Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 34938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
I'm going to prove him wrong. Make him eat his words.
I see my exit up ahead and merge over. I follow the long winding exit and end up on a road with palm trees towering on each side. I roll down my window and take deep breaths of the sea air as I drive closer to the ocean. My father just purchased this little beach house in Florida a few months back. The house needed some major renovations, but luckily he timed it just right, and it was ready in time for peak tourist season. It rented immediately.
Sticking my hand out the window, I let it ride the wind up and down like a roller coaster. I'm happy, I feel good. I know what I'm doing, I have no doubt this is going to be easy. A single tenant. A practically new house after the renovations. I mean, really, what can go wrong? Once my father sees I can handle myself, I'm hoping he’ll finally loosen the reigns and let me become a regular part of his rental properties business.
He can't do this forever, eventually he's going to retire, and my older step-sister and step-brother have their own lives. They’re not interested in taking over his business. He's going to need someone to take charge, and I’m going to show him that I’m the best one to carry on the family business. I’m ready.
Coming around another bend, I see something in the middle of the road, and I slam on my brakes. The tires screech, and I squeeze the steering wheel as the car jerks to a stop and my body jolts forward slightly.
The little lump I saw in the middle of the road is a tiny kitten. The poor thing is trying to crawl, but its back legs don't seem to be strong enough. The pain and fear are apparent in its tiny face. I can tell its crying, but it's so soft, its tiny meows aren't audible over the sound of the engine. My heart breaks seeing it, terrified and straining to move. I throw my car in park and jump out of the car. I drop down next to the cat and start looking it over to see if it’s injured. I don’t want to lift it and cause any further harm, but I can’t tell what’s wrong with it.
Honk! Honk!
Whipping my head to look over my shoulder, there's a car behind mine, and the driver is laying on the horn and throwing his arms up, shouting at me by the look of his contorted face, although I can’t hear him over the blaring horn.
“Go around!” I yell, throwing my arm out and showing him the empty lane where he can pass.
He gives me a dirty look and the finger as he speeds around my car.
Dick.
Giving him the finger back, I bend down. Scooping the kitten up in my hands, it's so small, so tiny. I can feel every rib and it’s quivering in my hands. If I hadn’t stopped to help it, it wouldn’t have made it in the middle of the road for another ten minutes. Pulling it into my chest, I walk back to my car, and drop into the front seat.
I set the kitten in my lap and it curls up into a ball, resting its little head on my thigh. I can almost see a sense of relief come over the tiny cat as it relaxes, and it stops quivering so violently. I move my car out of the road, and into the breakdown lane. I open up the internet browser on my phone and search for the closest vet. It's only a few miles away. I should have plenty of time to get there, make sure the kitten is checked in, and then make it to the rental property before the new tenant arrives.
As I drive I keep one hand on the kitten, feeling its little breaths. The longer I drive, the less it shakes, until it finally dozes off. The drive to the vet doesn’t take long, and when I arrive, there isn’t anyone in the waiting room. But I have to leave my credit card information for the cat’s care, and it takes me a lot longer than I expected. There's paperwork, and then questions, and they just won't let me leave.
They're going to keep the kitten over night to check it out to see what's going on with its back legs. I leave my name and number so they can call me and let me know how he’s doing. Turns out it's a boy, and he's not much older than two to three months.
Once I get to my car, I pull out my phone and check the time. I’ll barely make it to the house before the tenant. I peel out of the vet’s parking lot with a screech, and take that picturesque road back in the direction I just came from, breaking several speeding and traffic laws. I squint out the window when I pull up to the street, trying to make out the house numbers in the glaring afternoon sun.