Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
“Wanda,” Chick supplied when Bernie looked puzzled. “He was cuddling her at the garage. She’s adorable.”
Bernie dropped her fork, understanding transforming her expression. “You told him he could keep the puppy that spent the night peeing all over my house? He said he needed to leave her with me for a little while, but with Phoebe about to pop, I don’t have the energy to chase her around.”
He’d named the puppy Wanda. “Why didn’t he bring her home?”
I caught them sharing a significant look and rolled my eyes. “Yes, I said it. Shut up. Fine.” I pointed at each of them in turn. “You know your brother and you know men, so I need your advice. How do I get him to tell me what’s wrong and show him that I’m more invested?”
Hopefully their answer wasn’t for me to profess the feelings I hadn’t completely come to terms with yet. I wasn’t ready to take that big of a risk. Too much had happened too fast, and a lot of it was temporary. The job. The race. Chick’s visit. I wasn’t as attached because I knew they’d all be over soon.
I didn’t want what Wade and I had to be in that category, but how could I be sure it wasn’t?
Are you seriously thinking about staying now?
The thought made my pulse race with conflicting emotions. What if I was?
“It’s about damn time,” Chick said, raising his fist to bump Bernie’s in solidarity. “We’ve been waiting for you to ask for our help.”
“I’ll text Phoebe’s friend now.” Bernie’s thumbs were already flying over her phone. “She does things with curly hair you wouldn’t believe.”
I touched my hair self-consciously. “Your advice includes a hair appointment?”
“We’re starting a new chapter to celebrate finishing your book,” Chick said loftily. “It comes with free advice, a new haircut, and making do with the nearest mall for a shopping montage.”
“Oh, Chick, no.” I hated his shopping montages. Trying on clothes in front of unforgiving mirrors while he played dance music from his phone on the other side of the changing room door? The older I got, the less I liked it. Which was why I ordered all of my pajama sets online.
“‘Oh Chick, yes!’ is what I’m used to hearing. Try again.”
Defeated, I reached for my margarita and drained the last of it, then licked the salt off my lips. “This had better be really good advice.”
Three hours later, Myrtle was full of shopping bags and I was surrounded by my own personal entourage as I stared at my wet hair in the salon mirror. I’d had a shopping montage’s worth of advice about men in general and Wade in particular. And of course, the montage soundtrack was the playlist Chick had been making for Lemons, which included everything from Rihanna’s “Shut up and Drive” to the Speed Racer theme song. My head was still spinning with information and earworms when we got to Montrose, where Phoebe’s friend worked.
The small, hip salon instantly made me feel both underdressed and entirely at home. It was like a young, curly-haired model convention.
Though the woman we’d asked for was busy, she’d sworn by her fellow stylist Tony, and one look at his perfectly styled natural curls created an instant bond of trust between us. This man got my hair. He wouldn’t try to feather it, straighten it or give me bangs. I could work with him.
After a scrub that included red salt and tea tree oil, as well as a wash and deep condition, he’d brought me out to his spot on the floor and allowed Bernie and Chick to sit on the small, aqua-colored sofa beside us. They’d decided Tony was their new best friend and should be filled in on everything that had been going on in our lives recently.
“That’s it,” Tony declared, though he wasn’t talking about my hair, since he was still snipping away. “This race sounds hysterical, and you’ve convinced me to make the drive and come to one of your yoga lessons, Bernie.”
“Don’t start with her advanced class,” Chick warned him. “I consider myself to be in damn fine shape, and I barely survived it. The only reason my pride is still intact is because my buddy Haywood didn’t.”
At some point during the last two weeks, Chick and Kingston had decided to work together instead of snipe at each other. They’d been visiting each team member to get a “day in the life” perspective before the race. Kingston would film and subtly interrogate. Chick would charm, guide and empathize until they both got what they wanted.
A few days ago, it was Bernie’s turn, and she’d decided to invite them to join a yoga class. When Kingston, who was a regular runner, sounded dismissive of the activity, Chick had challenged him to a yoga-off. From the way Bernie described it, Chick had been covered in sweat and shaking by the time it was over, while Haywood had been flat on his back and begging for mercy.