Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“Yeah, buddy, we are.” I smile at him as the plane comes to a stop. I get up, grabbing Jack in my arms, and then bend to grab his bags of meds. I walk off the plane and climb in the waiting car, securing Jack in the seat. “Are you ready for our grand adventure?” I ask him, leaning over and kissing his cheek.
We finally make it to the front of the brownstone. All the houses lined up on the street are attached. All literally brown. Big bay windows on each side of the door. The only thing telling them apart is the different cast iron railings up to the front doors. And no two front doors are alike. I unbuckle Jack and walk up the steps as the driver follows with our bags. I take the key out of my pocket and unlock the door. “We’re home,” I tell him, and he smiles up at me. Both doors have windows on them, so you can see inside, but you don’t see much because of the white rounded door on the inside with stained windows.
I put Jack down, and we walk in together. I throw my keys on a mirrored table with fresh white roses in the middle. I step in, turning the brass rounded knobs, and we come face-to-face with a white staircase. The railing is a dark chestnut brown. The flooring is a dark glossy green almost black marble flooring. “What do you say, Jack? Want to walk around and see everything?” I ask, turning left and entering the living room.
My new jersey is hanging on the wall of the living room, and there is a basket of t-shirts and mini sticks. A big stuffed Stingers mascot holds the basket under his arm with a foam number one in the other hand. Inside the basket are Stingers blankets, sweaters, hoodies, hats, caps, key rings, cups, and a plastic goalie helmet. It looks like the store puked in the living room. “I think they left you presents,” I tell Jack, who runs to the basket and takes the sticks out while I grab the card. “Welcome to the Stingers. Jack!”
“I can play mini sticks?” he asks, and I look around the living room and take in all the valuables.
“Maybe when we move things around,” I tell him. “We need to move a lot of shit around,” I say under my breath. It looks like a magazine ad in here. I walk into the room, taking in the bay windows and all the white walls. One of the only pieces of color in the room is the huge deep brown U-shaped couch. There are a million throw pillows placed all over, but what gets me is the fireplace right in front of the couch. It’s old school, hand-carved in white marble, the old details from the past all engraved. A huge flat-screen television hangs above the fireplace. The table in the middle is black with nothing on it but the different remotes.
“We can totally do movie night in here,” Jack says, smiling at me as he goes to the couch and bounces on it. He leans over and grabs one of the five remotes on the table, pressing a button, and the shades for the bay window come down. He giggles, pressing the button up and down, and then his stomach growls.
“You hungry?” I ask him, walking back out, turning left, and heading down a narrow hallway. Different frames line the wall from top to bottom. Nothing personal—just landmarks from the Eiffel Tower to the Venice Canal to the Statue of Liberty. I try to stop and take it in, but Jack’s already at the end of the hallway in the huge kitchen.
The middle counter is all white and gray marble. Skylights let in more natural light. The range against the wall is black. White cabinets line two walls while a huge ass fridge is against the wall on the other side. One door is see-through, and you can see that it’s fully stocked. “What do you want to eat?” I ask him, opening the fridge and taking in the meals that have been prepared and brought in. “Oh, looks like spaghetti.”
The doorbell rings, and I look over at Jack. “That must be your new sitter.” I smile at him; the medical team in Arizona made some calls and got me the best live-in nurse in the city. We Skyped a couple of times, and Jack seemed to like her.
Walking to the door, I open it and see her. “Hey there.” I smile, moving back a bit so she can come in.
“Sorry, I’m a little early,” she says as she walks in. “I couldn’t wait to meet him.” She smiles at me; she is in her late twenties, comes highly recommended, and her references were amazing. I need someone here when I’m on the road or at the rink.