Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Again, I grunted my agreement. I hated that tie, but if it matched her flowers, then fine. After all, I was happy for my mom. Her fiancé, Frank Bowen, seems like an okay guy from what she’s told me. He has a contracting business in the city doing mostly residential jobs, and seems moderately successful.
I’m happy for Paula in many ways. After all, my mom hasn’t exactly had it easy. My dad disappeared when I was kid and my mom struggled to make ends meet as a secretary. So she sacrificed for me, working extra hard while skimping on herself so that I could compete in international swim meets.
Now, it was time for me to show my appreciation, and the least I could do was to be on-time for her wedding. So with quick movements, I got dressed in a gray suit and drove like a madman to City Hall. I dashed up the stairs of the granite building and swore under my breath. There’d been some traffic and despite my best efforts, I was almost late. Shit shit shit.
But when the doors to the marriage bureau swung open, I came to a screeching halt because the woman who stood before me was a vision in pink. She was utterly gorgeous, with golden hair trailing down her back and blue eyes that could break a man’s heart. But her expression was just as shocked as mine because it was the dancer from last night. Why was she at my mother’s wedding?
8
Janie
I’ve never been so humiliated in my life. Last night, I stood in the parking lot outside the Donkey Club for over an hour, waiting for the stranger. He’s coming, I told myself, he’s just in the bathroom. The guy just left me a huge amount of cash. What guy doesn’t follow up on a tip like that?
But as the wind ruffled my hair, I slowly began accepting the impossible: I was being stood up. It seemed our sexy encounter hadn’t been enough. Once he released, he was gone.
That’s my mistake. I shouldn’t have let him come in me. After all, why buy the cow when you’ve already had the milk? Or maybe more accurately, he’d already been milked, and he didn’t need me anymore.
As a result, I was in a crappy mood while I got ready this morning. My dad was dragging me to City Hall to celebrate his fourth marriage. Yes, that’s right. Not one, two, or three, but four freaking marriages! Even more perverse, I wasn’t even a product of one of his legal unions. Instead, I was the result of a one-night stand Frank had between marriages two and three. Yep, that’s my dad: Frank Bowen, a real Romeo back in the day.
But my father’s not a bad person. Frank raised me as a single parent and I never lacked for anything. We had food, we had shelter and I went to school. Of course, his contracting business hasn’t been doing so great recently, but it’s okay. Besides, I have the Donkey Club now, and it more than pays the bills.
As a result, I struggled into a pink chiffon number out of duty more than anything else. The dress was tight and not exactly appropriate for a civil ceremony, but I didn’t have anything else and frankly, I didn’t want to spend money for wedding number four either.
The pink material hugged my chest, and to be honest, my Double D’s were almost leaking from the strapless top. The fabric was cinched around my tiny waist and stopped just a few inches below my bottom, leaving my thighs mostly bare. I slipped into pink glittery high heels too. They were stripper shoes, but who cares? The photos would probably cut off our feet anyways.
I clattered upstairs to the marriage bureau and greeted Frank and Paula with a somewhat sour smile. My dad looked about the same. He was wearing a cheap suit with a pink flower in the lapel as he beamed with excitement. Paula looked nice. I’ve never met her because it’d been a whirlwind courtship, but she looked age appropriate. She was about fifty, with graying hair cut in a bob, and a dowdy cream-colored dress that went almost to her ankles. My dad made the introductions, and I was surprised to hear that she wasn’t in the construction business.
“Oh honey, no, not like your daddy,” Paula giggled, shooting my father a flirtatious look. Gross. Old people in love made me retch. But Paula continued.
“I am outside a lot though. It’s because my son, whom you’ll meet soon, is going to the Olympics! He’s been training since he was a boy, so I’ve spent a lot of time outside at practices,” she gushed.
Wow, really? The Olympics? That’s really impressive.
“What sport does he play?” I asked curiously. It was probably something obscure like curling or that one with the weird-shaped objects that fly through the air. What was it again? Oh right, badminton. But my dad’s fiancée surprised me again.