Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“Bruh,” Gisela interrupted. “Do you realize that your story about your ex, and Merriam’s story, are like, the exact same?”
“What do you mean?”
Merriam sighed. “Here we go.”
“Mer’s ex was a wannabe US senator,” she said. “He started dating her last year and wanted her at all the events. She tried, but working for her dad, she had to do long hours and couldn’t just take off like she might have wanted. He’s all about the appearance, perception, and persona. Mer couldn’t go out into public with sweatpants on because she ‘might embarrass him.’ Then, one day when she was going to be working late but ended up going to Tate’s place early because one of the candy machines broke, she found him fucking his secretary on the couch. He literally pulls away from her, dick still wet, and asks her if she wants to join in. But they’ll ‘have to keep their bedroom play on the downlow to protect his reputation.’”
I chuckled. “Glad that you got rid of him.”
“It was epic how she did,” Gisela kept going. “She went live on Facebook. And since Tate had been adding all these ‘higher society’ people to her Facebook page, she was friends with so many of his colleagues and friends, that it went viral.”
“Does this happen to be the US senator wannabe Tate Contre?” Lance asked.
“Yes,” Merriam grumbled.
“I knew him. I actually watched that live on Facebook as it happened. Someone had shared it because your page was public.” He laughed. “That was the best thing I’ve ever seen. The woman didn’t even act like it was a big deal. Like it was normal for her to be caught having sexual relations with her boss, and also being live on Facebook. Isn’t she some big sex superstar now?”
“You know she is,” Gisela laughed. “She was famous for a hot minute there.”
Merriam grimaced. “I could tell you now that I made a mistake filming. I should’ve never given her that kind of audience. She is like a cockroach, winding up in places that she never should’ve been. Now she’s made millions sucking dick, and I’m still struggling to make ends meet.”
“She made millions, but so has my ex,” I admitted. “One thing you can say about cockroaches, they’ll continue to thrive in any condition.”
“What did yours end up doing?” she wondered.
The waitress came up and we placed our orders for drinks and wings before I answered.
“Pretty much made herself famous on social media over her ‘hot hockey fiancé’ breaking up with her. And how she moved on and turned herself into bigger and better. She’s married now and makes social media content on her farm homestead with her cows that she has no clue how to milk,” I grumbled.
“She sounds fantastic,” Merriam lied. “Now, how about we talk about something that doesn’t piss us off? Like politics?”
We all had a good laugh at that.
“There’s just something about discussing politics and religion that make everyone not want to fight.” Eliska snorted. “While we’re at it, we could talk about vaccines and whether or not we want to give them to our future children.”
“I kind of liked having chicken pox,” Merriam admitted. “It made me skip a few days of school, and I didn’t have to go to work at the candy shop after.”
“When did you have chicken pox?” I asked.
“When I was fifteen,” she said. “Which, they say, is way more awful than getting them when you’re young.”
“I actually had chicken pox last year,” Eliska said. “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”
“Here ya go,” The waitress came back with the drinks and set them all down onto the table, not bothering to pass them out. That would take too much time, and she had a ton of tables to cover that were all looking at her, wanting her attention. “Your order’s been put in.”
Then she left.
“She seems frustrated,” Lance noted.
“She’s probably worked to the bone because she’s the only waitress here,” Gisela murmured. “Didn’t they have four or five waitresses working last week when we came, Mer?”
“Yeah,” she answered. “But all of them sucked. I didn’t see a single waitress that had a table that looked happy.”
“I actually noticed that myself,” I pointed out. “I even mentioned it to the owner when he came by to check on our table.”
“Wow, you got the owner to talk to you?” Gisela asked. “One time a waitress spilled an entire plate of hot wings into Mer’s lap, then tried to make her pay for them anyway. When she asked to speak to the owner, he’d refused to come out. So we left.”
“I wouldn’t have come back,” I murmured.
“I tried, but everyone else sucks at making hot wings like this place.” She shrugged. “I’ll deal with the bad service if I get my chicken wings cooked the way I like them.”