Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 83990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“At home,” she says, “we need to talk.” I don’t bother answering her; I just nod my head and look out the window. They say traffic is bad in New York, but they lied. Nothing is worse than sitting in the car on I-110 in Los Angeles for hours while people get to their destination. I watch as the cars get fewer and fewer and the houses get bigger and bigger.
When we pull up to the large gate at the entrance of the community, Cori reaches in her purse to push the opener, and the gates swing open on both sides. He drives down the road, and each house has another gate. When I see the wall to my house and the gate open, I’m happy. He parks in the circle driveway, and I look up at my two-story white house with black roof, doors, and window shutters.
I walk up the white marble steps and press in the code to unlock the big black doors. It opens into the grand foyer with a floor of cream-colored marble. The rounding staircase has black iron railings on each side leading upstairs. All you see when you walk into the house are the stairs on both sides, the high ceilings, and the living room right in front of the door.
Making my way into the house, I drop my purse on one of the tables set up against the railing flanked by plush gray single chairs. “I’m starving.” I hear the door close behind me and walk down two steps into the living room until my feet sink into the cream and black plush carpet. The custom oversized beige couches are right in the middle, and a glass coffee table sits between them with a small square box of roses in the middle. On top of the fireplace mantel is where I keep the Oscar, the Grammy, the Tony, and the daytime Emmy. Only a few elite people can boast the EGOT title, and I have to pinch myself that I am in that category. It’s surreal to me when I sit down and stare up at them with my name engraved on them.
Looking at the picture of that moment on the wall on the way to the kitchen, I was so young and green. My gold dress felt like a prom dress, and I had my hair set up with ringlets coming down. It was the best night of my life, or at least I thought it was. That performance on stage got me a call from the casting director who was doing a play, and it was just one win after another. The biggest win was winning best original song at the Oscars this year. It was the win that put me on the EGOT list. Me, a little country girl who just wanted to get married and have kids. When you asked me in school, that would always be my answer. I want to be a mom, and now I have five houses all around the world. A penthouse in New York, the LA mansion I’m currently standing in, a chateau in Paris, a villa in Italy, and my favorite one, the ranch in Montana.
I walk into the dining room with a black marble table and eight big white captain chairs. Three white orchids decorate the table. Around the corner, I walk into my industrial-size kitchen. I didn’t care how the rest of the house was, but I needed a big kitchen because when I have time, I cook for myself. Walking over to the oversized stainless-steel Sub-Zero fridge, I open it and see that Cori has arranged for us to have food today. I grab the platters and put them on the huge island in the middle of the room. The cabinets are all white, but the countertops are a dark gray. I peel off the cover of the platter and see that it’s grilled chicken with grilled vegetables. Turning around, I set the oven and place the food inside. “So,” Cori says, grabbing a stool and sitting down. I look over at her, the sun from outside streaming into the huge bay windows. A round gray table in the middle holds a huge vase and three balls of roses. “Are we discussing that tall drink of milk who walked into the room?”
Taking a sip of water, I say, “Nothing really to tell.” I wave my hand, trying to brush it off, but I know she can read right through me. When I look at her, she is leaning on the island on her elbows with her hands folded in front of her. “Fine.” I shrug. “Remember when I was dating Steve?”
“The bartender?” she asks.
“Yes.” Nodding at her, I continue, “And I had to sneak in to see him.”
“Wait, is he the one who smuggled you in a crate?” Slapping her hand on the island, she starts laughing.