Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
That also meant there was a lot of fabric.
And one of the rude morons squeezing past me caught the right side of my coat as they got on the train, pulling it up with them. I knew I couldn’t move as I wobbled on the platform, but I couldn’t work out why until the doors to the train shut and I saw my coat stuck in between them.
Call it adrenaline, call it my body being instinctively used to bizarre things happening to me, but I dropped my large purse with my laptop in it and spun out of the coat just in time for it to whiz away with the train, the left arm of the coat yanking my shoulder with the force as it was stripped from me.
“Holy shit,” I heard behind me. “Fast reflexes!”
I turned to see a group of teenagers I was pretty sure should be in school swaggering toward me, eyes wide, grinning at me.
A boy in ripped tight jeans and a pink oversized sweater hopped toward me, staring at me in awe. “Sis, that was dope!” He high-fived me, and I laughed a little hysterically as I high-fived him back. His friends surrounded me, patting me on the shoulders, reaching for their own high fives.
“Right?” I grinned maniacally, still in shock. “So dope.” Why am I saying the word “dope”?
“Epic as fuck,” one girl said. “I so wish we caught it on film.”
“Hey,” the boy in the pink sweater picked up my bag to hand it to me. “Is that what you’re doing?” He glanced around, searching the subway. “You filmin’ a stunt show or somethin’?”
“Yeah,” I lied, my heart pounding. “Don’t do it at home, kids. I’m a professional. Gotta go do . . . more crazy-as-fuck stunts.” Oh, please stop, Hallie.
They nodded, wide-eyed, asking me if they’d be on the show. I mumbled something vague and put every ounce of energy into strutting away. Once I was out of sight, my wobbly legs gave up and I slumped into the wall.
Oh my God, I could have died. People hurrying downward ignored me because it was New York, and I forced myself upward to the light of day. Every inch of my body shook from my near-death experience.
It wasn’t until I was out of the subway, walking through the drizzly city streets and toward the office, that I realized I’d also just lost my favorite coat.
I blamed Captain Christopher Ortiz and my mother for distracting me.
* * *
“You told them you were filming a stunt show?” Althea’s lips twitched as she stood near the door to my office. “The urge I have to laugh should not undermine my sincere concern for what just happened to you.”
“You can laugh. I looked like an idiot high-fiving them.”
Althea had one of those contagious cackles so out of sync with her sophisticated good looks that I couldn’t help but laugh too.
After a little while, she straightened, wiped tears from her eyes, and forced her full mouth into a serious pinch. “Okay, the last bit was funny. But the bit where you almost died really is not. What happened to you has happened to other people and ended . . . not well. Please be more careful.”
The reminder that people had died in incidents like that made me feel mildly nauseated. I couldn’t tell George. He would lecture me for days.
“At least my laptop is okay,” I said, opening it up on my desk. “Though my poor coat.”
“Your coat? You’re worried about your coat?”
It was much easier to dwell on the coat than to think about how close I’d just come to death.
“All that matters is that you’re alive.” Dominic, our other colleague, suddenly appeared in the hall outside my office. “You do realize how shallow you seem mourning a coat when your family could be mourning you?”
“Oh please, like you wouldn’t be the first one lining up to take her office.” Althea glowered at him. “Also, eavesdropping is creepy.”
“I’m horrified by the insinuation. About the office, I mean,” he replied emotionlessly, then looked around my small space. “Though I’d certainly decorate it more tastefully.”
Ever since my promotion to senior event manager, Dominic had been a little bit of a shit to me.
Ignoring him, I looked at Althea. “It was a designer coat. I got it on sale. Fifty percent off.”
“Ooh, that does hurt.”
“So does a train going at fifty miles per hour,” Dominic quipped.
Althea curled her lip at him. “You’re sick.”
He smirked at her, his eyes dipping insolently down her long body before returning to me. “Also, that coat didn’t even suit you. The train did you a favor.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Althea moving closer to the doorway as Dominic continued.
“You’re really too short for designer pieces like that. You should try—”
Althea slammed the office door shut in his face, and he yelped and jumped back as it almost smacked into his nose.