Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
My whole apartment would fit into the room I’ve been assigned. White-and-gray wallpaper lines the walls. The big, white, fluffy comforter tossed over the king-size bed seems like a poor choice for a sweaty fighter’s bedroom, but as long as I’m not paying for the dry cleaning, I don’t care. From what I saw when Diane walked me to my room earlier, every guest room in this wing of the house is basically the same. Maybe the production company got a discount for buying the bedding and furniture in bulk. At least there’s no tacky hotel art on the walls.
I toss my bag on a purple velvet chair in the corner. My lips curve up. Molly would love this chair.
Molly. I can’t stop thinking about her. This is so messed up. I feel like the biggest fucking asshole. I can’t even call to see if she’s okay. They took my phone as soon as I got into the “limo” for the insufferable ride to Long Island.
I unzip the largest pocket of my backpack and start pulling out clothes. Hell, I don’t even know what I brought with me. Molly laid out a bunch of choices and I blindly chose whatever was closest. Having her pack for me had been a good thing. Even in all the chaos, she took time to roll my clothes into neat little bundles to maximize my packing space. How’d she get so good at packing? The longest trip she’s ever taken is to visit Hayden’s grandparents in Vermont.
Shaking my head, I explore the small walk-in closet and hang my meager wardrobe. I return to the pack and pull a pair of sneakers from the bottom pocket. Molly had rolled and stuffed socks inside them. Diane had said something about sponsors giving us all sorts of free shit and that she’d need my measurements and sizes for clothing. They probably don’t want me to look like a stray dog who wandered onto the set.
Once I put the clothes away, I explore the smaller pockets of my backpack. My hand brushes against a sharp edge, and I pull out the framed photo from my dresser. Remy, Molly, and me. I trace my finger over her face. She knew I’d want something to remind me of home. I set the frame on the nightstand so I can see it first thing in the morning. Not even annoyed I’ll have to look at Remy’s smug face too.
Paper crinkles against my fingers in the next pocket. A crumpled receipt? I pull it out and something hard hits the floor.
“Dammit.” I hurry to scoop it up before it rolls away.
I snag the bright red tube. Cherry vanilla EOS lip balm. Molly’s favorite. I stare at the receipt in my hand and frown. It’s for a car part I bought last week. I flip it over and find Molly’s neat handwriting on the back.
Griff,
Use this when you need a kiss from me. I’m so proud of you. You’ve got this!
Love always,
Your Muffin
My throat tightens. I know damn well how much she hates that I’m doing this. Hates that I’ll be away for so long. But she still wanted to be brave and encourage me. Give me the only thing she could think of during a chaotic shitstorm we never expected.
I uncap the balm. The inner tube’s a bright purple. No wonder it’s her favorite brand. I smooth the balm over my lips. It’s not Molly, but the scent is comforting in a way. I curl my hand around the tube and set it on top of the nightstand next to the photo, so it doesn’t get lost.
Jesus. Are the cameras in the house already on? Diane mentioned that there were cameras everywhere. Even in the bedrooms. Good God, are they going to air footage of me getting sentimental over a damn lip balm?
Sure enough, above the closet door, I find a small camera mounted to the wall, aimed at the bed.
The fuck? They hoping to catch me jerking off every night?
I scowl at the camera but it’s impossible to tell if it’s actually recording. Could be fake. Meant to fuck with my head.
Would they put cameras in the bathroom too? I snag my backpack off the bed and walk into the adjoining bathroom. Bet the hot water in this shower never runs out. The damn thing looks like a car wash with so many nozzles and knobs pointed in every direction.
I shut and lock the bathroom door, then do my best to scan the space for hidden cameras. When I’m satisfied no one’s gonna watch me take a piss, I dig into one of the hidden side pockets along the edge of my pack. I pry the slim zipper open and dig for the flip phone I stashed in there earlier.
It buzzes to life, and I clamp it between my hands to muffle the sound. God damn, these things are so annoying to send a simple text. But I manage to tap out a few words to Molly.