Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
To take photos of people at a public forum in front of a local hospital, expressing their rage about sky-high hospital bills, had been her first assignment of the day. She’d shown up and stood among the local news station crews. Not super exciting stuff—more like grunt work, the sort of thing she used to do as an intern.
The humiliation didn’t stop there, though. She was expected to snap photos of people taking part in a water drinking contest, to see if they could guess the brand. Her hands shaking, she took shots of a bunch of people sitting behind a long, school cafeteria style table, small shot glasses lined in front of them, and silly suspenseful music playing, as if their answers were a matter of life or death.
I have stooped to an all-time low. If I’m going to be doing grunt work, it could at least be entertaining. Like the nude parade of people who believe themselves to be worms, so they got down on kneepads, wore helmets, and pushed their bellies against skateboards then wiggled down the street to the tune of ‘Funky Worm,’ by The Ohio Players. One guy was definitely a true inchworm… Okay, on second thought, maybe I don’t want that assignment either, but hell, this is a nightmare, a terrible punishment, and I know who’s really behind it.
She can’t fire me without a legal fight, so she is doing this sort of thing to break me and force me out. But I can’t be broken. I’m iron and steel…
Next, they’ll have me over somewhere taking pictures of paint drying. All the colors of the rainbow, and call it a ROYGBIV—an anti-discrimination piece. I hate these people.
She grabbed a crinkled brown bag from her bed, pulled out a miniature bottle of liquor, and downed the contents.
I should call someone and talk out my feelings… That’s stupid though. That’s not even like me. Talking won’t change shit.
She shrugged as she argued with herself.
Most of my friends are journalists. I don’t want to risk it getting back to Teresa that I’m down and out, depressed as hell. I could call my mother, but I don’t want to complain… have her panic thinking her black sheep daughter finally got her shit together, and now it’s all about to be ruined.
She stood and made her way to the hotel patio window, pushing open the blinds to take a peek at the scenery. The lights glimmered, and the mountains in the distance looked like sky-high kingdoms fit for a princess.
Standing there in her midriff length white tank top and matching panties, she studied her reflection blending in with the backdrop of nightlife. She was a tawny complexioned woman with long, shapely legs from years of tennis. Her Brazilian blown out dark brown tresses hit the middle of her back. During periods of stress, she found herself curling the ends with her fingers, a habit her stylists wished she’d break. She crossed her ankles, leaned against the side of the sliding glass doors, and sipped on her liquor bottle like a lady. Tiny sips now…
I’m too angry and miserable to go do anything tonight but curse someone out and be bad company, but maybe I should go for a ride or do something solo. I could sit and wallow, but really that’s not my style, either. This is so uncomfortable, being cooped up like this, only leaving to do these shitty assignments. I’m trying to make the best out of a bad situation. I mean, I’ve been here a whole week and it’s been one shit assignment after another.
I’m not sitting on my hands though. Getting legal representation is a must.
I know that pissed Teresa off to no end.
She grinned from ear to ear as she imagined that evil woman’s face once she found out she’d gotten an awesome attorney who was officially on standby should the verdict not be to Honey’s liking.
Yeah, bitch. I meant what I said: I’d be lawyering up. This isn’t just business—that, I could accept. No, you made this personal.
Regardless, it is what it is. All I can do now is ride around for a bit, clear my head and get some fresh air. I’ve been here all this time and have barely checked out the city. Thankfully I didn’t polish off this nip-sized Bacardi. I ain’t trying to be behind the wheel drinking and driving. A DUI is not cute, and it’s not what I’m trying to get out here in damn Denver, Colorado to make things all the worse for me.
She placed her unfinished drink on a nearby table, closed the balcony doors, put down the blinds, then went to freshen up in the bathroom to the tune of Chaka Khan’s, ‘What Cha’ Gonna Do For Me.’ She slipped on a pair of black leggings, a long sleeved black Adidas shirt, and her black Reebok sneakers. Standing in front of the mirror, she formed a long braid of her hair down her back, securing it with a dark red scrunchie. She rummaged through her equipment, selected a camera and corresponding gear, just in case she came across something worth immortalizing, and left her hotel room, jacket in hand, headed to her rental car.