Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 41935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 210(@200wpm)___ 168(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 210(@200wpm)___ 168(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
That went great. The chef doesn’t use ceramic cookware, which Farrah insists on, so I had to go buy him a saucepan and convince him to use it to cook her meal tonight. He called me a few choice names, so I had to break out my cash stash and buy his compliance.
When I finally got back to the house, Farrah’s organic, plant-based lunch in hand, she said she fell asleep in the lounge chair and had a dream that would be a great movie plotline. She insisted on telling me about it while I took notes on my laptop so I could write up a proposal for a studio.
The chef at the house is making brick-oven pizzas to order tonight. My stomach growls angrily as I walk into the kitchen because I haven’t had time to eat today.
A chef’s assistant, Carly, sees me and smiles, going over to a stack of white boxes and taking off the one on top.
“Perfect timing. I just took yours out of the oven. One pizza with garlic, extra cheese and extra pepperoni.”
The heavenly scents of pepperoni and roasted garlic make my mouth water with anticipation. My eyes fill with tears as I take the box from Carly.
“Thank you for this. It’s been a day, and...just thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“We’ve got you, girl. Go relax and enjoy it. There’s red wine, water, tea and lemonade on the sideboard in the main dining room.”
I take a cleansing breath as I walk away, embarrassed that I almost cried over a damn pizza. My emotions must be running high. They definitely were when I unleashed my fury on Dalton.
My job is none of his business, and he really should have just kept on walking instead of sitting down to chat with me. But I may have taken some other things out on him, and that may not have been fair.
That’s an issue for Tomorrow Alice, because Today Alice has fucking had it and she deserves a big glass of wine and some pizza.
I avoid eye contact with everyone I pass as I go to the dining room to get some wine because I’m so hungry I can only think about the first bite of this pizza that smells life changing.
Fortunately, no one even tries to look at me. Everyone in the house stops Farrah or says something to her when they see her, but most of them don’t even know my name. They just call me “Farrah’s assistant” and mostly ignore me.
I’m able to make my way out to the beach, where I settle beneath an umbrella that Misty was using earlier. Sand makes a killer cup holder for my wineglass. It’s just me, the sparkling ocean near sunset, and my dinner.
The pizza is incredible. I savor every bite, eating six of the eight slices. The chef couldn’t have chosen a better night for pizzas, not just because I may have an orgasm from eating mine but also because Farrah wouldn’t have eaten this. I would’ve spent my evening getting her dinner. So I guess I kind of owe Dalton for picking her for his date.
Maybe she’ll come out of this show in a relationship. That would be great for me. When she’s dating someone, I get breaks from her when she’s on dates. The overnight ones are my favorite because I get to skip sunrise yoga and workout. But it’s been a while since she’s had a boyfriend.
An occasional date so she can be photographed and make headlines? Yes. But someone meeting her crazy high standards and making it to relationship status? Not so much.
When I’m done with dinner, I take out my phone, willing it to not have a text from Farrah.
No such luck.
Farrah: Dalton smells good. It’s making me horny.
Farrah: God I want a margarita. Must stay strong!
Farrah: Okay, if Dalton and I don’t report for yoga in the morning, don’t come to my room looking for me...
Farrah: But don’t miss yoga because I’ll wake up no matter how late we’re up.
I text back a quick okay and good luck, and then take a chance and call my brother, planning to leave him a long check-in voicemail.
“Hey, Alice,” he says.
I smile, the sound of his voice reminding me of home. “Wow, you answered. Are you on a break from saving people?”
“I just got off a fifteen-hour shift. I’m walking to the train. It’s good to hear your voice. How are you?”
I sigh softly. “Kind of wishing we’d been born identical twins instead of fraternal so we could swap places. You would’ve scrubbed the crotch of another person’s undies with your hands today and been called a provincial fucking fool by a French chef.”
“Okay, not ideal. But you would have removed a screwdriver handle from a guy’s ass, so...”
I laugh. “Stop it, you did not.”