Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
He reaches over the counter and rubs my shoulder with care. “You really need to get yourself laid. Like, tonight.”
I shrug his hand off. “Stop. Hurts. Pulled something in my shoulder at the gym earlier.”
“Dude, you’re as tense as a boulder.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“More than because of your workout. Your attitude is like … a solid-ass … rocky … rock. You need a massage. Do you still get the hookup from Armando at the Elysian?”
Not since his last masseuse got bold and tried to give me a happy ending, but I don’t mention that. “There’s a lot going on. I needed Cooper tonight. I really needed to talk to someone who isn’t related to me.”
“I’m not related.”
“You’re also not helpful.”
Chase whips out his phone with a sigh. “Well, when I get stressed, I download a new game and play the fuck out of it. I like the little cute chiming sounds. Relaxes me.”
“I’m not a gamer.”
“I end up only playing it the once, then I get bored and delete it. All the games are the same anyway.” He frowns. “Shit. I just depressed myself. I go through games the way Adrian used to go through guys.”
Adrian is a mutual friend of ours who used to have a reputation for being a player until he recently settled down and, to everyone’s shock, got married. Adrian has three brothers and likely would understand my need for talking to someone who isn’t one of my sisters, but he’s just about as difficult to get alone as Cooper is, wrapped up in his work at Thalassa or his new married life with his hubby.
“Dude, it just gets worse and worse,” laughs Chase, a hand over his mouth as he thumbs through his phone. “You remember that viral video earlier this week? I know,” he quickly says, “you don’t do social media, blah, blah … but dude, I can’t get away from it.”
“Just delete your apps,” I mumble, fighting off a yawn.
“Like, this actor knocks out his director, no one knows why, people are speculating. First, everyone thought there was some secret baby situation, but that proved to be a dumb rumor. Now all the pieces are being put together, and it turns out the actor is this totally argumentative, difficult, conceited nut job …”
“As fun as it is to gossip about people,” I say, lifting a hand, “unless you lived it, no one knows the full story.”
“But the full story is out there!” he insists, wiggling his phone. “That’s what I’m saying! There’s video evidence.”
I realize I’m not gonna get what I need here. Cooper has his face buried in his boyfriend’s butt and I may as well be sitting at home suffering alone. “Sorry that I’m not good company, Chase. Tell Cooper—again—that I stopped by.”
“Sorry for going on and on like this,” he sighs. “Dunno how I became so invested in the first place. Been a minute since I’ve even seen a movie starring River Wolfe.”
I slide off the stool—only to come to a dead stop, my breath hitching at the name.
I turn back. “River … who?”
Chapter 7 - River
“Your PR people are a ton of fucking jokes.”
I sigh at Anya’s words, pacing the living room. “I was told to stay put, that my team would handle everything, but then I remember how they tried turning me into a TikTok boy last year … Do I look like a good dancer to you?”
“All they need to do is turn you into a decent human being, and they’re failing at that. Riv, silence is hurting you more. People are demanding to know why charges haven’t been brought against you. By the way: they still can be.”
“They’d speculate why if they had any brains.”
“You’ve circled that couch a hundred times.”
“Getting my cardio in.”
“Riv …”
I come to a stop at the back of the couch and grip it, posture breaking, as I hang my head. “I’m doing what they told me to do, Anya. My hands are tied. I’m so … tired.”
She sighs from her spot on the coffee table where I’ve propped up my phone, her face filling up the screen. Her face is covered in special green goo her girlfriend told her to use—“takes ten years off!” she insisted.
Anya’s voice goes soft. “This River I’m seeing is a far cry from the cocky little shit I was talking to a few days ago. Is reality finally setting in?”
“Try existential dread.”
“Have you spoken to your sponsor? Do you need to?”
“No drink in sight. Not tempted. Not even a tiny bit.”
“Are you convincing me or yourself?”
“I just threw out a bottle of sparkling wine they put in my welcome basket without even opening it. Set it out on the back porch where it was … was swiftly …”
Finn’s face drifts into view in my mind.
His soft, sweet eyes on that back porch when he found the bottle I left out. How he looked like a guardian angel protecting me from it. Then following me down to the rocky shoreline, where his eyes became a shiny cocktail of excitement, fear, and concern for my mental wellbeing.