Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Marvelous. I have a hard enough time posting something every day on the Mother Goose Rescue accounts for our patrons and donors who love to see the animal’s progress. With everything else I need to do, I can now add this to my list. “With all due respect, I take care of close to twenty animals. I don’t have the time––”
“You’re responsible for him while he’s here,” she says, cutting me off. “So yes, essentially you’re his assistant and personal photographer. Take the video and photos and post them. That’s what we paid you to do.”
I was under the impression the money was a donation and not a payoff. Though, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. There’s a reason Jess calls her Cruella.
“I thought he was bringing an assistant with him?” Fingers crossed I missed something and this person is on his or her way.
“Aidan’s pared his life down. He’s back to basics, so he left the trappings of his fame in L.A.”
He’s living in a quarter-million-dollar trailer for the next three months, so forgive me if I call donkey dung on this one.
“Jules, heel. Stop harassing the ladies.” Aidan Hughes flashes his signature million-dollar grin at Mona. His beard parts, highlighting his perfect, optic-white teeth and the ability to disarm all the straight women of the free world without any effort whatsoever. “Pleasure. Aidan Hughes at your service, ma’am.”
“Trust me, the pleasure is all mine,” Mona returns, and I have to forcibly stop myself from rolling my eyes.
“I will post the damn vids,” he dismissively tells Jules with only a fleeting glance in her direction. “Now leave us. You’ve done enough.”
We’re fifteen minutes into a three-month sentence and I’m already exhausted.
“Please answer when I call,” she tells him. “Ojai PD will be here in less than ten if you decide this dust pit is not to your liking, so don’t even attempt it.”
“Isn’t that what Shane is here for?” he says and sighs.
The plot thickens. So his brother is here as a prison warden, not to provide security and moral support. Interesting…
“That, too,” she says, putting her large sunglasses back on. Then, without a gesture or a word of goodbye, she walks to the Range Rover with Jess following closely behind.
Aidan watches them all get in their respective cars and drive away. The mask slides off and the forlorn look on his face tells a completely different story than the unaffected one he tried to sell a few minutes ago.
“Well, it’s… uh… time for me to feed lunch,” I announce after clearing my throat. This entire situation is awkward. I don’t even know how to address him. He’s only two years older than me. Do I call him sir? Mr. Hughes? Aidan? One could argue I’m his boss, but why would one want to argue that? It would mean I make all the decisions, and that’s the last thing I want to do.
With all the emails I received, you would think I would remember to ask the simple question of what the heck to call him.
“What are we having?” Aidan asks, his voice weak, his gaze still trained on the cloud of dust the cars left in their wake.
“Not us. The animals need to eat. Some are on a medical diet since they were almost starved to death, so I feed them small meals throughout the day––”
“Tomorrow,” he says speaking over me. “You can tell me tomorrow. I’m tired. Gonna take a nap.”
Without a backward glance, he shuffles to the Airstream trailer and disappears inside.
Alrighty then. Good start.
“Hello, Blue Baldwin, this is your mother speaking,” comes out of the speakerphone. “Call me. I left two messages and haven’t heard back from you yet. I really need to speak to you.”
I hit pause.
“You can’t keep ignoring her,” Mona says and slides a roast beef sandwich with lettuce and tomato across the kitchen island to me.
“Watch me,” I say, taking a big bite. I make a big theatrical show of hitting erase on the voicemail and glance at the time on the microwave. The digital numbers flash twelve.
Wrapping up this working lunch, I finish posting today’s progress of the animals’ health on TikTok and Instagram. A cute picture of Big Ben and Coco grooming each other. Billy standing with his front feet on Venus’ hindquarters––one of the rescue horses we got from a horrible dude ranch––while she’s laying down sunbathing. And Milo, our only llama, peeking through the slats of his fence.
Our followers are generous people, loyal to the cause, who go above and beyond whenever we need financial help. Keeping them up to date on how their adopted children––because that’s what they feel like to most of us––are doing is a small price to pay.
“I almost forgot.” Mona grabs something out of a brown shopping bag and places it on the counter.