Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
It was late, well after midnight. The dark sky filtering through the windows added to the allure of the scene Slade built. Lamps glowed, guiding my path from the bedroom to the kitchen where Slade put the final touches on the meal he’d made. Based on the aroma, he knew his way around a kitchen, which again, compared to me, spoke of a Michelin-worthy meal I was about to receive.
“Best shower I’ve ever had,” I said, taking a barstool.
Slade’s absent stare lifted from the steaming colander of spaghetti noodles in the spotless sink. But I lost his attention when he flipped on the cool water, carefully running the hot noodles underneath.
“Yeah? You should try the shower in my New York City home. It makes that one look like a water fountain.” His sincere smile, the one I was learning I liked the most, quirked the corner of his lips. “Grab a drink. I’m almost finished.”
I didn’t budge. After the few I had last night, I had chosen to continue my sobriety for as long as life was giving me lemonade.
“You live out here all by yourself?” I asked, watching Slade grab an oven mitt and carefully remove a sheet pan from the oven rack, roasted broccoli on top. It smelled incredible.
“In theory, yes, I’m out here alone, but I do have security monitoring that has a general eye on my place and the surroundings. This is as alone as I ever am anymore, so I take it as if no one’s here. They don’t make contact unless something has happened.”
“Has anything ever happened?” I asked.
“Only once. The first year I was here, security caught some older teenagers planning to camp out close to the house. They didn’t know I’d moved in and planned to have a big party. It didn’t take much to thwart their plans.” The grin was back again. Whatever memory created such a reaction remained unsaid.
“I’m pickin’ up that you might not be happy as an actor,” I said, curious.
Slade took two plates from the cupboard, handing me one. “I can dish this all up and we can eat at the table, or you can make a plate, and we eat at the island. Which one?”
“I’ll make a plate. Seems like I’ll need less manners if we eat at the island.” I found myself saying the truth, the one that made me reconsider driving out here tonight. It was getting increasingly difficult to come into Slade’s world. Even with the rustic feel, Slade lived a far more sophisticated life than anything I understood.
Slade’s laughter was everything I hoped for. “You’re perfect the way you are,” he said, handing me a set of tongs to gather my noodles. “I enjoy acting. Bringing a character to life is pure joy. The problem’s everything else. I’ve become something I don’t understand or like. I don’t know. It’s a lot. I’m thankful for the opportunity…” Slade said, his hip resting on the edge of the counter, watching me build my dinner.
“I get it. The world’s dark…”
“Exactly,” Slade said. “There’s never a time to let my guard down.”
“After I met you, I drove a ways to the closest Walmart to buy the magazines you’re—”
Slade cut me off again, moving closer as I topped the noodles with sauce.
“You thought of me after we met?” The spoon was halfway back to the pot when I stopped short at his happy tone. His hand came to rest on my hip. “Can you see the resemblance of me now compared to those images?”
Instead of answering that question that could lead to me fawning all over him, I asked, “Which do you like better?”
“No one’s ever asked me that question,” Slade said and began filling his plate after I finished. “I prefer longer hair and a beard. I can’t grow one as well as I need to. They’ll fill it in for me. I’ll wear a hairpiece until my hair grows out.”
I gathered the silverware and retook my seat, remembering enough to place the napkin in my lap. “How did you get involved in actin’?”
“My mom entered me in a Calvin Klein model search. She didn’t tell me until I was selected for the final round. I won and made a commercial that aired during the Super Bowl,” Slade said, placing his plate close to mine. “Water, wine, or beer?”
“Water,” I said, only then seeing the glass of wine he’d brought with him.
“Do you mind if I have a glass of wine?” he asked, going to the refrigerator.
“I don’t care. I drink quite a bit so I’m givin’ my body a break,” I explained, my mouth watering as I took a large heaping forkful. Flavor burst through my mouth. The spaghetti sauce was complex yet simple, delicious, and my eyes connected with his.
“You like it?” he asked, placing a water bottle close to my plate. “It’s a recipe my mom made. A secret recipe.”