Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 29029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
That’s simply icing on the cake.
I just hope I can handle the fact that once I eat that icing, it won’t be coming back.
8
JENNA
A one-hundred-dollar bill.
I couldn’t believe it. A block away from the Garretts’ house, where I was babysitting. I cut through the wetland area, where Max and I used to chase praying mantises when we were in elementary school. He never minded that I was a tomboy who hated the color pink, hated wearing dresses. My hair was long, but it was always pulled back in a braid that hung down my back.
I wasn’t afraid of squishy things and worms and grasshoppers and praying mantises.
Every time I cut through this area, I remember those days.
And tonight is prom. Prom with Max.
I got screwed over by my boyfriend of three years, and though I’ve been on a few dates this year, in the end, I chose to go to the prom with Max. My best friend, Max. What a wonderful way to end our senior year of high school. Together.
So when I see the hundred-dollar bill on the ground, I make a grab for it.
I can’t possibly be this lucky. I’ll be able to help pay for the limo that he ordered. He’s been quite the gentleman, refusing to let me pay for anything. Other than my dress, of course. All my babysitting money went toward the light purple sequined number that fits me like a glove. I’ll wear my hair up, and Mom is lending me her diamond drop earrings.
Max and I aren’t prom king and queen material, but we’re going to look damned good.
A giant grin splits my face. A hundred bucks! What luck! I shove it in the pocket of my jeans, and—
Something feels weird on my fingertips. I brush off some white powder. That’s strange.
But no biggie. I’m a hundred dollars richer, and I continue walking through the shortcut. It’s spring, so no praying mantises yet, but wildflowers are beginning to poke their heads through the moist dirt—mostly sunflowers with bright yellow petals and dark eyes in the middle.
Funny…
The sunflowers are growing taller.
Even as I’m walking. Am I even walking? I look down. My feet are on the ground…until they’re not. They’re floating…and I’m not sure they’re attached to my legs anymore.
I smile as I look to the sky.
The sun glares at me, an almost angry glare.
I don’t like the angry feeling, so I look back at the sunflowers. They surround me, like a halo, negating the angry orb.
And I smile again because I feel good. Like the world is finally at peace.
I awaken.
When did I fall asleep? I have to get ready for prom!
I jerk upward in bed, expecting to see my prom dress hanging on the back of my door where I left it this morning.
But the back of my door is bare.
In fact…the back of my door…is not the back of my door.
And this isn’t my room. It’s empty. Gray. No desk. No closet door hanging open, clothes strewn on the floor. No Justin Timberlake on the wall.
My head…
My head is… Not aching, but… Not right.
I feel… I feel… I—
The door opens. Only then do I realize I’m naked. Naked in a strange bed, and—
“I’m here to take care of your problem,” a man says.
I gasp.
I scream, pulling a threadbare blanket over my body to cover myself.
It doesn’t help. Nothing helps. I’m naked. Vulnerable. In a strange place. With a strange man. A strange man whose face is a blur, but I can see his teeth. They seem to glow.
“You were examined when you were brought here. Your hymen is still intact. I paid a great sum of money to take care of that for you. I’m looking forward to it.” He stalks toward the bed, his eyes menacing.
And I scream again.
9
MAX
It’s Saturday evening.
I hired a professional housekeeper to clean my place. I want it perfect for Jenna. I don’t want it smelling like single man—a term Mimi coined. She said my place smells like single man. I never could tell what she meant. To me, it smelled the same as her place—like Ivory soap and the remnants of last night’s dinner.
Now it smells like cinnamon and cloves from the spices the housekeeper simmered while she was here.
Jenna is coming here. I wanted to pick her up, but then I decided not to make the offer.
This isn’t a date, and I’ll do well to remember that.
I can’t get caught up in my love for her. This is a service I’m providing. Simply a service. That’s the way she sees it, and I must not lose sight of that.
I did take the liberty of preparing a small meal—a simple shrimp cocktail and a green salad. She won’t want to feel bloated. Does she still like Chardonnay?
It used to be her favorite wine. Not that either of us had a lot of experience with alcohol back then, but Susanna loved Chardonnay, and she sometimes let Jenna drink a tiny cordial glass on the weekends. An oaky one from California is chilling. It will go well with the shrimp and salad.