Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
Two minutes. Two. Minutes. That’s all it took for Leslie to ruin the good thing I was building with this lovely creature who might be the only person in the room who can write a run-on sentence with such skill, and emotion, and… and… and moxie that one does not even understand that she, lovely Cordy, just wrote the world’s longest run-on sentence because they have been captivated—imprisoned, even—by her brilliant author voice.
Cordy Serendipitous’s ability to string words together for the longest of sequences is what drew me to her in the first place. I love it. I love that she breaks all the rules. It’s so… so… fuckin’ courageous—especially in a world filled with people who want nothing more than the expected to jump out at them in a totally expected way, lest they have to stretch their minds a bit to find the hidden messages hiding just below the surface—that I, for once, did not feel like a completely isolated freak among those who fit in. At least as far as writing goes.
And Leslie Munch has fucked that up with two words of caution.
Be careful.
I take a deep breath and direct my attention to Britney, because she’s talking. “Cord. Please. Do not take that woman seriously. I mean, I like her stuff.” Britney looks at me. “It’s nothing compared to your sister, mind you. Your sister’s stuff is”—she clicks her tongue—“fucking absolute! But Raylen Star? Man, she used to write some good shit.”
I’m about to ask where she’s going with this when Brit-Brit gets to the point. “But something happened to her, ya know?”
Britney is looking at me, so I nod enthusiastically. “She has been accusing us—I mean, Essie—of ripping off her shit for years. It was a constant thing for a while there. She even took us to court and lost.”
“Oh, my God.” Britney’s eyes are wide. “I totally remember that!” Britney looks over at Cordy, who still has that look on her face like she’s following this conversation, but not completely sold yet. “Remember, Cord? She had to make that public apology?” Britney snorts.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the muscles in Cordy Serendipitous’s face relax and she forces a smile. “Oh. Right. I kinda do remember that.”
I begin to relax as well. Because the BFF is firmly on my side. I can feel it. I like this friend. “Hey!” I suddenly get a great idea. “What do you two have planned for the mixer tonight?”
There is another look exchanged between Britney and Cordy. This one says, You’re going. That’s coming from Britney. But Cordy is trying really hard to get out of this without using her words, so her face says… well, it’s just a look of I’m panicking, but trying not to look like I’m panicking.
I interject before this goes any further. “Listen, why don’t you two join Essie, Mike, and me at our living room configuration tonight.” I’m looking at Britney when I say this, because this bait is for her, not Cordy.
Britney is immediately confused. “Your… what?”
“Oh, sorry. The lounge where the mixer is—they don’t really have tables. They have living-room configurations. Couches and chairs with coffee tables. We have the center one reserved.”
Britney makes a face of understanding. “Oooooh! That would be so much fun! Right, Cord?” She grabs Cordy’s arm, tugging on it like an excited child.
Cordy continues to be confused. Or possibly suspicious. “And you’re inviting us… why?”
“So I can take you around and introduce you to everyone.” I soften my voice for this part, toning down the used-car salesman approach. That’s not how Cordelia works. She’s a quiet woman with a busy mind who can’t be tricked into things. She’s a thinker. So I use logic on her. “They’re nice people, Cordelia. Most of them, anyway. And I promise to only introduce you to the nice ones.”
“We’d love that.” Britney is holding Cordy’s hand now, squeezing it, like she’s going to make Cordelia agree to this no matter what.
Finally, Cordy smiles. It’s mostly genuine. “Umm…” She looks at her ARC in my hand.
As I expected her to. “Oh. I’ll read it this afternoon and return it to you tonight. I promise.” This is Cordy’s bait. She’s that practical.
Cordelia Sarantopoulos is convinced. Kind of. Her “OK” is soft and filled with resignation, but it’s still an affirmative.
“Yay!” Britney jumps up and down a few times. “We’re gonna have so much fun!”
I decide to end on this high note. “I’ll see you then.” Then I hold up the book for a wave, and retreat to the other side of the SS banner.
Back in my suite, I pick through the complimentary fruit basket on the dining table, then use the phone in the bedroom to call the concierge. It takes me thirty seconds to make arrangements for Cordy. There is just one room left and it’s an executive suite that comes with a conference room.