Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“Nobody did. Yet. I’ve got to finish up a few things at the office. Then I’ll make a call to Lyric tomorrow.” I already knew I would. Randy’s name sitting there like a beacon, flashing on the screen, is doing nothing to calm the storm brewing inside me, inherently eating me up. The anger I hold over Lyric makes me second-guess calling her tomorrow, but there’s my mom, hounding me, Dad getting in on it, and my own fucking conscience.
“Well, shoot, I’m sorry. I’ll let you go. If you think about it, text me when you make it home. I worry, you know.”
“It’s okay, and I’m well aware you worry. I’ll send you a message. Even though you or Dad never respond,” I appease her. When I’m out and she’s none the wiser, Mom doesn’t ask me to do this. Occurrences like these, well, they seem to hit differently.
“One day, we might, though. I love you, Jagger.” She gives me false hope over her use of technology. Hence her calling me from her landline this evening.
“I love you, too. Talk soon.” We hang up after that. I don’t waste any time ending the call. I stand up, grab the files, my laptop, the keys to my truck, and the phone I was using seconds ago. There’s no use staying in the office to work. The quiet room does nothing to help me focus. It didn’t before the call, and it still doesn’t now. At least at home, there’s beer to drink and food to eat with a television that will no doubt have a game playing. Anything sounds better than sitting at the office on a Friday night, alone.
6
LYRIC
“Five more minutes,” I mumble into my pillow, slapping my hand around on the mattress until I find the blaring annoyance of my phone going off. Finally, my palm meets the device, and the noise quits making a racket. I roll over, tuck myself beneath the covers, and hide away from the sun shining into my room. The last thing I want to do is wake up when I only fell asleep what seems like hours ago.
I’d been packing all of the yard tools into the detached garage when Eleanor came traipsing over. I stopped what I was doing immediately and headed in her direction. My outfit that consisted of a long-sleeve shirt, a pair of old ratty jeans with rips in the knees and stained with paint or bleach in a few areas, and sneakers that have seen better days was something to look at, that’s for sure. I finally finished what I could, and luckily for me, the tenants didn’t leave any belongings in the detached garage and it’s in a heck of a lot better shape than the interior of the house.
I still have a lot of work left to do in the backyard, but the small dent in the progress out front made me feel proud. Until I did a quick survey while Eleanor invited me over to their house for a hot meal and air conditioning. I was tempted to say no, until she mentioned what they cooked. My stomach let out a loud growl at the thought a Greek salad, fettuccine Alfredo, chicken cutlets, garlic knots, and tiramisu. All catered from the pizzeria the next town over. They said they always order too much, that after all these years, they’re still unable to order or cook for only the two of them.
After a couple of more minutes, she thoroughly convinced me to join their party of two even though I knew I’d feel more like a third wheel. Which I actually didn’t, by the way. We chatted, ate our fill, and then we said good night. They even tried to lure me into spending the night, but I told them my room was paid for, and there was no use letting money go to waste. I think Eleanor might have been a little worried that I would be too tired to drive; little did she know that wasn’t the case.
“Ugh, what’s the point?” I groan groggily as my phone goes off again. Surely, it hasn’t been enough time yet. The sleepiness finally fades, and I realize it’s my phone ringing. I never turned on my alarm. I haven’t since the day Dad died. There wasn’t a point; my schedule hasn’t been the same ever since. I’d like to fix that, but until I get my whole housing situation under control, I’m looking at this as a turning of a leaf and letting things roll off my back for the time being.
My hand slides from under the covers, the cold air sneaking its way in and causing me to shiver. I hurriedly snatch my phone before sinking deeper into the abyss of warmth. My eyes are still blurry and out of focus after the little sleep I got. I assumed after leaving the Steeles, I’d be exhausted. The sun, the heat, working in the yard, and a full stomach would usually have me promptly passing out. Sadly, it didn’t. The hot shower, washing my hair and shaving my legs, didn’t tire me out, either. I didn’t understand it because every muscle I had in my body was protesting any movement. Yet, I couldn’t get my mind to shut down. I wrapped myself in a towel, tossed my hair in one as well to help the long locks absorb the water, and pulled out my journal.