Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“Sorry,” Jeremy said at last. “I guess I shouldn’t have asked.”
Jean could have said it had nothing to do with him. “Never ask me again.”
The rest of the ride downtown passed in dead silence.
Jean had incorrectly assumed Jeremy was taking him to his dorm room. He saw the USC signs start to pop up along the side of the road, along with more detailed signs with directions and distances. Instead, Jeremy turned off and entered a neighborhood of close, squat buildings and too many cars. The pale yellow house he was looking for was halfway down a narrow street. One car was already parked in a driveway barely big enough for it with a motorcycle parked lengthways in front of it, so Jeremy double-parked at the curb.
When Jean got out of the car empty-handed Jeremy prompted him, “Bag?”
Jean doubted anyone in this neighborhood would break into the car just for a small suitcase, but he didn’t know the area well enough to be sure of it. He obediently pulled the carry-on out, and Jeremy locked the car from his fob as soon as the passenger door was closed.
Three uneven steps led them up to a porch barely big enough for both their bodies. Jeremy flipped through his cluttered keyring until he found the one he needed, and he let them inside with a cheery, “We’re here!” that Jean didn’t think anyone could hear over the music blaring at the far end of the hall. Jeremy toed out of his shoes just inside the door, so Jean did the same as he tugged the door closed behind them. The door had a chain as well as a deadbolt, but since the former hadn’t been up to keep him and Jeremy out, he let it dangle free for now.
They passed a small den without slowing, intent on making it to the kitchen. Jean hesitated in the doorway to take in the chaos. The island was absolutely cluttered with Tupperware. A rice cooker was open and billowing steam, a blender full of something very purple was leaking in two places, and three different cutting boards were covered in rejected pieces of what Jean assumed used to be actual food.
The music was from a boombox on the counter, and the room’s lone occupant—Catalina Alvarez, number 37, starting backliner—was using a head of cauliflower as a microphone so she could sing along. She caught sight of them on a ridiculous whirl around and immediately cast the cauliflower to one side. Instead of cranking the boombox’s volume down to a tolerable level, she simply yanked its plug out of the outlet.
“The boys!” she said, triumphant, like she’d had anything to do with their arrival. “You just missed Laila. She had to pop out for more rice.”
“You just bought rice,” Jeremy said. “I was there.”
“Yes,” Catalina said, “but I might have forgotten the bag was already open when I tossed it at the island.” Jean and Jeremy both glanced down and saw the floor was littered with little brown grains. Catalina waved off Jeremy’s exasperated look and leaned past him to peer at Jean. “So this is the wonder boy? You’re taller in person. Nice. We need more height on the backline.”
“Jean, Cat, Cat, Jean,” Jeremy said, waving between them. “If you want to give him the grand tour I can try and salvage… this.” He sent a meaningful look around at the chaos.
“No, no, it can sit,” Cat said. “I’ve got a couple lids still in the dishwasher, anyway. Since you’re here, we’ll start here. Good? Good!” She glanced at Jean for only a second before opening and closing cabinets and drawers in rapid succession. “With Jillian we kind of just mixed all our food together, but if you want your own space for things we left you these shelves here. Don’t bother doubling up on the basic stuff, okay? Space is too limited for that. Seasonings, breading, whatever, just take it from our side first.
“Fridge,” she said, as if he couldn’t see it, and she swung it open to indicate a clear corner. “Same goes here. Laila and I do meal prep for the week’s breakfasts and lunches, so we use a lot of space. Sorry in advance and good luck making anything fit. We keep stickers on the side here,” she pointed to a little wire basket held in place by magnets, “and a marker so you can track expiration dates as needed. Put the marker back when you’re done. Please put the marker back. Laila never remembers and I can never find it again. I have bought so many markers. So many.
“Pots and pans,” Cat said, moving on to the cabinets built into the island. “User beware: the big pot doesn’t have a lid. I don’t remember breaking it, but I haven’t been able to find it in like two months. Over here—”