Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“He—”
“He’s a lot,” I tell her. “So, about you and Jeff. Care to tell me more?”
“Nope, that’s done. Time for me to move on. Oh, what’s that?” She catches sight of the dress, and her hands run along the silk skirt exactly as mine did only moments ago. “This is very pretty.”
“Thanks. Zuko is taking me to some party or something later.”
Her eyes do a quick scan over me. “Let’s put curlers in your hair and set them.”
“I can do my own hair,” I tell her. “Plus, the party isn’t until tonight.”
“Awesome. A mani-pedi is what we’ll do, then. Now, Zuko did say not to leave, but I saw a nail salon just down the road. Think he would mind?” She bites her lip at that question.
“Who cares if he does.” I give her an eye roll as I rise from the stool. “Let me get changed real quick. I could use a good pedicure.” I go to my room and slip on a maxi dress that hugs my breasts but flows down my body. After sliding on some sandals that will be easy for the pedicure, I walk out to see Louise typing away on her phone.
“Zuko said to stay in the house.” She pouts.
“He can go fuck himself.” I smile, grabbing my purse. “Let’s go.” I stroll to the door, but she doesn’t follow.
“He won’t…you know…hurt me, will he?” she asks worriedly.
“No,” I lie.
Well, I hope he won’t, but I don’t know for sure.
“Okay, good.” She grins and jumps up from the couch.
We step outside and decide it’s best to walk down to the salon. Louise fills me on the jobs she’s been searching for and skips all the parts about Jeff when I ask her how she’s been. I don’t push. I wouldn’t want to go into detail about fucking someone either if that someone was Jeff.
When we arrive at the salon, we sit down next to each other and are offered drinks. Louise holds up two fingers and tells them two wines. I don’t want to tell her that wine doesn’t mix well with my medication, but then I realize I never took any today, so it should be fine.
We order more wine and chat about nothing and everything. It’s nice to have a girlie conversation. I don’t make friends easily because other girls are either intimidated by me or jealous, but Louise is neither.
Just as our nails are drying, the door opens, and in walks Zuko. It’s amusing to me how all eyes go to him. He doesn’t seem to notice or care though, as he strides straight to where I am seated. He grabs the glass from my hand and pulls it away. His eyes are deadly as he grips hold of the stem, and I swear he is holding it so tightly that any minute it will break away from the glass.
“I thought…” He takes a deep breath. “Are you done?” he asks, clearly unamused and not happy with us. He hasn’t even peered at Louise because he’s completely fucked off right now.
“Almost. How do my nails look?” I ask him, holding out my hands.
He peers down at them. “Good! Now come on.”
I lift my toes. “How do they look?” I say, wiggling them.
“Good enough to eat.”
I hear someone sigh at his words but don’t check to see who. He pulls out a few hundred-dollar bills and pays the ladies who just did our nails.
“You need to tip,” I tell him. He pulls out another hundred and passes it to the lady, who gushes and smiles, thanking him over and over.
“You weren’t supposed to drink,” he reminds me, handing the glass to the lady, who can’t stop saying thank you to him.
“It was only one glass.”
“Trouble… I can see the empty glass next to you.”
“Okay, it was two. But technically, you took my third.” I bite my lip.
He offers me his hand, and I wave at my shoes. He bends and picks them up, sliding them on my feet one at a time, careful not to touch my polish as he does.
“Are you hungry?” he asks.
I look to Louise, who nods her head.
“We’re starving. Drinking and self-care can really take a lot out of a woman, you know.” I wink and then stand. He holds on to me, making sure a hand is touching me at all times.
Making our way down the street on foot, Louise follows close behind. When we enter a restaurant not too far away, he pulls out my chair, letting me sit, then pulls out the chair for Louise.
“I want a cocktail,” I announce.
“No!” He growls out the word succinctly as the waiter arrives at our table. He orders for the whole table, not giving us a chance to check over the menu.
“What if Louise is allergic to what you just ordered?” I sit back in my seat and study him.