Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Well, I assumed this was for me.”
“You assumed it was for you,” Posey repeats in a deadly way that has my fork paused halfway to my mouth, terrified to bite down on my fork.
Angrier still, she swoops in and steals the cake right out from under me, snatching the entire thing up by the plate and pulling it to her side of the table where she stands. She lifts it possessively, eyes narrowed dangerously in my direction as she mentally catalogs my crimes against humanity.
She looks the cake over.
Turns it around and around, assessing it from all angles.
“You ruined it!” She sounds dismayed. “I can’t fix this. You ate a giant hole in the side!” She’s beyond irritated. “This took me hours to decorate—for my friend Anna’s birthday.” She glares. “We were going to celebrate to-mor-row!”
“You can’t fix it? Jam some frosting in the hole. It’ll be fine.”
There.
Problem solved.
“Jam some frosting in the hole.” She places the cake back on the table.
Yikes. She’s like a tigress wanting to claw my eyes out.
“Angry is not a good look for you,” I point out, licking the remaining icing off my fingers. “Your face is all—” I pull a face to mimic her unattractive one, my mouth and cheeks in different directions.
“I’m sorry, are you mocking me?" Now she's gesturing wildly. "Is that supposed to be me?”
I try to pull the cake to my side of the table and out of her possession—and back into mine—but it’s too far to reach, even for me.
“I’m just sayin’, you don’t need to be all pissed. We’ll get your birthday friend Jana another cake.” I smile. “My treat.”
Posey pulls it farther out of my reach.
“Her name is Anna. Not Jana. The cake is for Anna—and I don’t want to get her another cake. I wanted to bring her this cake because it’s her favorite. She loves roses, and I made the goddamn cake!”
Whoa.
“I highly doubt this Anna person is as deserving as I am of an entire cake.”
“It’s her birthday.”
“Well, I spent half the mornin’ cleaning out that shed. I could have gotten tetanus. You should see all the dust, not to mention the raccoon and mouse shit.” I lunge forward to jam a fork into its spongy side—a direct hit!
I feed myself the scrap with a groan. “Damn, this is good. So fresh.”
So moist.
“Oh my God, what is wrong with you?” she shouts, positively livid, face red. “Stop eating it, dammit!”
I lick my fork. “It’s already ruined! I don’t see what the big deal is.”
Jeez.
“You know what? This arrangement is never going to work.”
Posey swoops up the cake plate, marches to the trash, opens the lid—and dumps the entire cake inside.
“You”—she points at me—“have no boundaries. This was clearly a birthday cake intended for someone else. Why would I make a giant man-child a cake with pink roses on it? Why? Why wouldn’t I make him a blue cake? Or a black cake to match his soul?”
“Ouch. I’m offended.”
Not.
“And you go eating it without asking first,” she bedraggles on, slamming the lid to the trash can shut.
I rise out of my chair. “You’re wasting a perfectly good cake!”
My voice has risen several octaves because HELLO! Cake!
“I...would rather...throw it. In. The. Trash. Than let your greedy face eat the rest!” Her sentence is stilted and punctuated by passion.
In a few short strides, I am in front of the trash, pop the lid back open and assess the damage. The cake, although discarded in such a careless manner, seems to be mostly intact and visibly edible. I mean, beneath it might be some other random waste, but nothing so disgusting I can’t find a way to eat around it.
I still want it.
Rooting around to get the best grip, I lift it out with my fingers sinking into the frosting, palms now covered in ooey, gooey deliciousness.
Cake and frosting chunks fall to the floor.
Her eyes follow.
Make the trip back up to my face before gasping. “Have you lost your damn mind?”
I bite into the side as if it were a tiny scone. “Yum.”
“Have you no shame?”
“Oh, I have shame, all right, just not when it comes to food.”
I take another bite, savoring:
The outraged look on her face.
The flavor of the cake and the frosting.
The shock and awe I’ve created by fishing food out of the trash and eating it.
Bet that’s a first for Prim and Proper Posey.
“You know what you sound like?” I swallow the bite in my mouth and grin. “You sound like a kindergarten teacher.”
Her nostrils flare before she lunches for the cake in my hands, grabbing whatever she can, and tossing it back into the trash.
“At least my students behave better than you.” She’s breathing hard as if she’s just been fucked in a sweaty round of sex.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Lady, you need a drink.”