Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Whatever the right term is for being so crazy rich, thank freaking farge.
I cut a straight line down the sidewalk, my heels clicking noisily.
I went for the total cliché surprise your boyfriend with a trench coat and spicy lingerie underneath, so no, I don’t have anything on under this coat except a bunch of straps and lace that offer my lady bits exceptionally dubious coverage. From the trench coat’s hem on down, I have a professional look going on. Stockings and heels. I also took care to do my hair, straightening my unruly curls. Do you know how freaking long it takes to do that? I even did my makeup dark and sultry. I wish I had looked in the car’s tiny little visor mirror before I bailed. That sultry look is probably giving a drowned raccoon now.
Double fuck. Fuck on fuck. Fuck with fuck on top.
It’s too bad my bestie is just into goth in a big way, not the devil-worshipping stuff that people always assume goes hand in hand. She knows zero hexes. In the past five minutes, I may or may not have decided that an average member is not a real curse. Shrinkage should occur.
Like many of the buildings in Providence, the hotel’s front is stone, though the sides are brick. The building is only about five floors tall, or at least it has five banks of windows along the impressive sides. The street view is lovely, with one huge stained glass round window as the focus. The massive wooden doors are straight out of a fairytale castle. On the inside, I bet it’s stunning.
This would be a lovely place to get married.
I don’t know why it hasn’t made my list.
Depending on whether or not they let me use a phone, it could end on another list.
The shitlist or the hex-wish list.
The huge doors, with the arch on top and lion-head knockers, swing open surprisingly easily. The lobby is all marble with dripping chandeliers, rich red carpets, and spiral gold staircases. Exactly what you’d expect from an old-timey hotel that wishes it were a castle.
I should approach the front desk and ask if I can use a phone or, better yet, request they call a tow truck for me. I have a twenty. I can pay them for the call if they can’t do it out of the goodness of their hearts.
I take one step in that direction, but a hefty wooden door, partially ajar, catches my eye. I creep a little closer until I can see that just beyond the door, the place looks like a cave with mood lighting.
There’s always that part in the movies where you know someone is going to get killed for walking in the dumbest direction. Anyone would know they’re going to their doom, but still, they persist. And sure enough, bam! They’re eaten by monsters or chased by a chainsaw-wielding maniac.
Lucky for me, I’m not in a horror movie. This is a classy hotel. Even if the place is haunted, I can’t say my night could actually get any worse. It’s just a lounge, and honestly, you know what? I’m not a drinker, but I think this night calls for one. Even a freaking cranberry juice would be welcome. I’m suddenly parched, probably from the massive tear fest in the car where I cried out half my bodily fluids.
The lounge might be small, but as I walk in, I’m pleasantly surprised to find that it’s actually not cave-like at all. It’s drenched in the same luxury as the lobby, minus the chandeliers and the marble. It’s a different kind of luxury here. Old gentleman’s club comes to mind. The gold framed paintings, dark upholstered booths, hardwood flooring, cherry-hued wainscotting on the walls, and matching crown molding on the ceilings are a straight throwback to a hundred and fifty years ago. The bar takes up the entire back wall. It’s made of ornate black wood with tufted velvet done up with little gold buttons on the front. The mood lighting along the rows and rows of glass shelves stuffed with bottles behind them offers an almost jarring contemporary touch.
Two things immediately catch my eye: the piano in the far corner of the room, sitting forlorn and lonely, and the man behind the bar.
Chapter two
Bellatrix
Angry metal music that sounds like it’s playing on a phone wasn’t discernable from the outside, but now, when I take a few steps into the lounge, I hear it. It’s not playing over the speakers, which makes me think it’s the bartender’s choice. Since no one is even in here, he decided to treat himself, knowing full well that if he’s caught, he’ll probably face a warning about termination.
I stop dead after two steps when the guy looks up from whatever he is doing behind the bar.