Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 129571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
“It would matter on the sweets.”
He dropped more buttons down. “You’d sell me out for a candy bar?”
“Not just any, but there’s a few. Chase bought me a candy bar called To’ak. It cost him $260.”
“Rich guys spend money on dumb things. If I pay for a three hundred dollar candy bar, it better come with a blow job.”
“Eating it felt like a blow job.”
Troy chuckled. “And you know how blow jobs feel?”
“Chase said eating the candy felt like a blow job.”
“If he compared that to chocolate, then you’re obviously doing it wrong.”
“Eww. None of your business about what I’m doing.”
He tossed some more buttons. “Why close to three hundred for a candy bar?”
“They ferment the cacao beans. Most chocolate producers skip that part because it takes time. The people who made To’ak. They ferment them, then dry, roast, de-shell, and grind each batch by hand. It takes the group around two years to just make six hundred bars.”
“You know what I realized, when you tell me about high-priced food?”
“What?”
“The people who make the stuff are always so fucking extra.”
“Extra?”
“It’s always some shit like,” he used a high-pitched voice and mocked me, “they farmed the fish in a lake filled with the most expensive bottled water. Then they read to the fish, but not Dr. Seuss. No. Shakespeare and Nietzsche. Then they taught the fish calculus, and a symphony played around the lake every night while they slept. The fish ate lobster. The fish received back massages and had meditation breaks where they considered the meaning of life. That, my friend, is why this fish is now sold at a $100,000.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“It really is. That’s why I just get some damn fish from the supermarket like a normal person, bread, fry, and eat it. End of story. Ten dollars. Still good, but without the bullshit background.”
We got to the stairs and he took his time laying a button on each step, and then lowering to the next.
“I bet the educated fish tastes better,” I said. “It would’ve had an easier life.”
“Easier life makes the flesh taste delicious?”
“That’s a little theory that many of the purists have.”
“I bet those purists are also the ones hiking up the food prices and stuffing all of the dough in their pockets.”
The debate heated up after that. I could never drag Troy over to my foodie passion, and he couldn’t convince me of dulling my senses for the sake of saving a few bucks.
Thank God Troy put these buttons down. There’s no way I would have remembered the way.
Now on my own, I walked down the button path, flashing light on each one.
Did Troy and Vivian make it to their spots? Are they looking out? Did Benny already come back? Shit. I have to hurry.
I paused to listen to the sounds throughout the mansion.
Wind blew outside. A tree scratched against the house’s surface and the creepy noise echoed through the empty hallways.
Okay. I’m fine. There’s nothing out there.
I rushed down the stairs and made sure to not knock any buttons away. My flesh shivered. It could have been the cold temperature in the neglected parts of the mansion or the fact that I worried Benny would catch me sneaking off like this.
By the time I reached the wine cellar, my hands shook and I had to hug myself to shield my body from the cold.
The door screeched open. I shined the light through the whole space. The previous owner had taken all of the wine. Only empty shelves remained with a few turned over barrels.
The door closed behind me. Checking the space some more with the flashlight, I then took the phone out and dialed Chase’s number.
It rang three times.
Please, pick up. You have to pick up.
And then his deep voice traveled over the line. “Hello?”
His name was a song. “Chase.”
Fuck. Don’t say it like that. Focus on what I need.
“Two calls in one day?” he asked. “Should I be expecting this each day?”
“You have to get away from my mother, but before you do—”
“We need to find out why she’s in this to begin with,” he finished my sentence. “Is that why you called? To talk about your mother.”
I hated the confidence all over his words. He sounded like he’d just been handed the last piece to a complex puzzle.
“Where are you Jasmine?”
I looked around. “A wine cellar.”
“Be more specific.”
“An abandoned mansion.”
“Hmmm. You have answers for me now. Why?”
“I need to talk to Sherman. He can help us.”
“Help you kill Benny?”
“Maybe.”
“There is no maybe to that. You do understand, right?”
“Yes.”
And then, he caught me by surprise again. “I’ve been reading Benny’s journals.”
“What? Where the hell did you get them from?”
“Long story. I’ll tell you the next time I see you.”
“Chase, I need you to let me talk to Sherman as soon as possible. Is he around you?”