Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“Skipper’s usually the most even-tempered woman you’d ever meet.” Hendrix pauses to narrow her eyes. “Why do I feel like we just witnessed some kind of hostile mating ritual?”
“You think they’re smashing right now?”
“Oh, a hundred percent.”
Our gazes tangle and laughter erupts from us both.
“It was like an episode of Will & Grace,” she says. “Kind of Karen and Beverley Leslie, but with prickly sexual vibes.”
“I’ve never seen Will & Grace,” I admit. “But I’ll take your word for it.”
“You’ve never seen…” Her dark eyes go wide, the feathery false lashes nearly brushing her brows. “Oh you gotta watch. It’s a classic.”
“One of your favorites?”
“Well, yes. Not the favorite, but one of them.”
“What’s the favorite?”
“Wow. That’s tough.” She kicks off one shoe and wiggles her toes. “Don’t look at my feet. I didn’t have time for a pedicure.”
I glance down.
“What did I just say?” She chokes out a laugh. “Don’t look at my feet.”
She tucks the bare foot behind her ankle, effectively hiding it, but not before I’ve seen the dark, chipped polish. It’s a pretty foot with a high arch. The tiny imperfection makes me feel like I’ve gotten a glimpse behind a gilded curtain—not just the polish on her toes, but the polish on her. That I’ve seen something real, authentic.
“Hmmmm.” She tilts her head back. “All-time favorite may be The Wire.”
“Ohhhhh,” I say approvingly, leaning one elbow on the balcony railing. “Good taste. You like Top Boy, too?”
“I’ve never seen it. I need something really good to watch.”
I pound the balcony railing with one fist. “Damn, I envy you getting to watch that for the first time. It’s British. I’ve only gotten through season one, but it’s incredible. Like The Wire, but East London. So fucking good.”
She flutters her fingertips together. “I’m in.”
“Watch Summerhouse first. Sort of a prequel, but it’s short.”
“If I got nothing else from tonight,” she says, “I have a new show to watch.”
“Seems like you’ll get a lot out of tonight.” I nod my chin over my shoulder toward the ballroom. “Quite a presentation you and your partners put on. And you have a great group of founders. Thanks for inviting me.”
“See anything you like?”
I consider her in the light of lamps and moonbeams with her skin warm and deep chestnut against the vibrant pink of her dress.
I see something I like much more than I should.
“You already know I want in on Hue,” I answer the unwittingly loaded question as innocuously as possible.
“Of course. I’d be surprised if you didn’t. Anything else intrigue you?”
Too many wrong answers to that question, too.
I settle on: “We’ll see.”
“Take all the time you need.” She leans her elbows on the railing and stares at the view, her profile a bold etching against the city’s glow. “I appreciate you coming.”
I weigh the question that has been plaguing me since I first saw her tonight.
“I meant to check earlier, but there wasn’t time,” I say. “How’s your mother?”
She drops her chin the slightest bit and bites her bottom lip before snapping her head back to a proud angle. “Hanging in there. Doing pretty well, considering. My aunt’s having major surgery in a few weeks. She’ll be on bedrest and will need assistance with Mama, so I’ll be going home to help.”
It was always tough seeing my grandfather after not visiting for a while. Every time I saw him for the first time again, his vitality seemed to be fading a little more. Alzheimer’s as a concept a few states away is very different from the daily reality of it in person.
“You know,” I say, “my mom got into a support group for loved ones and caretakers. That might not be a bad idea for you, especially as things progress.”
Something akin to panic freezes on her face for a moment, but then melts into resignation. “You’re probably right. I think being home that long might force me to face the inevitability of this situation in a way I haven’t had to before.”
“And home is where?”
“Charlotte. Well, a little town right outside of it. When you’re from a rural area, you kinda just claim the closest big city.”
“I would never have pegged you for ‘rural.’”
“I country code switch,” she laughs. “Let me get around my people for a few minutes and the country comes out. So you grew up on the West Coast?”
“Pretty much. When I was young, my dad played for the Clippers. The team had relocated from Buffalo to San Diego and then to LA, which is where I was born.”
“Your dad played with them his whole career?”
“Nah, near the end he got traded a few times. We bounced around some, but we kept our place in LA. When he retired, we moved back there until he got a job as an assistant coach with the Vegas Vipers.”
“So you spent a lot of time in Vegas?”