Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Besides, we’ve always been supportive of one another’s careers, and to my delight, we’ve formed a strong friendship as well. Kristie immediately proposed coffee when I called her sobbing, and I’m grateful for her kind ear.
“So Karl wants you to marry him,” she says in a low voice, still tearing at her cinnamon bun. “But what do you want, Ainsley?”
My eyes tear up suddenly, and I angrily dash them away.
“I want to kill Justin West, that’s what I want,” I manage in a shaking voice. Kristie nods, sympathetic.
“Of course but that’s not possible, Ains. You’re not going to become a murderer and go away to jail for umpteen years. You’re you, and I’m sure the hullaballoo will blow over.”
I shake my head, tears still leaking from my eyes.
“But everyone thinks that I’m a Nazi sympathizer! It’s all over the gossip sites, Kris. The influencers literally went to the Secretary of State’s website, and dug up the LLC’s incorporation papers. Sure enough, my name is on them, right next to Justin’s, and everyone’s blaming me for buying the Superbowl spot.”
Kristie shakes her head.
“But it doesn’t even make sense. Everyone knows that Justin West was controlling you. He’s a billionaire rapper, and you’re just an aspiring model! Power imbalance, anyone? Plus, whenever you showed up at events, you were like a zombie, girlfriend. That man was feeding you drugs.”
“No, I wasn’t on drugs,” I correct sadly. “I was just so upset that he made me wear those naked dresses that I was disassociating. I’d pretend I wasn’t there, although maybe I should have insisted on drugs to get me through the evening. I hear ketamine is great for that.”
Kristie shakes her head, her blonde hair swaying.
“No, no,” she says in a firm voice. “No ketamine, Adderall, or Xanax needed. Honestly, sweetie, I’m not sure what we can do about the Nazi rumors. They have taken down the site, right?”
I nod miserably.
“Prowler went dark as soon as Shopify realized what was going on. They shut that down fast.”
Kristie nods slowly, her expression thoughtful.
“Okay, at least that’s over and done with. But again, I’m not sure what we can do to dispel rumors that you’re not anti-semitic. You know how these internet sleuths are. They find something and immediately hold it aloft as the be all, end all of truth, justice, and righteousness. It’s disgusting, if you ask me, especially since a lot of them are trolls sitting in front of computer monitors all day. I wouldn’t be so quick to judge, if I were them.”
I nod sadly.
“I know,” is my soft voice. “I just wish there was something I could do.”
“Well, there is something,” Kristie says in an encouraging voice. “You can get married to Karl! You love him, right? You want to make babies with the gorgeous Swede, and have little tow-headed kids running all over the place.”
I swallow hard because this might be the toughest part of all. Tears come to my eyes again, and to my dismay, the sobs start all over again.
“I do love Karl,” I say in a choked voice. “He’s everything to me, and shown me what love is about. But I don’t want to pull him into my mess. Everyone thinks I’m a Nazi sympathizer now, and they’re going to think that he is too, if he marries me. He deserves better than that.”
Kristie is silent for a moment.
“Maybe, but does he care?” my friend asks in a gentle tone. “I mean, Karl knows you. He knows you don’t have an antisemitic bone in your body. He knows the truth about what happened with those swastika sweatshirts, so maybe it doesn’t matter.”
“I know,” I say immediately, wiping at my cheeks. “He says he loves me no matter how this turns out, and supports me a hundred percent. But the problem is that I don’t want to do this to him!” I wail, uncaring that people are beginning to look at us in the café. “Karl deserves better. He’s so tall and handsome, and kind and honorable too. He deserves a woman who’s not tainted, who will give him beautiful Swedish babies as they ride off into the sunset. They deserve to live in a gorgeous Scandinavian-style house filled with blond wood furniture and plenty of light. They’ll drink piping hot cups of cocoa in the winter and snuggle into thick blankets as part of Swedish hygge culture.”
“Okay, I think you’re too into the Swedish stuff,” my friend says in a droll tone. “Karl is a sexy former military guy, so I can’t really see him sipping hot cocoa from a mug with a heart on it, like in an Ikea catalog. But that’s neither here nor there,” she says quickly. “What matters is that you love him, and that he’s supporting you through this tragedy. I mean, this tragicomedy,” Kristie corrects quickly, trying to make the best of the situation.