Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Allison was already sitting onstage behind two classroom desks pushed together, her lips pressed against a microphone, wearing a sensible blazer and too much makeup. She looked flustered. Contrary to general belief, I didn’t enjoy seeing people suffer. I just didn’t care much unless they were blood related.
Next to her was her assistant, Lucinda, the council members’ spokesperson, Melinda Finch, and a clerk recording the meeting—old Robbie Smith.
The room was crammed with wooden library chairs, which were occupied by townsfolk who stared at me like I’d just stirred their soup with my dick.
Allison acknowledged my presence by letting out a prissy huff and giving Lucinda a pointed look, jerking her head in my direction.
“Ten minutes late, but at least he made it, ladies and gents.” A sugary grin stretched across the mayor’s face.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I proceeded inside. If I was going down, might as well do it in a fashion. People booed from the crowd. I ambled nonchalantly past them.
“Mr. Casablancas, please join us on the podium to answer questions regarding the impending deal with GS Properties.”
“I’m still not sure where the recording button is…” Robbie, beside her, stabbed his laptop keyboard, recoiling quickly, as if it were going to bite him. He had cotton candy–white hair floating over his head like a halo, suspenders, and thick-framed glasses.
“Go, Rowy! We love you!” My sister pumped her fist in the air from the ocean of wooden chairs, letting loose a loud whistle. “Woot woot.”
I kept my pace even, my posture straight as I shot her a glare. “What’re you doing here? You’re supposed to be on bed rest.” Her beaming face nestled among a hundred scowls in the crowd.
“You’re my beloved big bro. If you’re to be publicly crucified, you know I’ll always be there.”
“To support him?” Mom smiled.
“To livestream the entire thing.”
My mother began huffing and making dissatisfied faces, while Dylan waved me off. “But seriously, don’t worry about me. Mom is here to keep me safe. Dot too. She’s my bitch now!”
Sure enough, I spotted Cal, with her black overalls and white turtleneck and that face that was equally fascinating and painful to look at. My own personal sun, shining too bright and too hot.
She gave me an awkward wave, and I almost tripped, it threw me off so badly.
Then I noticed Kieran. He was sitting next to Cal, wearing a designer peacoat with the collar popped straight like a Succession character. Was he vying for the Douchebag World Championship? If so, he could count on my vote.
Also—why wasn’t Cal at work? Guess it was her day off. I’d made a point of not checking the schedule to prove to myself I didn’t care.
Great job, assface. Very convincing.
I took my place onstage between Robbie and Allison. The old man was still wrestling with his laptop, physically grabbing and shaking it into submission. He whipped his head in my direction. “Got any idea how to record on this thing?”
Scooting my chair closer to his, I peered at the screen and double-clicked the recording software. “Is it connected to the camera on that tripod?”
“Should it be?” The man’s bushy, white eyebrows flew to his forehead. “I’m filling in for Helene. Don’t have the greenest clue how to operate this thing.”
It took me eight more minutes to connect the camera to the computer so that my public crucifixion could be documented in full-color HD. When I retook my seat, Allison announced that she would moderate the town hall meeting, in which the topic at hand would be me signing the GS deal and what it meant for the future of Staindrop.
“Also, just to address the elephant in the room, even though Ambie—I mean, Mr. Casablancas—and I used to be partners, I assure you I will be treating this with the utmost professionalism this town deserves.”
We had never been partners. This shit had gone too far. I turned to look at Cal despite my better judgment. Her face was blank, caged up. What did I expect? To see her bawling into her ridiculous Lego-shaped purse? She’d never wanted me. Even when I had been balls-deep inside her, she’d been doing it so she could fuck off to college hymen-free.
“Thank you, Miss Murray, for being less discreet than a ten-foot dildo,” I drawled, perching back lazily in my seat. People gasped.
“Excuse his unpalatable sense of humor.” Allison sent me a flirtatious smile from across the panel, even though I knew she wanted to kill me for that last comment. “Now, please raise your hand if you have any specific questions regarding the contract with GS or what it might entail.”
A group of elderly women shot up from their seats in the front row.
The Righteous Gang.
I knew them well. They were town hall staples. There to yell when the first Starbucks had opened in town (then closed three months later), when I’d transformed the old train station into Descartes, or when a kid had ridden their bike on the street between two and four in the afternoon. Everything, from the width of the crosswalks to the fucking weather, offended them.