Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 59659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
The last couple of days had been stressful to say the least, but after a workout and a shower, I figured I would be seeing things a lot clearer. Grabbing some clothes, I turned on the hot water and prepared to let my now sore muscles relax.
I closed my eyes under the stream a few minutes later. One of the major upsides of this house was the water pressure and I sighed as the heat loosened my muscles and some of the stress faded away. I had no idea how long I was in there with my eyes shut, my head leaning against the wall, when I heard my phone ringing somewhere in the distance.
Aggravated at whoever was calling because it meant I had to leave the warm cocoon of the shower, I stepped out and wrapped a towel around myself. There was no use getting dressed first. I made my way through the room to the living room where I had left the phone on the coffee table.
It was at that moment that I realized several things all at once. The sun was beginning to go down, meaning it was lighter inside my living room than it was outside. My blinds were wide open. And Mrs. Coffee from next door was standing on her porch, mail in her hand and a wry smile on her face as she stared inside my window, apparently stopped mid-stride.
Awkwardly, I waved and grabbed my phone, heading to the bedroom, feeling embarrassed. I answered it on my way without even looking at who it was.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Vic, what’s going on, man?” Mark’s voice came over the line.
“I’m fine, dude,” I said. “Just got out of the shower. What’s up?”
“You got plans for tonight?” he asked.
“Other than a couple beers, no.”
“Well, why don’t you have those couple beers with me?” he asked.
“Hell yeah, you name the time and place,” I said, excited to hang out with my buddy.
“Good deal,” he said. “Carmela has been saying she wanted to make you a welcome home dinner and have you over. That sound good?”
“A homemade meal? Yeah, I think I can handle that,” I chuckled. “Anything I need to bring? Beer?”
“Nah,” Mark said. “I got everything we would need. You just head out here.”
“Right on, what time?” I asked.
“Say around seven?” he asked. “Oh, before I forget. Carmela said something about you bought Brewer’s Grocery?”
“Yeah,” I said, excitedly. “A controlling interest anyway.”
“Wow,” he said. “Yeah, she ran into Melanie Brewer today. She said something about you buying it out from under her?”
“It’s a long story,” I said on a sigh. “Trust me, the last twenty-four hours have been a bit rough, not the least of which is because Melanie didn’t react to me buying up part of her company in a way that was conducive to us developing a working relationship.”
“Damn,” Mark said. “Well, hey, we can talk about all that when you get here. I’d love to know the whole story.”
“Absolutely,” I said. “Maybe you have some clue as to what I should do about this whole thing that might help.”
“I’ll give it a whack,” he said. “So, I’ll see you in about an hour. If I’m not mistaken, it’s going to be a pasta kind of night.”
“You know my weakness for useless carbs,” I laughed.
“I do,” he said, chuckling. “See you soon.”
Hanging up, I excitedly headed to my closet. Getting a chance to have a nice, homecooked meal was probably the most enticing part of all of it. I hadn’t eaten anything homemade that wasn’t my own in quite a long time. Even when I had, it had been Sarah’s shockingly terrible cooking.
Sarah had put on the appearance of a woman who was adept at all things. Always dressed to the nines in expensive clothes and shoes, she looked the part. She talked the part too, and to anyone who listened, she seemed like the perfect woman. Smart, sexy, and somewhat traditional while still being ambitious and capable of bringing in a huge income on her own.
Of course, no one else knew what she was like when she was home. How she turned into the ice queen the second the door was shut and how she rarely ever made any attempt to try.
But I would rather be alone than be unhappy. Or be with someone who was unhappy.
Grabbing my phone and stuffing it in my pocket, I went into the living room and found my keys and wallet before heading out the door. As I shut it behind me, I heard someone clear their throat and looked up. Mrs. Coffee was still standing on her porch, looking over at me over the smoke from a cigarette. The ashes looked like they were about six inches long.
She waved, a crooked smile on her face.
Not sure of what else to do, I waved back and continued on to my car. Mrs. Coffee was going to prove a difficult neighbor to have, I feared. Maybe another phone call to the kids living in my parents’ old house was in order.