Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“I have no idea. I have no idea how your generation does things.”
“What does that mean?” I roll my eyes. “You’re not a hundred years old.”
She shrugs. “You kids do things different, that’s all I’m saying. You slide into each other’s DMs and comment on social media instead of meeting people the old-fashioned way.”
I state the obvious: “Times have a way of changing how we do things.”
“It’s nice meeting a gal by bumping into her at the grocery store or being set up by a friend.”
“Bumping into a gal—like, say, in Central Park?” I grin. “See? You just proved my point.” I’m getting excited all over again. “That’s how I met Harlow, and instead of text bombing her and doing everything on social media—or through agents, the way I’ve done that shit in the past—I’m actually . . . you know, showing up. In person and being present.”
“Landon Burke—you are in the middle of going to a new team. You do not have time to start a new relationship, let alone go gallivanting around the countryside, popping up at unsuspecting young women’s houses.”
Gallivanting. Ha!
I sigh. “I won’t be young and healthy forever, Mom. My career could end tomorrow, and the last thing I want to keep doing is going home to an empty apartment. I can’t even have plants, they all die.” I hesitate. “What if I break my leg or collarbone or tear something? Then what? I’m done. The best I can hope for is a career anchoring a commentary show.”
Mom thinks this through. “You’re right.” She’s nodding, which I take as a good sign. “You’re absolutely right. I’m just . . . scared, I guess. You’re larger than life, and we just want someone to appreciate that about you. Who wants you for you and not all”—she waves her hands around—“the stuff.”
“Ma. I met her in the park, and I’m about to show up on her doorstep. Let’s just hope she doesn’t think I’m a complete fucking nutjob and call the police—’cause that would be a real pisser.”
Chapter 20
Harlow
“Kevin! Kevin, no.”
There’s a fancy new hole in the yard where grass used to be, the dog’s paws and snout completely covered with dirt.
“He’s bored,” a voice tells me, and I turn my head to find Lydia, the next-door neighbor girl, peering at me over the hedgerow that separates my yard from her parents’ yard.
“Gee, ya think?” I have my hand on the dial of the grill, my plan to fire it up fizzling when I realize I don’t have enough propane in my little tank and no motivation to unscrew it and take it in to town for a refill.
“Want me to take him for a walk?” She’s wearing a knit winter hat with a ball on top, even though it’s barely fall, and a hot-pink hoodie.
“Nah, that’s okay, maybe later. I was going to grill some chicken, but I can’t get the grill to work. I think I’ll take the little turd for a ride since I have nothing else for dinner.” But still too lazy to fill the propane tank.
Lydia pushes forward, squeezing through the bush until she pops out into my yard, bending at the waist to call the dog.
“Kevin, come!”
Kevin immediately listens, stopping in his tracks to then run to the neighbor.
The traitor.
I have to call him at least five times to get him to listen. Dad says I have to work with him more. Which is true—I do. Just like a man, dogs need to be trained. Ha!
I make a mental note to find the time to teach the little bastard a few simple commands so he won’t embarrass me again by running to his dog sitter but not to me.
Kevin jumps, licking Lydia’s face when she squats down to his level, wanting belly rubs. It’s as if he hasn’t seen Lydia in months. The reality is, it’s been days. So busy am I with the app, I’ll often have her walk him or take him to the dog park so he can burn off some energy.
“What a good boy,” she coos. “Good boy, Kevin!”
“Oh please—look at his face, he’s covered in dirt.” I pause, closing the grill cover.
“He doesn’t find dirt—dirt finds him.”
“Don’t defend him.” I laugh. “That doesn’t make him any less messy.”
“I know, but it helps. Doesn’t it, Kevin, doesn’t it?” She lets him lick her face, something I never let him do. No wonder he likes her better. “How was New York? We didn’t have time to talk when you got home last week.”
“It was good.”
“You’re not going to take Kevin and move halfway across the country when your app blows up, are you?” She scratches my dog on the chin, and he grins from ear to ear. “Move to the city?”
I give my head a shake. “I don’t think I’ll be moving anytime soon.”