Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
One day…
JETT
Beverly Hills, CA
I’m fucking tired. My legs feel like I’m running with weights. Christ, I’m literally dragging my ass up my driveway, and I don’t have the excuse of being hungover this time. I even went to bed early last night.
I’ll have Rebecca schedule Sam to come to the office today and give me another B12 shot. I need something to get me going.
My mind goes over the ton of work piling up on my desk, which is making me angry, mostly at myself. Although, I did go off yesterday on a random delivery guy. Yeah, he fucked up, but he’s a fucking delivery guy making fifteen bucks an hour and didn’t deserve that type of treatment.
Poor Rebecca tries to humor me. My colleagues are avoiding me. I overheard Tim calling me the Grim Reaper. Fuck it—it’s true. I’m not a pleasant person. I should buy the whole office lunch today.
“Jett?” Rachel’s voice makes me grit my teeth when I enter from the front door. Ever since Raven left, I’ve avoided the backyard and, therefore, the back entrance. I run my hand through my hair. Christ, I’m drenched.
“Yeah, it’s me.” Feeling the cool air from the AC as I make my way to the kitchen, I contemplate taking a shower. Rachel just got home from her trip to Atlanta, though, so I guess I need to at least pretend to be interested.
Home.
What a joke. It’s felt more like a prison lately. I’m tempted to sell it and start over. Too much shit I’d like to forget.
When I enter, my eyes take in Rachel’s tight dress and heels. She smiles at me. The table is loaded with what looks to be Danishes, bagels, and fruit.
“Surprise.” She walks up to me and runs her hands up and down my wet T-shirt. “Oh, sweaty.”
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to have patience.
“Are you hungry? I had Patty create all this for you. I missed you.” She leans in for a kiss. I give her a quick one, then walk to the refrigerator.
“I should take a shower.” Opening the door to get some orange juice, I wonder if I’m getting sick. Nah, I never get sick.
“How was Atlanta?” Shaking the bottle of fresh-squeezed OJ, I don’t even bother with a glass.
“It was Arizona,” she corrects me.
I stop drinking the juice to look at her. “Right, Arizona. I knew it started with an A.” Grinning, I put the lid back on the juice and shut the refrigerator.
Rachel’s eyes narrow on me and we stare at each other. I almost use the excuse of needing a shower again because this is so fucking uncomfortable.
Yet I don’t. Instead, I sit and grab a piece of pineapple.
“So was Arizona hot?”
She clears her throat and sits herself. “It was one-hundred and twelve the whole week.”
I nod, not caring. “And Courtney? She seems to be everywhere lately. I keep hearing her latest song on the radio.” I heard it once, but whatever.
“Thanks to me. I told her this album was going to be the one.”
She grabs the spoon and scoops up some fruit, then picks up her fork to eat it. I guess my picking at it with my fingers is beneath her.
“Well, this is what you are the best at,” I say.
“It really is. She’s the voice, but without me, she’d be nothing,” she snips, cutting a piece of watermelon.
What am I doing? Am I really sitting here, trying to keep a conversation going with a person I can’t stand, talking about things I don’t care about?
Seriously, what the fuck am I doing?
I can’t stand her.
My job, which I have always loved, has suddenly gone stale. And I hate myself for hurting the one person who actually made me feel something.
“Jett, did you hear me?” Rachel leans forward, reaching to touch my hand. I frown at her. “What?” She leans back.
“This, us, it’s over. You know that, right?” I stand.
“Excuse me?” She looks like I’ve slapped her, but it’s all a façade. Her eyes are dead. How am I just seeing this? Or maybe I always knew but didn’t care.
But today… today I care.
“I need to take care of something.” I go to move around her, but she grabs my arm as I pass.
“What has happened? Is this because your cock doesn’t work? We can work thr—”
“My cock works just fine, Rachel, but not with you.” I look down at her.
Standing, she turns to me. “What are you saying?”
“It’s pretty clear. It’s over, Rachel. Keep the ring.”
“I don’t accept this.” She straightens. “We have the Beverly Hills Hotel booked for four months from now. Three-hundred of the most influential people will watch me become your wife.”
“No, they won’t. We’re not getting married. It’s over, Rachel.” I begin walking up the stairs.
“You need to stop and think.” Her voice is low, almost menacing. “Because I have it all on my phone. That night I watched you make love to my daughter.” I stop and look down at her.