Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“I’m not a doctor,” I politely deny. “I’m a transport lead of a nonprofit organization that assists in the safe relocating of donated human organs and tissue from various donor programs to medical institutions.”
Laz runs a hand through his black, wavy hair on a scrunched face. “Yeah, but I can remember the word doctor.”
Bewilderment blasts through my face as Matias juvenilely taunts, “Sí. It’s like one of the three jobs he learned as a kid. Doctor, teacher, and car salesman.”
“Gotta know what the old man does if you ever wanna take over the family business,” he good-naturedly jokes back on a shrug.
Doing my best to engage in the conversation, I ask, “You wanna run his dealerships someday?”
“Mejor que un tiburón me lambe mis huevos,” he loudly laughs, “than ever do what he does.”
Tate leans down to quietly translate for me. “He’d rather a shark lick his balls.”
“Graphic.”
“That’s the kind of day you’re in for.” Our eyes momentarily meet for him to wink my direction.
As long as everyone gets along and no one hates me or tries to convince him of the obvious fear I have about being a little too old for him, I think we’ll be okay.
“Laz, by the way,” the thinnest and the most bronze skinned of the batch, finally states on an introductory point inward.
“Carlota’s youngest of six who was born on Cinco De Mayo.”
“Ironic shit since no part of me is Mexican,” he laughs once more entering our home.
According to the family tree lesson I was studying all week, his mom married a guy that’s French Canadian.
“Doesn’t stop your arse from pretending so that you can drink for free that day,” Tate promptly points out.
Another less than innocent shrug is given to which I wave. “I’m Harper.”
“The non-doctor, doctor.”
Not sure I’m ever going to win the battle; I simply throw in the towel while shutting the front door. “Exactly.”
Matias and Felipe snicker, although I’m not sure if it’s at my expense or his.
Before anyone can utter another word or even veer out of the entry way there’s another knock on the door redirecting our attention.
Leaning over to answer it immediately occurs, and opening the door reveals to me the emotional support needed on such a “family-filled” day. Nat gives her long, thick, almost ass length hair a hard, frustrated ruffle. “Sorry, I’m late! Evidently, taking a full day off as the newest CFO of a multi-million-dollar nonprofit isn’t a formally understood concept yet.” Her long-toned arms wrap around me in a warm embrace. “Gah, I can’t believe we haven’t seen each other in two weeks.”
That’s basically two fucking years for us.
Our friendship has always been like that since we first met at Assembly Required which was long before she moved on to work for the private nonprofit that deals with auto-immune diseases that she works for now. We have one of those weird friendship stories where there was no logical rhyme or reason for us to have struck up a conversation to begin with or to have decided to go out for drinks that night. We just did. And lucky for us, we have the same great taste in TV – why are there so many cult documentaries out there? – and opposite tastes in men – I don’t think I could ever date a science fanatic or a man who wears dress socks to sleep. We’ve rarely had any riffs in our relationship other than the one-time I told her I thought her boyfriend was cheating – because he was. Daniel and I saw him at Arthur’s, at the bar, with his tongue down a “business associate’s” throat. I was smart enough to have taken a photo. Had I not, there’s no telling how long there would’ve been smoke in the city for us, so to speak.
Nat’s family to me.
She was the first person I connected with after my grandparents died and has been by my side for almost a decade.
Having her here is more like having a sister around than a bestie.
I love her.
And going by the unsettled feeling in my stomach, I definitely think I’ll need her today.
When she pulls away, her brown eyes frantically search mine on a quiet, “You okay? You sure you’re ready for this?”
Her reference to not only having houseguests but basically a blending of our “families” day has me nervously snickering. “Too late to back out now, bitch. They’re already here.”
“Girl, you know I got you. I’ll be your getaway driver. Get you into hiding. Dad doesn’t like to talk about it, but he knows people. You don’t work in law at that level with that many multi-millionaires and not know people. Plus, I know people on the res back home that wouldn’t mind a little off the beaten path type of work.”
Tate unexpectedly leans over my shoulder interrupting my prepared playful response. “Would you two stop plotting to kill my family, please?”