fact that you’re funny.”
She was quiet a moment. “You think I’m funny?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh.”
“And Michael always laughs at your jokes.”
“That’s true.”
“For a neurosurgeon, he’s very pretty,” I reminded her.
“He is. A bit.”
“And one of these days, he’s going to say to your mother at dinner, ‘Sheryl, why won’t your daughter marry me?’”
She flipped me off.
“You’re gonna be in big trouble,” I assured her. “Huge.”
Her gaze met mine. “Enjoying your Pretty Woman impression over there?”
“I am. Yes.”
She groaned.
“And she’s right, you know. You really aren’t getting any younger.”
I got the double bird that time.
“Now, I don’t agree with Sheryl that you should stop working and should instead get married and then pregnant, but of course, we have one kid at work, so we can easily have another.”
“I hate you right now.”
“You’re the one lying to your mother,” I reminded her.
Her eyes fluttered.
“More importantly, you’re paying rent for something you don’t even use.”
She grunted. “That part is valid. I could use that money to go toward my partner buy-in, which would be smart.”
We were silent for a moment.
“You should take over my place. I know you love it,” she suggested. “And that apartment you’re in is much too small for you.”
I scoffed. “It’s perfect for me, and you know it. I’m hardly ever there except to sleep, it’s mostly quiet, I don’t have roaches because the spiders eat them, and it’s not haunted.”