Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
The stares.
People don’t mean to be rude. They’re just curious. They see a woman with no eyebrows and peach fuzz on her head, and they can’t help but take a closer look.
They wonder what my story is. Have I been ill? Am I getting better? Will I die soon?
Or maybe they think I’m in a heavy metal band. Or a cult.
“Ignore it,” Mom says. “Don’t let it bother you.”
“Are you kidding?” I roll my eyes. “It’s not that it bothers me. I’m so happy to be alive, especially after what happened to…”
“Sweetheart, what happened to the attorney wasn’t your fault.”
“I know.” I sigh, looking over my menu. “I just wish…”
“Wish what, honey?”
Wish I could be honest. Wish I could tell you about the Uber driver and the drone flying over my backyard. Wish I could tell you I’m in love with Vinnie Gallo, and that the thought of never seeing him again…
Nope, can’t say any of that.
“I’m fine.” I clear my throat. “As fine as I can be, at least. I think I’ll have a cheeseburger.”
“That sounds great. I’ll have the same.”
My appetite has been ravenous since I’ve been recovering. It’s like my body is telling me to put back on the weight I lost. Build up those muscles again. Even when my heart is breaking—and on a normal day that would take away my appetite—it hasn’t happened.
“And what can I get the two of you today?” Our server stops at the table.
“Cheeseburger,” I say. “Medium, with all the fixings.”
“You got it. Would you like fries with that?”
“Onion rings, I think.”
“Perfect.” She makes notes and turns to my mother. “And for you, ma’am?”
“The same. Only fries for me instead of rings. And a diet soda.”
“Yes, of course.” She turns back to me. “I forgot to get your drink, ma’am.”
“Do you have Orange Crush?”
“I’m afraid we don’t. We have orange juice.”
Bleh.
“Just a diet cola will be fine then. Thanks.”
“You ask every time,” Mom laughs. “And no restaurant ever has it.”
“One might someday.” I unfold my napkin and place it in my lap.
Mom rakes her gaze over me slowly. “So how are things coming over at your house?” she asks. “Are you getting everything set up for you to settle in?”
More than she knows. “Yes, it’s coming along great.”
A brand-new security system, plus a new bodyguard. But if I tell her about the bodyguard, she’ll just worry.
The rest of lunch goes by with a half hour of inane chit-chat. No dessert—though I was craving something a little sweet. Mom settles the bill and then we walk over to the movie theater.
Mom scans the walls of movie posters lining the box office area. “Which one were you thinking of seeing, sweetheart?”
“The new Matt Damon one looked pretty good.”
Mom wrinkles her nose. “He never did much for me.”
I frown. “Did you have something else in mind?”
“No, of course not.” Mom squeezes my shoulder. “We’ll see whatever you want to see.”
We grab our tickets, and Mom raises her eyebrows when I dogleg toward the snack bar.
“You’re still hungry?”
I nod. “I’m always hungry, Mom. My body is, anyway. Sometimes I have to force the food through my mouth to give my body the sustenance it longs for.”
She smiles. “I suppose that’s a good thing.” She grabs her wallet and hands me her credit card. “Get whatever you like, angel.”
I smile at her. Mom still loves to pretend like I’m twelve years old when we go out and do things like this. As if I don’t have millions in my trust fund that can cover the overpriced bucket of popcorn I’m about to purchase.
I end up getting the largest bucket, along with extra butter, of course. On a whim I also get a bag of M&M’s, which I dump unceremoniously into the popcorn. Sweet and salty.
The nice thing about the movie is that I don’t have to talk. Mom was chatting all through lunch to distract us both from what happened with Brick. Now the movie can do the chatting for us.
I munch on my popcorn, barely absorbing the plot of the film.
A few hours later, we make the drive back home.
Only to find my father there, along with Falcon and Leif.
“Oh God,” I say. “I guess they’re not finished yet.”
“It’s okay.” Mom sighs. “I’ll deal.”
Once we’re out of the car, we join them.
Leif is explaining the new system, and when he’s done, Dad looks at Falcon.
“I need to speak with you and Leif. Now.”
What about? But I don’t ask. If Falcon needs to tell me, he will.
Once Falcon and Leif head back to my father’s study, Mom gives me a quick hug. “This was a fun day, Raven. A nice escape. We should do it more often.”
I force a smile. It’s difficult, and not because I didn’t enjoy the day with my mother. I did. It’s difficult because I’m hiding so much from her, and I hate that.