Total pages in book: 191
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
“The blonde the day of my party thing…?” he asked and glanced up at the ceiling, thoughtfully.
This fool had no idea who the hell I was talking about. Then he confirmed it by basically reading my mind.
“I don’t know who you’re talkin’ about,” he said after a moment, actually looking sheepish. “And no, no girlfriend. No nothin’. I don’t have time for that kind of commitment.”
I snorted. “’Have time,’ okay,” I said sarcastically.
His elbow nudged me, and he opened his mouth to tell me who knows what just as his phone started ringing. He pulled it out and read whatever was on the screen, cursing under his breath. Blue eyes flicked up to me right before he muttered, “It’s Trevor, my manager,” like I didn’t know who he was. “One second…. What’s up, Trev?.... He just called you?” Zac asked with a frown, making eye contact with me.
I smiled at him and turned toward the rows of canned beans a little down the aisle, keeping an ear out.
“No…. Yeah…. We’ll talk about it when I get back to the house in a minute I’m at the grocery store with Little Texas…. Little Texas…. Bianca. I introduced you to her when we did that commercial, ’member?.... No. What? Copyright infringement?” Zac blew out a breath, and I was pretty sure he rolled his eyes. “Who do you think came up with my nickname, Trev? She was always Little Texas; then she started callin’ me Big Texas.”
He pulled the phone away from his face, tapped something on the screen, and walked toward me, asking quietly, “Peewee, how old was I when you started callin’ me that?”
He knew I was eavesdropping, and later on it would make me laugh. I was holding two cans of black beans when I turned to him and said to Trevor, “I was eight. Zac started calling me Little Texas because I had this T-shirt I wore all the time with the Texas flag on it. For Christmas, I tried to draw a big Texas on a T-shirt for him, and that’s when I started calling him that.” I looked at Zac and raised my eyebrows. “Why? Do you guys want to start paying me past royalty money for coming up with his nickname?”
Zac tipped his face up toward the ceiling, and I had to pinch my nose when Trevor stuttered, “No. I was only asking. Zac, take me off speakerphone this second.”
“I was just kidding about the royalties.” I laughed, watching my old friend close his eyes as he kept cracking up too.
“Zac!” the manager hissed before getting cut off by Zac taking him off speakerphone.
But I could still hear Zac respond. “She was jokin’, Trev. It wasn’t like we ever made T-shirts with Big Texas on them.”
“But you should,” I called out to him before turning back toward the beans.
“Bianca just said we should. Maybe once I get on another team—”
Once he got on another team. I smiled at his optimism. I was glad he wasn’t back to being all “woes is me, I might have to retire.” I’d be glad if I never met that Zac again.
“Yeah, we’ll talk about that later…. No. I just don’t wanna talk about it now. You want somethin’ from the store?” Zac picked up another package of pasta and dumped it into his cart.
Zac spoke into his phone for another minute or two.
I wondered what his manager wanted to talk about and why Zac didn’t want to bring it up in front of me.
And I didn’t let myself be disappointed when he immediately asked me if I had The Lazy Baker T-shirts.
I didn’t.
He asked me why not, and I told him why—because I hadn’t thought about it.
He didn’t bring up anything else about his phone call with Trevor for the rest of our shopping trip or the journey home.
Boogie was his best friend, not me.
And that was fine.
I just couldn’t let myself forget it.
Chapter Eleven
“Yeah, he’s puking again,” my sister Connie said into the phone as I finished putting my groceries up about a week later.
I made a face at myself as I elbowed the refrigerator door closed.
“Oh shit, he got some on his shoes. Gross! B, I’ve gotta call you back! I’m sorry!”
“No, don’t be sorry. Hope he feels better! Tell him I love him!” I called into the receiver as I heard my nephew, Guillermo, retching in the background at the gas station they had stopped at.
“K, bye,” Connie said before instantly hanging up.
My poor nephew. Apparently, Luisa, my niece, had been saying since the day before that she wasn’t feeling well. My nephew had claimed he was feeling fine, but an hour into Guillermo and Connie’s trip down from Killeen to spend the weekend with me, it had gone downhill real quick. Yermo started blowing chunks on the side of the road, and then he’d blown some more chunks at the gas station they stopped at. Apparently, Richard, my sister’s husband, had called to tell her that Luisa had started projectile vomiting too. So of course, they were turning around and going back home.