Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24719 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24719 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
“There’s no way this party can help these kids, Margaret,” I growl, still feeling raw.
“What? Of course it does. Did you not see the smiles on their faces today? It takes a lot to get these children to smile, Eb and you did that today.”
“Not all of them,” I grumble, the last boy’s face still fresh in my mind.
“Unfortunately no. You’re right, but you made a lot of them smile and that’s a small victory and the money will help to make the parents lives a little easier. That’s all we can do.”
“More needs to be done,” I grumble.
“Juniper is a small suburb. Our hospital has limited funds as it is. Most of these kids need advanced care, Eb. But, the sad fact is, a lot of the parents can’t afford to travel to the bigger facilities as often as would be necessary. We do the best to fill the gaps,” she says a little sadly.
“Money. It all boils down to money,” I sigh.
“It always does. But, you should take comfort in the fact that because of your time tonight, quite a few kids here had one of the best nights they’ve ever had,” she says like that’s a big thing. I frown as she walks away. There’s little solace in that, there has to be something more.
Before I can think on it more, I see my agent, Loretta, walk in the room and she’s not happy. She’s not happy any time actually, but right now the anger she normally carries around like other women carries purses, radiates from her.
Fuck. She must have gotten my email yesterday and drove straight here. I head to her in resignation.
This day just keeps getting better and better.
Chapter 20
Eb
“Loretta what are you doing here?” I ask, trying to keep my tone civil. Really, she’s a great agent, but I don’t appreciate being hunted down. I sent her an email telling her that I had some issues and I wouldn’t be able to get the manuscript in by the deadline and to ask for an extension. It’s unusual for me, I’ll give her that, but still writers do it every single day. It doesn’t require a visit to be raked across hot coals. Which, from the look in her eye, is exactly what she has planned.
“Get out of my way fat guy, I’m on a mission,” she grumbles and that’s just like her going a million miles a minute, full steam, and failing to recognize what’s right in front of her. Even if she didn’t recognize my voice, she should at the very least recognize my face now that I’ve had the beard pulled down.
“Loretta, it’s me,” I explain, reaching up and snatching the hat and wig from my head.
She stops. Her shrewd eyes appraise me and I barely resist the urge to shuffle my feet underneath the attention. Loretta would have made a good interrogator during times of war.
“E. B.? What the fuck are you doing?” she growls, and calling me by my pen name. She refuses to use my real one. It’s never really bothered me, but for some reason her sharp voice and the way she uses it now… does.
“What are you doing? I told you in my email I’d be in touch in a few days.”
“And that’s why I’m here. What the fuck are you doing dressed as a pervert. Is this shit why you are late on your manuscript.”
“It’s a Santa Claus suit,” I growl.
“Same fucking thing. Who got it in their head one day and said: Gee, I’m going to dress up in a red velvet suit and look like some little girl’s grandpa and then ask her to sit and wiggle around in my lap and ask her what she wants me to give her for Christmas?”
“Loretta,” I caution her, my voice full of warning.
“A fucking pedophile. That’s who. What the hell are you doing here anyway? You hate this Christmas bullshit as much as I do, E.B. That’s always been one of the beautiful things about this relationship.”
That’s when I look around the room in a panic. I don’t see Joy anywhere and hopefully that means she hasn’t heard Loretta, which is a miracle since she is being loud and annoying. I grab her hand and literally pull her with me. She jerks her hand away, but she follows.
“Margaret, I need to use your office to meet with my agent,” I tell Margaret as we pass. She agrees, her face troubled, which means she probably heard Loretta. I notice she looks at Loretta with dislike and that would fit. Loretta has a tendency to make “friends” everywhere she goes.
I get Loretta inside, turn on the light and close the door.
“Now, what in the hell are you doing here?”
Loretta walks to the desk and sits down, crossing her legs and taking off the black leather gloves she’s wearing. She pulls a cigarette out of a small purse she is packing and after taking a puff of it, looks at me.