Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Wow. My little cake shop. The business I’d thrown every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears I had into. The fact was, I cleared more with my “little cake shop” than he made with his real estate ventures. I suspected it was the same smarmy personality I initially fell for. Unlike me, apparently his clients knew how to cut their losses and get the fuck out of Dodge.
“I guess so,” I said, because what else was there? I stabbed a piece of pork chop and chewed it, even though I could barely swallow, doing my best to act as if none of this had any effect on me.
His phone buzzed again. He actually reached for it this time. “I’m going to head out. I’ve got to call Gary back before he does something stupid on that listing.” He didn’t even look at me. Just stood up, fixed his jacket, and checked his hair in the microwave door reflection. “I’ll send someone to get my stuff later.” The door clicked shut behind him as he left.
I went to the counter where the little birthday cake rested when the sticker on the side caught my attention. The damned thing was on clearance! He’d bought me a generic birthday cake on clearance because it had passed its freshness date.
For a minute I just stood there, stomach clenched tight in the heavy silence. Anger was slow in coming. Even when it did the feeling was directed more at myself than Brett. I chose to stay with him for whatever reason I had at any given time. So as much as Brett was a bastard, this disastrous birthday was as much my fault as it was his. I should never have agreed to let him move in with me. My only excuse is I was young and bought all his flattering.
We’d been together for two and a half years. I was right out of high school and just taking over my grandmother’s bakery after her sudden death. Brett had helped me through one of the most difficult times in my life, but I suspected now he’d taken up with me because I was an easy target. After all, he’d been living rent-free in what had been my grandmother’s apartment since a month or so after we met.
The window over the sink stared back at me. This was my twenty-first birthday, Goddamnit! What did one do on their twenty-first birthday? Get schnozzled and burn the world down? At least I’d burn down my old life. Then I could rise like a phoenix from the ashes. Or something.
I pushed away from the sink and headed to my bedroom. Going to the closet, I pulled out the red dress I’d bought especially for tonight. The red was probably too bright, but I didn’t want subtle. I wanted the color and all the lovely brightness and chaos it might cause under the right circumstances.
I showered and did my hair and makeup before slipping the silky dress over my head, letting it settle over my hips to brush against the middle of my thighs. I zipped up the back, then smoothed the sleeveless garment over my curves. I let my hand run down my arm, tracing the small, faded burn scars from my childhood. Brett said I should get them lasered -- so I wouldn’t be reminded of my broken childhood. I suspected the real reason he wanted rid of them was because they didn’t fit in with his image of what he wanted me to be. Well, fuck that shit.
The red lipstick came last. Again, I’d chosen it specially to match the dress. I drew it on slowly, even though my hand shook a little. Lipstick had always been my armor. I had nicely shaped lips. They were my best feature, in my opinion. The dramatic color only enhanced them. I smiled into the mirror, wide and mean, red as a warning label.
I started to slide my feet into the Fuck Me heels I’d purchased -- again, specifically for this dress. Then I caught a glimpse of my motorcycle boots. I’d bought them when Brett decided he wanted to get a motorcycle. He’d taken me on exactly one ride, saying I didn’t know how to ride with him and I would get us both killed if I moved the wrong way. He’d never bothered to tell me what exactly I was doing wrong, so fuck him anyway. On a whim, I stuffed my feet into the boots and took a look at myself in the mirror. I didn’t quite look like Alice from Resident Evil, but it was close enough I’d take it.
Throttle was less than a mile away. The bar was a known roughneck place, but any damage caused by patrons always seemed to be contained to the property itself and didn’t spill over into nearby neighborhoods. Though it had a questionable reputation, I’d always wanted to go, thinking living on the wild side held just the appeal I wanted.