Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Well, Jade and June aren’t reserved right now. They rush forward and start cooing over Peach Lips like they’ve never seen anything more fabulous in their lives.
Another person breaks out of the crowd. John Sanders provides our lobby security. He’s normally like an unmoving pillar, his eyes taking in everything, but even from all the way back here, I can trace his line of sight, which is honing straight onto Ephemeral. And why wouldn’t people want to look at her? She’s captivating. Stunning. Gorgeous. And that’s when she’s not smiling, half shy and half proud like she is now.
The sensation that hits me square in the chest isn’t ugly. It’s not even close to jealousy. I wouldn’t say the desire to bend John into a pretzel shape that rearranges all his limbs is ugly. Chiropractors get paid to do almost the same thing, and it’s a legit profession.
Yeah.
Fuckity fuck this.
I’m not going to stand here and wait for the entire building to empty out. For one, that would cause a disruption that could have long-lasting repercussions. And two, Peach Lips would be overwhelmed, and if she got scared, then Ephemeral would be stressed.
I can’t let that happen.
I won’t.
I hurtle out of my office and head straight for the elevator. It takes its sweet arse time to get up to this floor, but eventually, I’m on my way down.
Exiting into the hallway and making my way to the front of the lobby, I can see that the crowd has already doubled in size. Wham Bam is still holding Peach Lips and dancing away with gentle swaying motions, the cat tucked safely against her shoulder.
No matter who is down here, how little they usually smile or how they’d shit all over Christmas and every holiday if given a chance, and what walk of life they found themselves treading or what brought them here, right now, right in front of my eyes, every single person is united in shining eyes and ooh and ahh sighs.
For Peach Lips.
The sweetest dumpling of a potato cat.
I didn’t get it before this moment. I failed to understand what Ephemeral meant when she said Peach Lips was magic. Well, she is a. Pure. Magical. Wonder.
As I get closer to the fray, I hear John asking Ephemeral about her home. “It’s crazy that you live on a bus. What’s the strangest thing that’s ever happened? Or worst? Or both.”
She laughs lightly, a sparkly sound like windchimes on a not-so-breezy day. I wish I were the cause of it and not John Soon To Be Pretzeled Beyond Recognition Sanders.
“Ugh, one time, my generator failed. I was gone for the whole day. Twelve hours at a show from start to finish. When I got back, everything inside had spoiled. It was just a small fridge, but you can’t imagine the stench. Plus, it was nearly impossible to clean it on the bus. I took Peach Lips outside in her carrier and let her sit in the shade while I attacked it with all the cleaning products I had, caustic and natural alike. In the end, it took days to air out. The whole place smelled like rotting trash until I rented one of those ozone machines while we stayed in a hotel.”
John laughs. Wildly. Ha fucking ha. More than ever, I’d like to relocate him to Anus Anusville. And nope, that’s not me getting jealous about laughter.
“Sounds worse than a crime scene.”
Ephemeral pales. “Oh. I…wouldn’t know anything about that. Goodness.”
John knows nothing about it either, and that’s a darned fact.
As the crowd spots me, they part and go silent. They lose some of their smiles and start getting that guilty oh shit, we’re supposed to be working look.
Ephemeral could lay me out to dry here, but inexplicably, she doesn’t. She treats me with a smile so rare that I feel like I’ve just won the smile lottery. I’m solely focused on her bright green eyes, her full lips, the blush that pinks her cheeks so very delicately, her bright and epic cat dress, and her funky platform boots.
She claps. I look around, wondering what on earth she’s doing and who she’s applauding, but then her smile grows. Her hands beat harder together. Furiously. She means business.
Her hand waves, indicating the length of me, which includes the fake beard, mustache, and glasses. You’d think it would be more effective to wear it in the field, or at least more token, but try chasing and tackling someone down with fake facial hair and glasses. It’s not the most convenient thing in the world.
“Your idea is a huge success already,” she croons. I’m stunned, but I’m far too used to being stoic to show it. The rest of the crowd in the lobby is stunned, too, but not all of them hide it well. A few people openly gape at me. “You wanted to have Peach Lips meet everyone she was working with and even all those who wouldn’t be directly rebranding us in order for the best possible outcome.”