Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 43239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 216(@200wpm)___ 173(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 216(@200wpm)___ 173(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
“The desert?”
“Manhattan.”
SIX
HARRISON
Later that evening
Jackson must sense how skeptical I am about this favor, because he hasn’t stopped talking about how “amazing” and “incredibly sweet” Eliza is since he started giving me a private tour.
He’s also pulling out all the stops and adding extras to my stay: free spa treatments, unlimited breakfast, a key to one of their top villas—complete with butler service. He’s even offered to cook me dinner, which I’m 95% sure is a trap.
“This is Eliza’s favorite thing to do,” he says, leading me through a field of wildflowers. “She’s a master gardener. Got it from our mom.”
I pluck a sunflower and twirl the stem between my fingers.
I know better than to ask about their parents. He was always quiet about them in college, and I know both of them are long gone.
“If our mom were still alive, we’d probably have a million sponsors by now,” he says. “She’d be our Martha Stewart.”
“You still have that pasta recipe she gave you?” I ask. “It’s still the best I’ve ever had.”
He shoots me a look. “Better than all those Michelin-starred restaurants you eat at now?”
“I have no reason to lie. I compare every pasta dish to that one—and nothing’s come close.”
Jackson grins. “I’ll have Eliza make it for you while you’re here.”
“Let’s not give her another reason to hate me.”
“Speaking of which,” I say, “what does she think of this coaching plan?”
“I haven’t told her yet.”
“…What?”
“I wanted to talk to you first—ease her into the idea.”
I blink. “Ease her in? Have you met your sister?”
“She might push back at first,” he says, “but once I explain how important it is—how much we need her—she’ll come around.”
If you say so…
“When are you planning to tell her?”
“When she’s at her nicest and sweetest.” He grins. “Like in the morning, when she’s watering her—”
“What the hell did I say about doing that, you motherfuckerrrr!”
A high-pitched yell cuts through the field like a grenade, and we both turn.
Eliza is standing by the mailbox, arms flailing.
She’s screaming at a mail carrier who’s trying—and failing—to make a fast getaway on his bike.
“Next time you throw our goddamn packages, I swear to God I’ll flatten your tires and bury your bike in the garden!”
He flips her off from a safe distance.
She returns the favor—twice—and keeps yelling until he disappears.
I glance back at Jackson.
“What were you saying about her being nice and sweet?”
“That was just a bad moment.” He scratches the back of his neck. “She’s usually much calmer. Especially with new people.”
I bite my tongue. He has no idea I met her already.
Twice.
“Why are you being so weird about this?” he asks.
“Because ninety-nine-point-nine percent of my clients are male,” I admit. “It's easy for me to dress up their wardrobe, give them lessons in being more charming because I'm a guy who has succeeded in the areas they're desperate to emulate.”
“Tell me about someone in the one percent, then.” He crosses his arms. “What happened with your best female client?”
“You're missing the point.”
“You’re not making one. What'd she hire you for?”
“She wanted to get revenge on an ex-boyfriend.”
“You do murder for hire?”
That'd be a lot easier than what you're asking me to do.
“No,” I say, remembering the woman from three years ago. “I just happened to see her crying in a cafe and I couldn't concentrate between her sobs, so I asked her what was wrong.”
“She said her boyfriend dumped her for a younger woman and she wanted to make him regret it. They were due to be at some corporate retreat six months from then and she wanted to show everyone how terrible a decision he’d made.”
“Interesting,” Jackson smiles. “Did it work?”
“A little too good. She has a reality TV show now.”
“She give you any credit?”
“The bonus thank-you check she sends every month.” I pause. “That was different. She already knew the rules of the corporate world. And she just needed a new wardrobe, therapy, and a stylist. Plus, I had six months.”
“I’m just asking you to make Eliza more like the women who you—” He pauses. “Let me rephrase that.”
“Please do. But wait—” I throw my final Hail Mary. “Why can't you do the presentations? You're good at conversations and it'd be nothing to get you fitted for a few custom suits.”
“I can't leave this place for a day, let alone a week, Harrison. Besides, someone has to hide the mail and deal with the bill collectors without anyone finding out what's really going on here.”
“Understood.” I slowly accept defeat. “Give me a chance to map out a full list of lessons and everything she'd need to pull this off…”
“Of course.” He pulls a set of keys from his pocket and tosses them to me. “As promised, those are for Villa 21, the best one we have.”
“Do you still have that marijuana garden you used to brag about?”