Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
“What? No assumptions or snippy remarks based on his appearance? Playboy? Fuckboy? Cheater?”
“No. From what you described, he’s financially stable, has no children, never been married, but he still has some red flags. I’ll just bide my time and hope that I don’t have to put him on the R.I.P. list, too.”
“Well thank you for being so gracious, and not falling into a Negative Nancy spiral. I’m so honored, Squidward.”
Rosie rolled her eyes as she shoved her phone in her purse. “Ain’t nobody that good lookin’, that good in bed, single, well-off, and kid-less runnin’ around here without some red flags. Don’t get me wrong, you know I think you’re beautiful. Most of the world would probably agree with me. More importantly, you’re a good person, and if anyone deserves a fairytale ending, it’s you, but somethin’ smells rotten in Denmark. That mothafucka either has a rotten past or rotten present. Either way, I’m hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst. CHECK PLEASE!”
Roman sat with his leg stretched out as his colleagues passed plates during an early dinner at Prime, a steak and sushi house in Houston. They were celebrating a new contract. Another round of beers was placed on the table. He twirled a toothpick between his teeth as he glared ahead at another table across the room. There sat Grandpa, dripping in jewels. The old man sported a dark red suit jacket, and a matching cowboy hat atop his head with black diamonds all around it. He had six men with him, all dressed in dark suits, guns on hips. Boisterous laughter erupted from their table. Grandpa realized he’d spotted him and was staring at him. The old son of a bitch wanted this.
“And that’s when that gal said, ‘The fan is still on!” Grandpa roared and slapped the table, laughing at his own joke. Of course, all of his ass lickers and professional butt kissers laughed too, howling as if it were the best joke they’d ever been told. Grandpa hooked his gaze with his pair of steely blue demonic crystal balls for eyes. Grandpa tilted his head, and his silky white and silver beard shifted and flowed like a white satin gown. Thick strands of hair streamed from his hat, draping along his shoulders, then disappeared like a shawl made of freshly fallen snow along his back. They stared at one another for a good while, until Grandpa broke the menacing moment with a cheeky grin. He curled his beringed finger in his direction, inviting him to come over.
“That’s my boy over there. Mr. Wallstreet.” The six men all turned to him at the same time. “THAT’S MY ACCOMPLISHED, REVERED, AMAZIN’ GRANDSON, ROMAN WILDE!” Grandpa yelled proudly, as if he were attending some college graduation. Roman’s contemporaries drew quiet and looked over at the table, some appearing rather perplexed.
“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Roman stood tall from his seat and unbuttoned his suit jacket. “I need to say hello to my grandfather,” a few nodded in understanding, then began talking and laughing again. Roman made his way over to the sounds of Dj Day & Miles Bonny’s, ‘Still Miles,’ playing on low. One black Christian Louboutin oxford shoe stepped in front of the other, heavy and slow. His heart beat a dawdling, edgy song. A heavy haze of hatred clouded his mind, but not his vision. Roman adjusted his Rolex and pulled up, snatching a chair that one of the men already occupied.
“Hey!” the guy growled. Grandpa laughed and slapped the table.
“It’s okay, Icarus. Roman is a bit of a joker.”
“Oh? This chair is taken? No problem. I’ll find me another chair. After all, I want to get comfortable.” Roman offered a lax, cool smile, then slowly walked around the table as if playing a game of, ‘Duck, Duck, Goose’. Once he finished circling, he stood before his grandfather and looked down. “Looks like there’s nowhere to sit.” He tossed up his hands.
“I will have a seat brought for you.”
“No need. I’m sure this visit was just a coincidence, Grandpa. Anyway, I have an important dinner this evening.” He pointed across the way. “So, I guess we better make this fast.” He bent down and leered, bringing his nose a mere two inches from his grandfather’s face.
“The business that you and I have to discuss is far more important than anything you got goin’ on over there, boy. Your freedom, wealth, and standing are on the line.”
“I’m. Not. Changing. My. Mind.”
Grandpa smoothed his beard out. Not a flinch. Not a soul. Not a heartbeat could be heard. “Roman, it seems you’ve had a hard time of it. Poor, poor boy… all the unfairness and misery of a childhood gone wrong. I think on page thirty-four, you described some pretty intense shit… no one knew that you hid the tears of a clown.” Grandpa shook his head. “Mr. Easy-Going, Nothin’ Bothers Me, Shove it Up Your Ass Funny Man here is as brokenhearted as they come. You fell in love a couple of times with the wrong women, and the women who loved you, you didn’t love them back. Or what about all the times you and your brothers had to drag your drunken ass father who passed out in the middle of the road before he got run over? My son, your father, is an embarrassment to the family name. Can’t hold his liquor. Your big, fat, sloppy mama cryin’ and slobberin’, begging you to not get in no more trouble… Oh, and the Marine stories were rich!” Grandpa burst into a fit of giggles. “Awww! Poor Roman! Pretty boys have feelings, too, huh?”