Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
I step out of the shower, dry myself off, and stare at my naked body in the mirror. I’ve got a fit, well-proportioned body and a big dick. But what else do I have to offer? I swear, if I knew what to do, I’d have done it by now. At this point, the only thing I know for sure is that I’d better come up with something soon, or I can kiss my spot in the vet program goodbye.
6
AUGGIE
“Good boy. Now, go get it, buddy!”
I toss Lucky’s red rubber ball again across the grass for him to fetch, and he hops away gleefully to chase it down. I’m sitting on a large lawn underneath a shady tree on-campus, taking a break from my daily walk with Lucky to people-watch and think.
Usually, when I’m out with Lucky, I’ve got my earbuds in and a podcast going. But today, I’ve been brainstorming in silence, hoping the lack of aural stimulation will allow my brain to finally come up with The Big Idea. The magic bullet that will get my Superhero Salami Slinger account cooking with gas. If I can’t figure out something soon, I’ll be fucked.
Just as Lucky drops his little ball in front of me, a couple friends from the vet program stop and say hi. When one of them tries to pet Lucky, the poor little guy hides behind me, quaking in fear, so I explain his background—his year at a shelter and likely abuse before then—and the resulting anxiety he now feels around all strangers; and my friend kindly gives Lucky the space he needs.
My friends sit down for a bit, and we chat about our upcoming exams. And then, about our mutual anxiety surrounding those all-important summer internships. When those topics have run their course, we move on to talking about our plans for the upcoming weekend. One of my friends says she’s attending her niece’s sixth birthday party on Saturday, and that her sister, the birthday girl’s mother, has hired a “princess” to show up and make her daughter and all her little friends lose their shit. Laughing, we muse about the power of princesses and fairytales, and we all agree it’d be awesome if, as adults, we could still be that easy to thrill.
Whoa.
I suddenly feel like I’ve been struck by a lightning bolt.
My Big Idea.
I think I’ve got it!
I tell my friends I’d better get back home to study, so they get up and say their goodbyes. As they’re walking away, I grab my phone and run a couple searches—and what comes up confirms I’m on to something.
“Come on, Lucky. Playtime’s over, little buddy.” There’s no need to attach a leash to Lucky’s collar to make him hop along after me. Since Grandma died, my little tripod follows me wherever I go. So, I simply shove Lucky’s rubber ball in the pocket of my hoodie and take off in the direction of my building. I’ll need to swing by a craft store before getting started and make a few things, as best I can. But once I do all that, it should be easy enough to execute my idea and see if it pans out.
My mind is racing now. Fleshing things out. Pun intended. In fact, by the time I’m turning the corner onto my street, I’ve already figured out my first two shows. Holy shit, I think this could work.
I stop dead in my tracks. Is that Charlotte walking up the pathway to my building? I resume walking, eager to get a closer look. If that’s Charlotte, then she’s changed out of her splattered white jumpsuit from this morning. This particular redhead’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt. But, wait, the woman walking alongside her is definitely the pregnant brunette from Captain’s yesterday. And that’s definitely Charlotte’s ass in profile. Not that I’ve memorized it or anything. It’s just that it was hard not to notice it when she was marching away maniacally and swinging her hips.
Yep, that’s definitely Charlotte. How’d she track me down? Must have been from my car’s license plate. Did she come here to demand payment for that long list of bullshit she rattled off after the tow truck left? I bet that’s it. And that makes her fucking demented.
I pick up Lucky, since he gets freaked out around strangers, and stride toward the two women. When I get within earshot, I yell, “You’re stalking me now?”
The redhead turns toward me, confirming she is, indeed, the infuriating demon who made me late for the most important interview of my life this morning. And when she sees my angry glare, she hisses, “You. What the fuck are you doing here?”
Ignoring her question—because, come on, she knows why I’m here, or else she wouldn’t be here—I grit out, “I’m not paying you a dime, so don’t even bother asking. I didn’t get my dream internship today, thanks to you and your fake knee injury, so by my calculations, you owe me as much or more than I could possibly owe you for accidentally spilling coffee on you.”