Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
“Bring it to the restaurant,” I say as I scrawl my name across the page. “I’ll sign it when you guys come by for dinner.”
“Really?”
“I don’t lie.” I give him a piercing look so he understands that I’m talking about more than a signed book. Slater is not a cheater, and if I have to go around this city and tell each and every person that, I will.
The manager nods in understanding and skips down the hall with the paper tucked into his pocket.
Immediately I start banging on the door. Wilson doesn’t answer on the first knock or the second one, but I can stand here all day if I need to, making a ruckus, embarrassing him in front of his neighbors. Finally, the door is wrenched open.
“Wha—“ he starts to say before I barge in, my hand on his throat.
I kick the door shut and back Wilson up against the wall. “Nod if you know who I am.”
Wilson nods.
“I don’t like what you’re saying about Slater on the internet. Make it stop.”
He spreads his hands from his sides as if to signal he’s helpless. He makes some gurgling sounds which I can’t interpret, so I ease up on his windpipe.
“Fuck man, what the hell? Do I look like I control what’s being said? It’s the fucking internet.”
I reapply the pressure. “You started it. You can put it out.”
He gasps out some words that I can’t make out and claws at my wrist. Disgusted, I release him. There are better ways to threaten this punk.
“Where are you going?” He scampers after me as I move toward the kitchen. His place is one of those open plans, and the cooking space is clean and uncluttered. The island is a different story. There are dozens of bottles, most of them empty. A funnel and tube lies next to a red concoction in a pitcher. Wine glasses are scattered throughout. A round donut-shaped light is clamped on one end of the counter, and a tripod without a camera is placed to the left. His knife block appears as if it was just unwrapped from a home goods store a day ago. I pull out the large chef’s knife and run my finger across the surface. Dull but serviceable for my needs.
I turn the tip down and drag it across the quartz counter top.
“You’re scratching my counter,” he cries, slapping his hands to his cheeks.
“Brother, I’m going to be scratching more than the counter in about two seconds if you don’t get on your phone and start fixing the problem.”
Chapter Fifteen
SLATER
Idebate if I should call or text Brooks. I think it might freak him out, or he’ll want to come along. Am I that crazy that I don’t want him to come with me to meet up with my ex-best friend who slept with my kind of boyfriend? I think not, but then maybe I am because I agreed to meet up with her myself. I should have ignored her call, but with everything going on, I answered.
Not only that, I had thought she was my friend, and I know she's got issues, but don't we all? I'm a bit looney tunes myself lately. I’m not sure what I’m hoping to accomplish, but I’ve already resigned myself to going.
I throw on a pair of yoga pants and an oversized sweater and grab the baseball hat I'd gotten at a baseball game when I did a food crawl at the stadium. I usually wear it whenever I want to hide, and right now, that's what I really want to do.
When I step onto the elevator to head down, I say a silent prayer that I don't run into Brooks. If I do, I know there isn't a chance in hell I'll be getting to do this alone. He is rather hostile when it comes to people wronging me. I probably shouldn’t get a kick out of how riled up he gets, but I do. It's kind of adorable, but I'm not telling him that. He has already been plotting Felipe's death. I thought he was joking at first, trying to get me to smile, but Brooks never cracked a smile himself.
I don't need my baby daddy and maybe fiancé going to jail. That would be a nightmare for both of us. Actually, I bet Brooks would still be praised, while I'd be the villain that caused all of this.
Well, shit, I internally sigh when the doors open and I see who is standing there. It's not Brooks; instead, it's the girl who works for him that dislikes me. What did he say her name was again? Jill, Jessica—no, Gabby! Her eyes narrow when she sees it's me. I’m guessing she wasn’t a fan of the announcement Brooks made about us being together.
"You're still here." Wow, she's not even trying to hide her dislike for me. I can't help but think it's because she forged a note from me but still has a job. If Brooks is at work, he had to have seen her.