Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“But you’re both asses, so the new mascot has two tails. No head, whatsoever. First of its kind.”
“Fitting, right? Since there isn’t a brain between you.”
Burgess and Sig gave each other a very mature fist bump.
Mailer and Corrigan were looking at each other. “I can’t figure out how they do this,” Mailer marveled. “They don’t even need time to come up with ways to trash us.”
“It’s so natural,” Corrigan agreed, shaking his head. “I guess it’s just the kind of wisdom that comes from being ancient.”
Sig drilled the Donor with a look. “I’m twenty-nine, motherfucker.”
Mailer scooted his backward chair closer to the table. “What is the meeting really about?” He opened his mouth and closed it, as if he wasn’t sure he should share something. “Speaking of Reddit, I probably went a little too deep on a thread last night, but, uh, . . . there was something about the GM. A member of his family taking over day-to-day operations? Have you guys heard anything about that?”
Sig shot the captain a look to determine if he knew anything, but he looked just as baffled as Sig probably did. “Has anyone met his kids?”
A chorus of nos.
Burgess shrugged. “Probably just a rumor.”
Mailer slapped a hand onto Burgess’s shoulder. “The captain has spoken. It’s hearsay, I daresay.”
“We can only pray,” Corrigan tacked on.
“Oh shit. That was seamless.” They slapped approximately ninety high fives over the table while Burgess and Sig stared at each other, mentally exhausted. “We’re turning into you two right before your very eyes. How does it feel?”
“Demoralizing.” Burgess sighed.
“Guys—” Sig cut himself off when his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. There was only one person who called him, instead of texting, and it was Chloe. Sure enough, her name was scrolling by on the screen, the green circle at the bottom indicating it was a FaceTime call.
Corrigan leaned over. “Who is that?”
“Is it Chloe?” Mailer demanded to know. “Answer and put in a good word for me, man.”
“Sure, I’ll get right on that. Never.”
No way he was having a conversation with Chloe in front of this trio. But the decision was taken out of his hands when Corrigan’s fingers shot out fast and unexpectedly, hitting the button to answer the call. “Chloe!” he shouted in the general direction of the device. “Let’s run away together to Madagascar.”
Mailer wouldn’t be left out. “All three of us. Think of the possibilities.”
Watching Sig’s face, Burgess whistled low under his breath.
Probably because there was a vein the size of a vacuum hose beating in the dead center of his forehead. “Sorry about that, Chlo,” Sig managed through a dry throat, finally looking down into the smiling face of his soon-to-be stepsister. “I’m at a breakfast meeting. Is everything okay?”
“Better than okay. My morning class got canceled because my instructor is sick, so I took Pierre to a dog park. Look!” She flipped the camera around and all he saw was a young man’s smiling face. “Oops, that’s Elton.”
That single sip of smoothie was gurgling in his stomach. “Who the hell is Elton?”
“He’s at the dog park with his bichon frise.” Elton’s chin was no longer in the shot and Chloe was walking around showing Sig the doggie obstacle course, but mentally? Sig was still seeing Elton. “It’s right down the street from my building. Pierre loves it.”
As far as Sig could tell, Pierre was lying still as a statue by the water fountain, no intention of moving ever again as long as he lived.
“Sig,” Chloe started, “how quickly can someone develop separation anxiety?”
“Corrigan gets separation anxiety from Burgess,” Mailer said.
“Shut the fuck up,” Corrigan fired back. “You’re the one who has his rookie card framed on your nightstand.”
“It’s a collector’s item, bitch.”
Elton was back in the shot now, mooning at Chloe. “I don’t like that guy,” Sig said, without thinking. “Is he bothering you?”
“Who?”
“Elton, Chloe.”
“Oh! No, he’s not bothering me. He asked for my number, but . . .” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “He’s not really my type, so I told him I’m not interested in a date. But he said that was fine. That our dogs could still hang out!”
A stiletto-wearing demon was using Sig’s brain as a trampoline. “Oh, he just took your number for a dog playdate. That’s what he told you, huh?”
“Yes! I should have gotten a dog before. It’s a great way to make friends.”
Burgess leaned in. “Mute yourself for a sec.”
Sig complied. “What?”
“A bichon frise is a girl’s dog,” Burgess said, tapping his temple with his index finger. “Elton has definitely got a girlfriend or a wife.”
“Genius.” Corrigan wipes an imaginary tear. “Freaking genius.”
Sig’s Adam’s apple was trying to twist its way out of his throat and he’d already started to dig for his keys in his pocket. “You want some company, Chlo?”