Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
"What's it all about?"
"A woman on a quest. But it isn't about her goal, per se. It is about the journey itself, how she changes, who she meets along the way."
"Does she get to her goal?"
A little snort escaped me at that. "I don't know."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean the author died before he finished the final book. And he didn't leave any outlines. He wasn't that kind of author. So no one knows what his plan was for the finale."
"That sucks."
"Yeah. And no. I think it kind of drives home the whole message of the series, don't you? That it is all about the journey. That nothing else really matters, nothing else is ever promised."
"Yeah, I guess. But how can you play a game that you can't win?"
"Well, the game varies a bit from the end of the books. There are hundreds of possible outcomes depending on what moves you make along the game. I've been playing since I was twelve, and I still haven't gotten all the possible outcomes. It is never predictable. And you can play the same way but make different choices depending on your maturity level, your age, your headspace that night you played. It's unpredictable, but comforting."
"I still can't fucking believe that family of yours."
"I became less shocked about it as I got older and realized how many scandals there were that got covered up. Before me, during my time at home, after I left. Someone is always fucking up. And someone else is always fixing it to protect the family name."
"So no one ever learns from their mistakes."
"Yeah, exactly," I agreed, nodding. "It really is a miracle that Jones has come out even halfway normal."
"What's with his hard feelings toward them? If he was the golden child?"
"The older he got, the more rebellious he got. I mean... Look at him," I said, shrugging. "And he got never-ending shit about it from our father who wanted Jones to grow up to be a little mini-me. And then one day, Jones came to me. I think he was sixteen, and asked me why I hated the family so much, what really happened all those years ago."
"He doesn't remember?"
'He was so little. And I think he probably focused a lot more on what was wrong with his father and grandfather, than what was going on with them treating me badly. But once he figured out the truth, I think he felt guilty. Because they'd manipulated him, because he lied for them and felt like he betrayed me. That's part of why he checks in on me a lot. He feels like he has to make up for how he thinks he fucked me over once upon a time. He wants to make a fortune, then set me up for life."
"Hey, if it's their money, that is kind of poetic in a way."
"Yeah," I agreed. "I should buy my father's old house and turn it into a cocaine recovery center," I mused, smiling at the idea.
"But only if you can see your grandmother's face when she finds out," Huck said.
"I like the way you think," I told him, smiling.
"So, when am I taking you to the dealership?"
"The dealership?" I repeated.
"To get you a bike," he clarified. "Now that we know they work, and can make your life a fuck of a lot easier."
"Well, I haven't even tried to drive it yet."
"Drive home," he said, shrugging.
"I think that might be a bit much. And I'm not really, you know, dressed for it. Spread eagle on a bike with a skirt on," I said.
"Alright. Well, we can try it out on the driveway sometime. It's not good that you can't get out of Dodge if shit ever hit the fan," he added, reminding me that while life did sort of go on, while we could go to my family's gathering, while we could even get a bite to eat in public, there were still threats around.
It didn't escape me that Huck had a gun in a holster on his ankle, that there was something in his pocket that might have been a knife of some kind.
There was someone that wanted to hurt them. And were willing to go through me to get to them.
"Tomorrow," I said, tone a lot more serious than it had been a moment ago.
He was right.
I needed a way to get myself around, especially in some sort of emergency-type situation.
"Still can't believe we ran into Teddy," Huck said, smiling.
"I can't believe he stayed friends with you after you stole his car. With him in it."
"I'm sure all the parties help," he said, smirking.
"There's that," I agreed. "They seemed like a good time. You know, until the last one came to a grinding halt because of me."
"Hey, just think, your seizure meant the house was empty when the drive-by happened," Huck said, tossing the plates up on the pizza pan, sliding out of the booth. "You probably saved some lives that night," he added as he stood, walking off to return the pan at the counter.