Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 124574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 623(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 623(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Second, I’m almost personally offended that you have no knowledge of the man, the myth, the legend and the only one who will own my heart. If you kick his ass, then you’ll break it. My heart, that is. And then I’d have to pay my hitman double.
And third, didn’t anyone tell you that texting and driving is illegal? I don’t know the laws in this undisclosed location, but the same sentiment must exist there. Please don’t do it again. You don’t want to be remembered as the only soldier whose demise was pinned on a cellular device and not an explosive one.
Actually, let’s just stay away from the explosive ones too.
Come back alive. I can’t promise the dress. Or anything, actually. But I can promise if you don’t, I’ll be very mad, and my wrath translates even beyond the grave. I’m like Jennifer Love Hewitt, with smaller boobs and a lesser penchant for boho.
Just so you know, and you can tell your friends this too, I’ll always be Lagerfeld’s girl.
No other man can steal my heart. Best tell your ‘fellas’ that before you die in vain.
L
From: thefallbackallblack@hotmail.com
To: lagerfeldsgirl@aol.com
Subject: Hitmen
Firstly, I’ll never tell you how I got this address. I don’t want you wasting money on a hitman. They’re hardly ever reliable anyway.
Plus, I’m a soldier, and a good one at that. Stealth and information acquirement are two of my many, many skills. I’ll need that, the basic skill of finding out a beautiful woman’s e-mail address when I finally get out of this fucking sandbox and into a city where marginally less people try to shoot me.
Near your neck of the woods, if I’m not mistaken?
A little town called Hollywood? Heard of it? Though I think the locals call it Los Angeles.
Setting up shop there after your country was finally smart enough to give me a visa. Good thing too, since I’ve saved its ass a couple of times. The country, not the visa.
But enough about me and my heroism.
Let’s talk about your boobs. Which are the perfect size, by the way.
Or how about what your favorite food is so I can fashion our date around it.
One day, that e-mail address is changing, and so is your loyalty for an old man who always seems to be wearing sunglasses (yes, I Googled him).
K
From: lagerfeldsgirl@aol.com
To: thefallbackallblack@hotmail.com
Subject: Re – Hitmen
Firstly, I don’t rightly need to order a hitman anyway. I can do my own dirty work. But I’d just had a manicure and didn’t want a pesky murder ruining it.
My hands had paused at this point, much as they had when I read the sentence about him moving a mere two hours from me. I’d known he was doing it, but this was right in front of me. In words. He was moving. To the City of Angels. And Devils. And everything in between. The place I’d been tossing up becoming another in between for years now. I hadn’t found whatever it was I needed to make the jump.
Courage, maybe.
Or a reason.
Rosie and I had always talked about leaving Amber together. In that sort of someday vibe where you considered such a thing as something to be done when you’re grown up. When your life got itself together.
Just at what point of adulthood were we considered “grown-ups?” ’Cause I sure as shit wasn’t one at almost twenty-seven. Sometimes I thought the reason I was so obsessed with clothes and shoes and bags was because I was playing pretend with them, playing the grown-up, because I was still that scared little girl.
I put my attention back on the e-mail.
You’re moving to Hollywood? To do security? Well I guess there’s enough boy bands with rabid fans who need protecting.
I would think a humble country boy such as yourself might want to head back to the Land of the Long White Cloud (I Googled that) and away from all the Americans.
Also, we will not be talking about my boobs. Don’t you know e-mail etiquette with a woman you are low-key stalking? Talk of such things is considered uncouth.
And I think that telling you my favorite food might foster some vain hope that you will find yourself with a date when you return.
You won’t. Well, not with me anyway.
I think it would be much better if you found another pen pal to send your endearing New Zealand slang to.
L
I shouldn’t have sent it. I should have deleted his e-mail after I’d read it. Problem was, even if I deleted it from the computer, it wouldn’t do much since I’d already committed it to memory. Then my fingers had worked without my brain’s consent and typed not only the reply, but hit the Send button too. That was on the first one. Then the second one came, and I found sense. Or lost it, I guessed, depending on who you spoke to. Some people would say telling an infuriating, handsome man who kissed like Channing Tatum danced and spoke in an accent was insane.