Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
I nudged Holden’s elbow when he joined me at the sink. “That’s good news for you, huh?”
“Yes, it’s a nice reprieve.” He picked up a dish towel and motioned for me to pass the bowl I’d just rinsed. “What are you doing today?”
“I have to study. You?”
“Nothing overly pressing. I have some grading to do, but…I could help you,” he offered.
I narrowed my gaze. “Help me study? You’re my biggest distraction, dude. I don’t think that’ll work.”
He snickered gleefully as he stacked clean plates. “But I’m a professional when it comes to studying. I can quiz you on lawyerly things and provide incentives…if you get the answers right.”
“Like reverse strip poker. Ahh, so you really are a genius,” I drawled. “I’m in.”
We left the kitchen separately, waiting a respectable ten minutes before reconvening in my room with the door open…just in case anyone wondered what the hell we were up to. They didn’t. In fact, we had the house to ourselves within the hour. I’d like to claim that we shoved the books aside and dove for each other, but we actually studied.
Holden read from the slew of sample multiple choice questions that gave scenarios like: A man and his drunk friend break into a home and steal jewelry. Is the drunk man guilty of the crime or can we use intoxication as a defense? Or a writer sends a synopsis for a new TV program to a producer who uses key ideas without consent or a contract in place. When the writer sues, what is the likely ruling of the court?
I’d gone over many prep questions and studied so often that time was beginning to blur for me. But sitting cross-legged on my bed with Holden quizzing me on legalese with a faux-English accent was a new one. It was sweet and goofy, and kind of…boyfriend-y. In a noncommittal way. It was nice to just be myself and know that the person I wanted to be with most was rooting for me.
It made me feel invincible.
Passing the bar? No problem.
Okay, not quite.
The bar exam sucked my soul out over a two-day period that began with appetite loss and visible jitters and ended with extreme exhaustion and a strong desire to get drunk. I thought I did all right, but the results wouldn’t get posted until November. Basically, I was in a state of prolonged purgatory. So…yeah, alcohol sounded good.
“Cheers!” Blake lifted his shot of tequila in a toast. “To Ezra and Cole. Congrats on surviving law school and the bar. We’ve got ourselves a couple of lawyers in the house!”
“Anybody know any good lawyer jokes?” someone called.
Damian, a forward from our rec league lacrosse team raised his hand. “How many lawyers does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Any guesses? Okay…the answer is three. One to climb the ladder, one to shake it, and one to sue the ladder company.”
Our friends erupted in laughter when Cole and I flipped them off.
“Bottoms up, boys!”
I slugged my tequila, wincing at the immediate burn in my throat. I hadn’t had anything stronger than beer in ages. I slid the empty glass toward the bartender and cast a quick glance at the group of college friends and lacrosse teammates Blake had pulled together for a surprise celebration. There were at least ten guys crowded into our section of the upscale Pasadena bar. Some I’d known since freshman year in the dorms.
A few brought their significant others. I spotted Beth chatting with a pretty blond in the corner, and Blake had his fingers in Asher’s belt loops. Ash was deep in conversation with my buddy Brian about an upcoming Star Wars series. I thought about adding my two cents, but I’d done my share of mingling, goofing around, and reminiscing with old friends, and I was ready to go home.
That wasn’t like me. At all. I was the one who flirted with all the girls, organized impromptu games of pool, and took great pride in being the last one standing. Not tonight.
I pulled my phone from my pocket to check the time and okay…to reread the messages Holden had sent intermittently yesterday and today.
Break a leg! Best wishes! Knock ’em dead!
You’ll be amazing. You were made for this!
May the force be with you. Successfully pull off the heist!
A slow smile spread across my face. Only Holden. I wished he were here.
“Put your cell away before I drop it in a pitcher of beer,” Blake griped without heat. “I still owe you for that one, by the way.”
I snorted. “Hold a grudge much? We were eighteen, Blakey. Time to let that one go.”
“Yeah, yeah. It was more that you tried to convince me that drying it in sand worked better than rice.”
Asher’s ears perked up. “Sand? Oh, that’s very bad. All sand has a salt component that may corrode the internal functionality of a cellular device.”