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)
Her expression grows icy, and it’s all I’d like to give you an arrow straight to the head. Yeah, well, she can get in line.
“I maintain that you’re deluding yourself. And deluding yourself is a good way to get hurt. Even your cat’s name is part of your fantasy. Have you never stopped to consider how inappropriate that name actually is?” It sounds like something that…well…would be better suited for a certain kind of industry.
Her mouth drops in a holy cats, you did not just go there rounded O of shock and rage. “She’s called Peach Lips because she likes her peach catnip best, and she gets it stuck all over her mouth. It’s so freaking cute. You’d know that if you truly looked me up.”
“I know why you named her that because I did look you up—and in a more thorough way than anyone else would have the ability to do unless they’re trying to cause you real harm or are truly nefarious, and I’m not ruling any of that out. But my opinion of the name stands.”
Her nose scrunches, causing exactly four freckles to leap and twist. “Yeah, still a hard pass.” She looks like she wants to flip me off, but she’s too polite. Instead, she does it with that nose wrinkle, like I’m some foul algae brew, and she’s so not in her bog witch era. “Even more so now. I didn’t like your vibe, and that was before you even opened your mouth. At the very beginning. Before any of this happened. You’re a skulker. A hulker. It’s clear you should stick to the shadows instead of trying to engage in open communication with anyone. It’s not working for you.”
I can see I’m not going to get anywhere at the moment. The cops are going to come, but I’ll send Amanda to fill out the incident report for our company as well. Ephemeral can go back to living in her forest—okay, her bus—and pretend nothing bad is ever going to happen.
I snap out a business card. I’m sure she’ll cave after she thinks it through. “Call if you change your mind.”
“Unless you’re going to let me have Amanda, I won’t change anything,” she says, though she does glance at the card before shoving it back at me.
I set it down on her table, turn around, and walk away.
For some reason, walking away is harder to do than I thought it would be.
It’s not because Ephemeral, with her strange name and her huge green eyes and her sadness clinging to her like fairy dust to her wilted wings and all, looks vulnerable, shaken, and depleted now that the fight is bleeding out of her.
Walking away is only difficult because I can’t stand not getting my way when it comes to my work. I’m not a selfish prick or one of those unspeakable nepo babies. I’ve had nothing handed to me, and that’s what makes me insufferable. I’ve worked for a living. I scraped and fought and clawed and all that good stuff. I’ve sacrificed everything to get here. I’m not going back to the bottom, and I’m not going down with this smudge shitting all over my hopes and dreams.
I’m not a bully.
It might chap my ass goddamn near raw, but I’ve learned that patience is often far better than persisting at the moment. Persistence in the long run, however, is gold.
So persistence it will be. I’m not letting this go.
She’ll see sense and come around when the emotional toll of the day wears off. When she does, I won’t even be an I told you so asshole about it.
I can be nice.
And okay, whatever, it’s my redemption on the line.
Chapter three
Ephemeral
Itechnically call Florida my home. Because I live on a bus, I had to choose somewhere warm enough to spend the winter months to ensure that, with minimal heating and insulation, we’d be okay. Not that there is zero, but it’s not a we can all handle minus twenty-two degrees situation. I’d have to keep the bus running instead of just relying on my small generator in places where I can’t plug into powered campsites, and that’s expensive and dangerous. I mean, I think so. Fumes and all that.
I’ve strategically planned the show circuit so that I said yes to conventions, gatherings, and all the cat and animal-related everything in the warm months. And then, in the fall, I shift my focus down south, where there isn’t usually snow.
Whoever said van life or bus life or whatever was easy probably never lived in one. Sure, you don’t have a mortgage, but your home is also your vehicle, and there are gas and camping fees and basic survival to figure out.
When I decided to commit to bringing Peach Lips to all the people out there who would love to meet her and all the people who didn’t know they would like to get to know her so we can go the extra mile in making a difference in the lives of shelter animals and those on the streets, I got down to planning, and the fact that I already lived on a bus made it far easier to make the shows a reality. I don’t know how we’d ever manage otherwise. I suppose in a car and in endless hotels with an apartment back home that I’d rarely ever see but have to pay for regardless.