Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I’ve procured my own tent now, which I’ve mounted next to Tim’s. I’ve gotten to know him well. He ended up here because he fell desperately in love with a woman who did not return his affections. He spent every last dollar he had on her to appease her, but she spurned every fine piece of jewelry, every lavish fur. He turned to alcoholic beverages and other illicit substances to numb the pain she left in her wake. Eventually he lost his house, his car, all his belongings, and still the woman wanted nothing to do with him.
He tells me she stole his heart, that there now exists only a chasmic void in the space behind his ribs. Of course, I know this to be a biological impossibility, but he insists it is the case.
I have trouble empathizing. I’ve never loved a woman, not in the way Tim describes. I understand that there exists a physical closeness between man and woman with which they express their love for one another, but I’ve yet to experience it. Tim says it’s like a sneeze, but in the most pleasurable way. I rarely sneeze, so again I have little to draw on.
Tim tells me about hearing voices in his head, which he believes are the government trying to read his mind. The cans and the tinfoil hat help, but even then, they’re no match for the machines that the reptilians in Washington have at their disposal. Again, I don’t experience what Tim does, but perhaps my thoughts aren’t as valuable to the president as Tim’s.
One bright Tuesday morning, we are taking our daily walk along the Des Plaines River when a devastatingly beautiful woman with vivid red hair wrapped in a silk scarf approaches us.
She takes off her large sunglasses and grins. “Gentlemen. May I have a quick word?”
Tim frowns. “What do you want?”
“Just a quick conversation. I received intel from a colleague of mine, Austin Waverly, that there was a population of people in need of steady work living in this area.”
At the mention of the colleague’s name, Tim cocks an eyebrow, but he doesn’t say anything in response.
She turns to me, extends her long-fingered hand. “Enchanté. My name is Rouge Montrose.”
I blink a few times. “Chester Tabbitt. Chet for short.”
“Chet. I like the sound of that.” She turns to Tim. “And you, my good sir?”
“Timothy Mann,” he says coldly. He doesn’t shake her hand.
“A pleasure, Mr. Mann.” Rouge Montrose says. “As I said, I’m in desperate need of loyal employees for two of my business ventures. I have an opening at my flagship club, Aces Underground, and another at one of my secondaries, the Jade Sanctum.”
Again, Tim raises an eyebrow at the name of the second club. “The Jade Sanctum?”
“You’re familiar?”
Tim crosses his arms. “I have some friends who are.”
“Then you must count among your friends some people with exquisite taste.” Rouge offers a dazzling smile, but the crinkles in her cheeks don’t match the crinkles in her eyes. “Perhaps you would be interested in that position, Mr. Mann?”
“I’d be willing to discuss it,” Tim says flatly.
“Lovely.” Rouge turns to me. “And you, Mr. Tabbitt—”
“Chet, please.”
“Of course. Chet. Would you be interested in the position at Aces?”
I offer her a grin. “What would said position entail?”
She smirks. “You’re quite eloquent for a man of your economic status.”
“Thank you.” I believe that was meant to be a compliment.
Rouge twiddles with a ring on her left index finger. “Both positions are as servers. Waiters in the clubs I run. You would take drink orders from patrons, serve them, collect some handsome tips. Housing would be provided while you get yourselves back on your feet. There is also the potential for making additional money by entertaining club patrons.”
“What do you mean by that?” Tim asks.
“We’ll iron out the details later,” Rouge says quickly. “But for now, can I pen you both down as interested? We can go from there.”
I look back at the nature preserve behind me, at the haggard little tent I pilfered from a thrift store to keep me dry in the wet. I suppose I don’t want to live like this forever, and every attempt I’ve made at this point to secure employment has yielded no results. Now, out of the blue, this catastrophically striking woman has come down like an angel from the Beyond to offer me help, a place to sleep.
And I would still be able to see Tim while we’re off work. I imagine we’d be put up in the same place.
“I’m interested,” I say brightly.
Tim sighs. “I guess I am too.”
“Excellent. Mr. Mann, I can put you to work straight away as the Jade Sanctum is open six nights a week.” She refixes her attention toward me. “And you, Mr. Tabbitt, can report to Aces Underground at six o’clock sharp this Friday.”