Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21644 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21644 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
I giggle.
“I don’t know if I believe in business lingo.”
April merely leans forward again.
“I’m serious, Colleen. Find out, for me if no one else. I’ve had it up to here with small guys who belong in junior high, so you’ve got to put two and two together!”
I giggle then, polishing off the last of my burger.
“Okay, okay, I will,” I say. “I’ll figure it out, somehow.”
April sits back with a satisfied smile.
“Good, and I’ll be waiting for you to report back.”
I salute smartly then.
“Yes, ma’am.”
With that, we both dissolve into laughter and continue with our lunch. But as we chatter aimlessly, my mind keeps wandering to the mystery that’s my neighbor Carl. I want to figure out if it’s actually him, but do I have the guts? And how will I go about hatching a plan and then putting it in motion? I smile, and then take a big bite of my chocolate cake. There must be a way, and I’m determined to figure out what it is.
3
Colleen
“I’m going for a bike ride,” I call into the living room as I walk out the front door. My bike is locked up against the fence in front, and my parents hate that because they say it detracts from our home’s “curb appeal.” But I don’t listen to Judy and Bill when it comes to matters of real estate because they’ve made some catastrophic decisions when it comes to my childhood home.
Basically, Judy and Bill almost lost our house to foreclosure about a year ago by betting on the stock market. Obviously they had no idea what they were doing, and it was only the actions of my older sister, Sarah, which saved us. In desperation, Sarah became a professional escort for a while to earn quick cash so that we could keep our house. It turned out amazing because she met her two boyfriends through the escort agency, but still. I have no respect for our parents sometimes. How could they drive their older daughter to such means?
But it’s easy to see how because Judy and Bill are totally clueless and often very inflexible. For example, I’m only going on my evening bike ride because my parents think I’m too chubby, so they’re always on me to lose weight. It’s lame. I’ve explained how BMI is not an indicator of health, but Mom and Dad won’t listen. I’ve found it’s easier just to do the bike ride to get them off my case. As a result, I unchain my bike and start off down the street.
It’s already evening, so tonight’s ride isn’t going to be terribly long. The breeze is comfortable on my skin, and I enjoy the wind tousling my hair. Our street is quiet as I turn the corner and pedal briskly, allowing myself to enjoy the scenery. There’s McCarren Park on the right, and Mrs. White’s house on the left with its red shutters. Then come the Bastini’s home, which has a pig weathervane attached to the top of the front gable. It’s pretty cute actually, and I wave merrily at the pig as I sail by.
I ride around peacefully for about half an hour as dusk descends. A gorgeous amber glow bathes the neighborhood, and I bike back up my street towards my childhood home feeling at peace. I’m slightly sweaty, but it’s been a good workout.
Suddenly, the tinny sound of music catches my ears and I realize I’m riding by Carl Jager’s house. It’s a mid-level ranch home with a two-car garage and a sparkling green lawn out front. I’ve seen Carl cutting the grass with his shirt off, and it was quite the sight to see. His bronzed chest was glistening as he pushed the lawnmower, and I have a feeling I wasn’t the only woman peeping out from behind the curtains.
But then I realize there are muffled sounds of laughter too, and I slow my bike to a stop in front of Carl’s house before looking around. Everyone else is already inside for the night, so the neighborhood is quiet, which is perfect because I want to investigate.
Quietly, I get off my bike and wheel it to the bushes at the edge of Carl’s front yard before stashing it behind a particularly big hedge. The sound of voices and laughter is louder now, and they’re definitely masculine. Slowly, I creep towards his back gate before placing my hand on the solid wood. Fortunately, with a slight jiggle, I realize that it’s unlocked, but then I pause for a moment. Am I really doing this? Am I a creeper who’s going to spy on my new neighbor like a Peeping Tom?
But as if in a trance, my hand pushes the gate open and I step inside stealthily before shutting it behind me. Carl’s property looks normal from where I stand. There’s a long concrete walkway bordering the house, which opens to his yard in the back. That must be where Carl’s relaxing with his guests.