Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 159208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
“Did you get that or do you need to write it down?”
“Got it. I’m not a moron. I’ll remember,” she mutters, walking out the door.
Goddammit.
So much for the cease-fire.
I’m starting to think my failure with Wyatt brought her into my life. I’m not a particularly religious man and I don’t put much stock in that old saying about God giving his biggest battles to his strongest warriors.
There’s something painfully ironic there, though.
Because I couldn’t move one mountain of a man, now I’ve got a stone-cold second peak to deal with. And unlike Wyatt, Miss Poe has the pedigree to make my life a frozen hell.
5
Nameless Here (Dakota)
One week.
I’ve survived more than one freaking week working for Lincoln effing Burns and I’m ready to live up to my namesake and bury all six-foot something of him under the floorboards.
Except, unlike the crazy in “The Tell-Tale Heart,” if I hear his dead heart beating in my head, I just might relish the thought. Because I’ll know that I was the one who sent him to hell.
Also, that first 'flawless' bit of copy must’ve been a fluke.
Ever since our little heart-to-heart in his office, I’m working twelve hours a day and he still marks the hell out of every line of copy I submit.
Some of the things he marks are ridiculous, too.
Honest to God, he actually complained about my margins last time.
The worst part is, some of his suggestions are actually good.
It isn’t fair. No Neanderthal decked out in Gucci should ever give a fair critique that makes me leave teeth marks in my pen.
The bosshole drives me crazy, but he’s improving my writing...which makes it impossible to up and rage-quit this job. I promised myself I’d stick around for ninety days as much as I promised him.
I care too much about raising my game with words in the real world, where it counts.
You can get feedback from any fellow writer on the internet or a well-paid editor, but it doesn’t have the same punch as a single line of text that could cause a seven or eight figure difference in sales.
Still. I’d like to settle for punching him if I can’t go full Poe on his smug ass.
And since I can’t even have that, payback is coming this morning and you’d best believe I’m going to enjoy it.
“What can I get for you?” the barista asks.
“Two Regis rolls, a cinnamon latte, and a large coffee with one cream and six sugars.”
“That’s...a lot of sugar in the last one,” she says, raising a brow.
“I know. Major sweet tooth.”
“Gotcha. Can I get a name for your drinks?”
I smile. “Just go with Nevermore.”
I pay with the asshat’s bills, collect the cinnamon rolls, and move to the counter to wait for the drinks.
A guy sets two hot cups down less than five minutes later.
“Nevermore!” he calls.
“Here. Which one’s the latte?”
He points to the cup on the right.
“Awesome.” I reach over the counter and grab an empty cup. I pour the coffee with cream and sugar into a clean cup. “Can I borrow a marker?”
The guy reaches into a drawer and hands me a spare. I write Nevermore on the cup and draw a raven before I enjoy a nice swift bike ride to the office, delighting in the spring colors and slowly lifting gloom around the city.
He’s already in his office when I get to his floor, a workaholic silhouette that looks almost etched into the frosted glass.
Perfect. Maybe he’ll take his first sip while I’m still in the room.
I fight back a smile as I enter, and not very well. He notices.
“What’s put you in such a sunny mood today?” he asks, wearing his default grumpy frown.
“Am I in a good mood?” I ask like I’m not already dying of laughter inside.
“You are. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile unless you were insulting me.”
“Sorry. Just hungry. I got your breakfast.” I hand him the cup and white paper sack.
He looks at the items I just gave him and back at me slowly.
“Let me guess. You spit in my coffee?”
“No.” Only because I didn’t think about it. That’s not a bad plan for tomorrow.
“Are you sure? Miss Poe, if you’ve contaminated my coffee in any way, rest assured I will chuck your ass out the door. No matter how talented you are.”
He waits like he’s expecting me to fall to my knees with some tearful confession.
“It’s everything you asked for. Nothing less,” I say with a nod.
There isn’t much reason I need to be standing here. I should probably leave, but I keep hoping he’ll take a drink. Plus, the odds that I could get fired after he practically begged me for three months make things interesting, I guess.
He rips his desk drawer open in a huff and drops the paper sack inside.
Hmm. Saving it for later?