Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
“Oh my God, Jess! I’m so happy for you.” After banding her arms around my back, she squeezes the living beejeebers out of me. “When did you find out?”
I wait for her to inch back before filling her in. “Yesterday. Jack offered it to me after his meeting with Slade. He’s being bumped to politics, and I’m moving to editorials.” Writing when angry seems to be the solution for writer’s block. I was so mad I punished my keyboard for hours after Caleb left. Supposedly, the end product was a riveting story that captured generations of grief and anger. Jack was so impressed he promised to feature my story in one of his more prominent newsletters before offering me a promotion. Since it would have required me to move to New York, I accepted a less glamorous position to stay close to home.
Seattle is Portland, but since it is where Caleb and Octavia live, it is my home.
Octavia sounds pleased while asking, “Slade is staying with Seattle Socialites?”
Dollar signs flash in front of my eyes as I nod. “If rumors about his new offer are true, he won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.”
My confession only keeps Octavia’s mind occupied for thirty seconds. “Although I really want to celebrate your new gig, I don’t think we should do that at the gala. Both Caleb and Jack will be there, and I’m not in the right frame of mind to tackle either of them right now.” Her huff ruffles the hairs on the back of my neck. “He instigated Thick Thighs Thursday, then didn’t even bother to show up.”
“Tell me about it.” I try to remove the riled expression off my face before spinning around to face her. I realize it was a woeful waste of time when her eyes float across my face to categorize every new frown line Caleb is responsible for. “He is one of the reasons I want to attend the gala.” I take a quick breath before confessing, “You know that special guest Jack had that he wanted Caleb to show around?” I wait for her to acknowledge my question before pushing out, “She’s a girl. An attractive, mid-twenties, New York native with glossy hair and a flawless face.” Even aware I’m opening the floodway, I add, “And if that isn’t bad enough, he is accompanying her to the gala tonight.” This hurt to say, “As her date. He isn’t on the job tonight. He told me so himself.”
The remorse in Octavia’s tone is genuine when she replies, “Oh, Jess, I’m so sorry.”
Since she isn’t the Henslee who needs to apologize, I say, “So that’s why we’re going to the gala, getting rip-roaring drunk, and pimping ourselves out at the fancy-schmancy auction.”
Octavia’s head slants. “Hold on, what?”
“The bachelorette auction Elaine organized,” I inform, shocked she missed the gossip around the water cooler all week. “How do you not know about this?” When she shrugs, I guide her to the bed and force her to sit on the end. “Any single ladies attending tonight’s event can offer themselves up for auction. It is strictly PG13. Lunch dates only and under supervision, of course, but all funds raised go to Jack’s charity.”
“Jack’s charity? Tonight’s gala is for Jack’s charity?”
I look at her like she has a few screws loose. “I thought you knew all of this.” Certain she missed most of the rumors about her and her hotshot boss, I mutter under my breath, “I guess there isn’t much time for chit-chat when you have fucking to do.” I return to her closet as determined as ever to cause a ruckus. “But since Mr. Cranky Pants put a stop to that, you have no reason not to throw out some feelers tonight. We’re both single and ready to mingle. We just need the naughtiest dress in Seattle to make them regret their idiocy.”
I expect Octavia to continue with her good-girl ruse. It’s how she handles most situations—Ronnie included—so you can picture my shock when she instructs, “Dig in the back. That’s where I keep all my slutty dresses.”
An hour later, we step out of a stinky cab in front of the Seattle Center looking fabulous in skin-tight dresses, blown-out hair, and makeup that is both risqué and discreet.
“Are we late?” Octavia asks when the headcount inside the venue far exceeds the people milling outside.
I tug on the hem of my skirt to make sure my panties aren’t showing, popping threads when my eyes lock in on Caleb exiting the venue. He’s wearing a pricy-looking suit and has mixed things up by adding some product to his usually flat hair. “I’d say we’re right on time.”
Octavia doesn’t notice Caleb hanging at the side. Her eyes immediately hone in on Jack, who is exiting a stretched limousine in a crisp black tuxedo.