Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
“Go answer him. I’ll call you later today and let you know what happens. Also, the likelihood of either of us getting fired is highly unlikely. Our bosses would lose their minds if it weren’t for us. Love you, Alex,” I reply.
“That’s the truth. Love you, too.” We both hang up. I’m sure she’ll leave the apartment as fast as possible, hoofing it to the office, no doubt with a coffee for each of them. I know, because I’d be doing similar if I were in Seattle this morning. Instead, I’m here and it’s time I get a move on before the temperature gets too hot and the sun decides to burn me through my clothes. I step out of the car, grab my purse, and start my walk to find T.N. even his name sounds sexy. Still I’m not holding my breath on this guy being the real deal. Call it pessimistic, I call it being a realist, and my gut hasn’t failed me, yet.
2
Toren
“Okay, so you get to work, and I’ll do the filming,” Juliette tells me after taking a two-minute break. Christ, my cousin is busting my balls. The sad part about is I pay her, not the other way around.
“Jesus, Jett.” I finish drinking my bottle of water, crushing it in my hands before standing up from my place on a cut-up log I use to sit on, and think about my next move with what I’m creating. Shit’s still been slow going. My creative outlet seems to be running dry, which is the reason I opened up a few slots for commissioned pieces. I’m hoping this passes, but every fucking day, it seems to be further in the distance.
“What? I only have a few more hours before I’m hopping on a plane for the next adventure.” The girl lives to travel. She’s fortunate that she landed the career she wants, doing what she loves—a social media curator where she’s hired and paid to go wherever she’s needed, whenever she’s needed.
“Fine, let me go inside for a minute. Gonna make a sandwich. You want one?” I also need to replenish the outdoor fridge in the workshop, but that’ll have to wait for another time. Juliette will no doubt string me up by my balls if I make her wait any longer.
“Oh, I’ll follow. Do like a day in the life but make it to where you can’t see every nook and cranny in the house while also maintaining your anonymity on the world wide web.” That was the one caveat I asked for: keep my face off social media, and no address where I can be found. I didn’t want people showing up on my doorstep at all hours of the night.
“I know you’ve got my back, Jett,” I tell her over my shoulder as she follows behind me. The detached pole barn is a few hundred feet away from the house and where I keep everything I need for my metal artwork. It also allows for ample air flow, an absolute freaking must when working with a welding machine, wearing a helmet, welding apron, and heavy-duty gloves. I usually wear a shirt beneath the apron, but with my cousin here, needing to make what she calls thirst traps, it means it’s off, and I have to be a fuck of a lot more diligent with sparks flying. “Didn’t answer me. You want some food?”
“Yeah, sure. Now, quit looking over your shoulder. There’s only so much I can do to keep your face out of the frame when you’re looking at the camera.” She rolls her eyes; I shake my head and continue on. I kick the dirt off my boots, open the screen door, and step inside my house. It’s still early enough in the day that the air conditioning hasn’t kicked on and I’m able to keep some of the windows and doors open.
“Yeah, yeah.” I hear her feet behind me, the shuttering of the camera when she takes a few still images while doing her videography deal. We walk into the kitchen. Having a side door near the pole barn comes in handy, keeps the dirt off the carpet, and the wear and tear down on the front entry.
“Can you flex some?” If this were coming from anyone else than my younger cousin, I’d think nothing of it, but damn, this part of the job never ceases to amaze me. I do as she says, washing my hands at the kitchen sink, going the extra mile with the soap, and giving Jett what she swears my fans want. Shit, it’s still fucking weird to think this is what they want, but at least it pays the bills, and I’ve been fortunate enough that the guys haven’t stumbled upon this part of the gig.
They’d never let me live it down and would probably keep at it until they took it so far one of us would throw a punch, and that person would be me. Then they’d shut up, we’d apologize and more along with our day.