Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“Hey, buddy.” I scratch his chin. “Looking for company?”
The front door across the road opens. A woman with red hair cropped short on the top and longer on the sides exits. She wears skinny, stonewashed jeans and a yellow T-shirt with a white daisy missing a petal. The slogan reads, I love you not.
“Hi,” she says, waving as she crosses the road. “I see you’ve met Tiger.”
Yellow flipflops with plastic daisies on the straps fall in my line of vision as she stops in front of me. She rides on the balls of her feet, her hands shoved into the back pockets of her jeans.
Stretching one arm toward me with the military swiftness of a sergeant major, she offers me a hand. “I’m Zelda. I saw the moving truck yesterday. Thought I’d pop over and welcome you to the neighborhood.”
I judge her to be in her early twenties. Crossing my legs to cover my scars, I shake her hand. “That’s kind of you.”
She sits down next to me and motions at my ring finger. “Newlyweds?”
“Yes,” I say, trying to smile around the word. “How about you?”
“I live with my boyfriend, Sam.” She leans closer and says from the corner of her mouth, “Don’t tell him, but we actually live with Tiger.”
The cat purrs and rubs his face against my knee when I stroke him. “He’s cute.”
“She didn’t mean that, Tiger,” she says to the cat before continuing in a loud voice, “He’s a vicious hunter.” Cupping a hand over her mouth, she whispers, “He’s sensitive about the topic since we got him the bell. Hasn’t succeeded in shredding a bird to pieces since, and it’s been hard on his self-image.”
“Oh,” I say, suppressing a laugh. “I can see how that can have a negative impact on a cat’s self-esteem.”
“He used to bring home mice and rats and snakes all the time.” She pets him and adds in a voice reserved for people who are hard of hearing, “Good kitty cat.” Lowering her volume again, she continues, “They say you should praise them for the gifts they bring you.”
“Have you lived here for long?”
“Six months. Your husband seems to be a very private person. We haven’t seen him around much.”
I shift my weight. “He works a lot.”
“One of those.” She nudges my shoulder. “How about you?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m looking.”
“Tough job market, right? What are you looking for?”
“I studied fine arts.”
She whistles. “Won’t be easy to find something in that field. Do you have anything in mind?”
“Not yet.”
I don’t mention we just got married today. People who aren’t as twisted as Leon and I may think it strange that my husband left for the office half an hour after our wedding.
“If I hear of anything, I’ll let you know,” she says.
“Thanks. I appreciate that. As you’re here hanging out with me, I take it you’re not bound to an office either.”
She shrugs. “We’re trying for a baby. Sam and I agree that one of us should be home full time as a caregiver if we’re taking on such a huge responsibility, so there’s no point in looking for a job right now.”
“Wow,” I say, fumbling for words. I can’t imagine bringing children into my world.
She blushes. “I know I’m young, but Sam is on the mature side and not getting younger.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to sound judgmental. I just battled to picture myself in the role. If you’re ready, you can’t be too young.”
“Right.” She tickles Tiger’s belly, who flops onto his back and attacks her fingers. “Try to tell my mom that.”
“You both want the same thing. That’s great.”
It strikes me then how different what Leon and I want is. Leon wants to work himself up in Gus’s company. I want to escape with my mom and run from the very lives Gus and Leon are creating.
“I was just going to make a salad for lunch,” I say on impulse. “Would you like to join me?”
“I’ll take a raincheck.” Zelda grins. “I’m having lunch with Sam today.” She wags her eyebrows. “And then we’re working on Project Baby before he needs to get back to work.”
I almost flinch. That was a little more information than I needed.
She hops to her feet and waves her fingers. “See you around, um, oh, what’s your name?”
“Violet. Violet Sta—” I clear my throat. “Violet Hart.”
She props her hands on her hips and says as if it’s a good thing, “It takes getting used to, huh?”
My smile is half-hearted. I can’t even lie about it convincingly.
“I’m making chicken breasts on pita bread with grilled brie and caramelized chilies,” she says, skipping backward to her house. “Apparently it stimulates your sex appetite. Let me know if you want the recipe.”
“Leon doesn’t eat chicken,” I call back.
“Too bad,” she says, giving me a conspiratorial smile before heading inside.