Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Okay, fine. It wasn’t so much an art studio as a shitty-ass garage behind my landlord’s house. Well, half of a garage anyway. The other half was a shrine to Neil’s 1956 Ford Fairlane Sunliner convertible that was shrouded in a pristine hot pink cover underneath an additional protective layer of thick canvas dust blanket. I hadn’t seen the car itself in five years despite it being the reason I’d met the guy in the first place. I knew how to source old car parts. It was one of my many underappreciated talents.
“Put that crap down. Can’t you see I’m in crisis?” Ava said before flopping dramatically in the overstuffed and over-duct-taped recliner in the corner.
I wiped my sweaty forehead on my shoulder. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of making an angsty octopus?”
“Mal, this is serious. I need some help.”
I finally got the spring threaded through the tiny metal ring I’d welded to the saw blade earlier this afternoon. It still needed something… I wasn’t sure what… but it could wait. I knew from experience that an Ava crisis meant the end of my focused creativity for the night.
I sighed and climbed down from the ladder, careful not to catch my work coveralls on the sharp edge of the barrel sponge I’d fashioned out of an old Stromberg carburetor. After I finished the octopus, I had plans to start working on the fish. The giant reef piece had originally been commissioned for the lobby of the Auto Club Speedway in San Bernardino, but they’d had a change of heart when one of their marketing directors claimed that lobby “real estate” was too valuable for an art piece and needed to be used for sponsorship displays.
I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do with a twelve-foot-square reef sculpture made from auto parts, but it wasn’t in my nature to leave a piece unfinished. Just like it wasn’t in Ava’s nature to knock before entering a premises in a snit.
“Spill.” I walked over to the shop sink and washed my hands, fully expecting her to tell me more about the workplace drama at the day spa where she worked. Those ladies were both terrifying and incredibly fascinating from a sociological and entertainment perspective. I kind of wanted an update on the whole “Kolby broke up with Logan and asked out his sister” drama from last week.
“I’m pregnant.”
I tilted my head like a dog who wasn’t sure what that sound was. “Say again?” As far as I knew, my best friend hadn’t gotten a hot beef injection since the Halloween party at Tori and Jen’s house last year. The one where everyone but me seemed to have gotten spooky action.
“Don’t make me repeat it. Here.” Her hand shot out and damned near impaled me with a white plastic stick. The minute my brain realized what it was, I jumped back and shrieked, proving Ava may not have been quite the biggest drama queen in this relationship.
“Get it away from me!” I flapped my hands wildly. “Ew. Ewwww. Gross. Why? Why would you…” The reality of what she was saying sank in. “But… but you have the Licking next week.”
She looked at me like I was crazy, which was pretty funny since she was the one from a place that had such an event. I was from a place that had a much more respectable event called the Homer Harvest Festival. It was different.
“It’s called the Lickin’, and don’t you think I know that? Brooks Goddamned Johnson is coming, and supposedly, he’s bringing a boyfriend. I’ll be damned if he’s going to make me look bad again in front of the entire effin’ town. It was hard enough when he dumped me with that bullshit ‘gay’ business after we were crowned—”
I cut her off. I could not, would not, listen to any more wailing about the Great Dumping that had happened ten years ago, crushing her plans for being Mrs. Perfect Small-Town Wife and leading her down the path of ruin. At least, according to her mother and all the other biddies in the Thicket.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But back to this baby thing. What… I mean who… who did you sleep with? What the fuck? I thought you were on the pill.”
I’ll admit I knew too much about her uterus, but we’d been each other’s everything for a good seven years. She also knew too much about certain pierced parts of my own private anatomy. And if that was because I was a crybaby around piercing and tattoo needles, well, that wasn’t anyone else’s business.
Except for Ava’s. Of course.
“I don’t remember his name. It was… um…” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Don’t judge.”
I rolled mine. “As if.”
“You’re judging me already.”
Duh.
I squeezed into the big recliner next to her since we were both small enough to share. Ava’s head landed on my shoulder. “Just tell me. You know you’re going to anyway.”