Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“I think my balls just crawled back into my body, and that look wasn’t even directed at me,” Noah murmurs from beside me as we watch Barbara turn and storm away. “If I were you, I wouldn’t drink or eat anything that anyone else, especially someone who is a female or an employee here, offers you,” he advises as he follows me into the elevator.
We make it down to the impound lot, where I fill out all the forms and show all my documents in order to get my car out. It takes about forty-five minutes, and the whole time we’re there, I’ve got my phone in my hand. I’ve tried to call Lauren about fifteen times now, and each time, the call goes straight to voice mail.
Once I get my car out, I make my way over to Lauren’s, parking my car at the curb. I take a deep breath, but my door is whipped open. I look up and see Noah.
“As your friend, I’m going to try to talk you out of this.” I shake my head, ignoring him. I get out of the car and walk to her door. “This is a really, really bad idea. Women who are pissed can do evil things. I mean, she wasn’t even that pissed at you when she almost made your balls explode.”
“I have to see her,” I say and then knock on the door. When I hear the locks click open, my heart literally skips a beat and a smile starts to creep across my face. It’s quickly replaced with a frown when I see that it’s Kaleigh who opens the door—with what appears to be a machete in her hand. Okay, so maybe not a real machete, but it sure as hell is a knife that looks like it can easily debone a chicken and probably take off a man’s—hopefully not this man’s—hand. She comes outside, closing the door behind her as the sound of Alanis Morissette is playing in the background.
“You have some nerve showing your face here,” she spits out at me.
“Is Lauren home?” I sound like a dork. Obviously, she’s there, her car is here.
“She is,” she confirms as she sways a little. I look a little closer and can tell that she is totally blitzed.
“Whoa, there, little lady.” Noah wraps an arm around her shoulders to avoid the knife to the dick.
“I need to talk to her,” I say.
“Not going to happen. Not now, not ever.” she continues, “You fucked up bad.” She is now pointing the knife at me, and her voice is rising. “Really, really bad.”
“Babe, can we put the knife down?” Noah pleads with a smile, and she smiles at him while bashfully giggling.
“Can I please just talk to Lauren for two minutes? Then I’ll leave, I promise,” I practically beg.
“Nope,” she replies and then turns around, grabbing the door handle and talking to us over her shoulder. “If you’re not gone in two minutes, I’m calling the cops and telling them you’re stalking me.” I scoff at that, and she glares at me. “And show them the inappropriate dick pics you sent me.”
I turn to look at Noah, who says, “I may have showed them to her and she might have forwarded a couple of them to herself.”
“Can you please tell her that I was here and ask her to call me? Please, Kaleigh?” I beg as she slams the door in my face and flips the locks with loud clicking sounds.
I hang my head, while Noah pats me on the back. “She’ll call.” He assures me. “Or send someone to kill you. I mean, she did say Donkey Kong.”
I shrug his hand off me and walk back to my car, wishing I could just start this day over or at least go back to the moment when I walked back into the office after my meeting.
Noah gets in his car and goes home, while I head to my condo. I go straight into my bedroom and throw myself onto my bed. I scrub a hand down my face as my mind runs back over my day. Fuck! This is a such mess.
I get up, tossing my jacket onto the chair in the corner and pulling my shirt out and unbuttoning it. I shrug it off and see the red lipstick on the collar. The same damn lipstick that started this whole fucking nightmare. I wad up the shirt and throw it straight into the fucking trash.
The next day, I get to work earlier than normal. I wait anxiously for eight o’clock to roll around, so I can see her the minute she comes in.
When it hits eight-ten, my hands start to get sweaty, and my shirt starts feeling a bit tight around my neck, so I undo the collar. An email ping comes from my computer, and I turn to look at it when I see Carmen sit down at Lauren’s desk.