Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
“You took Christmas week off,” he throws back snidely.
“Because the office was closed, yet you still made me work.” Asshole. There were three property emergencies, too: a break-in, a sprinkler situation, and a possum stampede at the warehouse we’d just leased to an exotic-pet-food distributor. Apparently, an entire colony of possums moved in because someone dropped off ten pallets of crunchy maggot bars before we’d installed the new bay doors for the forthcoming tenants. Possum party. The door-installation guys nearly crapped themselves.
Pussies. Possums are so cute.
“Dick, you promised I could take two weeks after the Shuck-Em & Suck-Em Tournament.” It’s held at some golf club near New Orleans.
“Two weeks?” he barks, leaning forward in his chair. He immediately reaches for some M&Ms in his special bowl shaped like a putting green.
“You owe me six. Maybe I should take them all.” I fold my arms across my chest. I’m not budging. Not this time. I need to rest, and it’s impossible to do when I don’t have a home, a sanctuary, a place to shut out the world and read or stare at the wall, wondering how my life got so far off track. I just turned thirty-two, and I feel like I’m behind in every possible way.
I really should be running my own business by now. A boyfriend would be great, too. I haven’t had sex in over a year unless you count my trusty steed, Mr. Hot Pink Orgasm Stick. That’s right. No fancy dildo names for me. I’m a simple girl.
“One week,” Dick throws back with a mouthful of candy, little chunks of chocolate flying onto the belly of his white golf shirt.
What a pig. “Five,” I retort.
“Fine. Two weeks.” He shakes a finger at me. “But you can’t leave until Coco’s up to speed.”
Coco is the other owner’s assistant, except that the other owner, Larry, handles the corporate relocation properties in Dallas and Houston, and he actually pulls his weight. Coco mostly answers phones, coordinates meetings, and does paperwork. I, on the other hand, do almost everything for Dick. For the same goddamned pay as Coco.
I need to find another job. But after I take all of my vacation time. “I’ll get Coco up to speed this afternoon.”
“Sure I can’t talk you into only taking one week?” Dick asks sweetly.
Does he honestly believe he can charm me into less time? He’s as dumb as a bucket of golf balls.
“What was that, Dick? You want me to take one extra week? That is so generous of you, Dick,” I say to mess with him. “I’d love to have three weeks off.”
He narrows his beady eyes. “Nice try.”
“Ditto.” I turn to leave. “See you in two weeks.”
Finally done with my workday, I’m at the laundromat, unloading suitcases filled with stinky clothes from my white Chevy Malibu, when my cell rings. I can tell by the magical sound of fairy-dust music that it’s Sofie, my best friend since college. We both studied business, but she ended up becoming a life coach.
Yes. A life coach at thirty-two years old.
How someone my age can advise people, who make tens of millions of dollars, on the inner workings of getting their shit together, I don’t know. But Sofie’s business is a gold mine. She has a long list of famous, successful clients. Maybe being successful makes you bananas.
Still standing on the sidewalk, I dig for my cell and answer. “Hey, girl. I’m in the middle of getting the stink from my stuff due to the Mr. Hanky attack.” The smell is so bad that I’ve vacated the super cheap motel I stayed at last night. Yes, my belongings actually ruined a room with cigarette burns on every surface and a very questionable bedspread. Was the splatter pattern original or added over time by each male guest?
Tonight, I plan to stay at another charmer with both hourly and daily rates, and there I shall stay until I find a permanent place. Thankfully, I’ve got a plan, aside from swinging by Costco to buy bulk pepper spray and a gallon of disinfectant. I plan to see five apartments a day until I find one that works. The good rentals go fast, so you have to be on the ball.
“Milaaa!” Sofie squeals through the phone. “Ohmygod. Ohmygod. I’m going to tell you something, and you can’t say no.”
Meaning, she’s not going to “tell” me anything. She’s going to try to talk me into something.
“I am not buying a llama farm with you.” I pause. “Or getting Abba forever tattoos.” She loves disco.
“This isn’t like that,” she singsongs.
“Okay. What is it this time?”
“One week. All-inclusive trip to Jamaica. You and me.”
I sigh. “Sof, I only wish I had the money to take a real vacation, but I just had to borrow money from my parents for a new place.” That’s if I’m lucky enough to find one in a nice neighborhood with a reasonable commute. I already asked Larry if he knew of any apartments, but he said the market is tight. Tons of people and companies are moving to Texas, and there isn’t enough inventory. His corporate relo properties are all booked, so even he’s reverted to setting up clients in efficiency suites in hotels. Very pricy. But that’s the service he provides.