Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
How could he?
How could he treat her like she was a piece of trash on the bottom of his shoe?
If he wasn’t dead, I’d kill him.
I’d wrap my hands around his throat and choke the absolute hell out of him.
I started my run.
My end goal of the circus in my mind.
The run was total trash.
I should’ve listened to my rational mind and not bothered, but I couldn’t.
I just couldn’t.
And I paid for it by the time I dragged myself into the grounds that would one day be our new circus location.
Though, now that I was looking at the huge banner that was being put up, I knew that if it was up to me, we’d never use that name again.
We’d start over new.
New circus. New permanent location. New staff and new overall feel.
No longer would we be affiliated with that piece of filth.
That would be the first thing I brought up at our next weekly meeting.
Today’s meeting that we had in less than an hour wouldn’t be for that kind of discussion.
No, tonight was all about the fears and the concerns that we had that my father was involved in human trafficking.
Next week was enough time to tell them that either we changed the name, or I didn’t want mine associated with Singh Circus any longer.
I didn’t care if we never saw another dime from the estate.
It was all blood money anyway.
At least, that was the way it felt.
And, to make matters worse, I now had to come up with a last name. Because though Crimson Eurie, my actual first and middle name, were okay—even though I wanted to change every letter of the name that man had given me and delete it from my mind forever—I still needed a last name. A nice, normal, never going to have to spell it for anyone ever again, kind of name.
I started weaving my way through the construction areas and future sites of permanent little booths.
“Hello, darling girl,” one of the construction workers, I believe his name was Tanner, said. “How are you today?”
I waved and patted him on the shoulder. “I’m well, Tanner. How are you?”
I’d learned last week that was his first job out of high school, and his little dimples were adorably cute.
“You remembered my name,” he flashed me a grin, bumping my hip with his.
I remembered everyone’s name. I didn’t know why or how, but I never forgot a name or a face. It was a superpower, what could I say.
I nodded. “I did. Have a good one.”
My first stop of the day was the costume designer.
I got to the building with five minutes to spare and made my way inside.
“You’re late,” he snapped.
I wasn’t late.
But I’d been dealing with this dude for fifteen years now.
His version of late and my version of late were completely different things.
If I was five minutes ahead of schedule, I was late. If I was fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, I was late. If I got there when he got there, I was late. If I arrived before he got there, then I was on time.
None of those scenarios, except for the last one, were acceptable to him and none of the scenarios, except for the first one, were acceptable to me. We would always agree to disagree.
Or I would ignore his comment and he would keep harping on it until either I acknowledged my lateness or I left.
And trust me, I would be leaving before giving this man an apology.
I couldn’t stand him.
Hadn’t been able to stand him since he started pointing out how much harder it was for him to have to give me extra room for my ‘fat rolls.’
Honestly, if he weren’t so freakin’ good at not only designing costumes, but also making them and getting them out in an appropriate amount of time, then I would’ve suggested we find someone else a long time ago.
“I’m here,” I said instead of any apologies he might be waiting for. “Do you have the costume ready?”
He sneered at me, as if he was completely offended I’d even ask him that, and ripped it up off the table and threw it at me. “Go try it on.”
I winced when one of the sequins hit my eyeball.
Narrowing my eyes at him, I said, “If you ever throw something at me again, you’re fired.”
“You won’t fire me.” He laughed, rolling his eyes as he did and giving me his back.
“Actually,” I said, “I have full support to fire and hire anyone, thank you very much. I was made chief logistics of personnel. I can and will let you go if you ever do something like that again. To me. To my sisters. To my brother. To the freakin’ tooth fairy.”
He huffed.
“And an apology for doing this in the first place wouldn’t go remiss,” I continued.