Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“He just looks like he’d talk you through it.” Livvie flashes a salacious grin. “Ya know what I mean?”
Girl, do I.
“I heard you went to college with Monk, Verity,” Livvie says, a new eagerness in her voice as we make our way toward Café Society. “Any inside information would be appreciated.”
“Oh.” My brain skips like a scratched record. “Um, no. We were only together… at Finley together… at the same time, I mean… not together… for a few months. I’m not sure I’d be much help.”
“You may not be into guys,” Livvie says dryly, “but you can appreciate Monk’s a fine specimen, right?”
“What makes you think I’m not into guys?” I ask, my awkwardness shifting to genuine curiosity.
“Oh!” Livvie’s eyes go wide. “I’m sorry. I thought I heard you say you’re a lesbian.”
“Bisexual actually,” I correct. “It’s not like when I’m dating a woman, I forget that I’m also attracted to men, or vice versa. Parts of me don’t disappear just because from the outside, you see me with one, not the other.”
“I get that. I mean, I get it for you. I can’t imagine being turned on by pussy much as I love dick.”
Neevah catches my eye and, with the look she sends me, seems to be apologizing for her friend. There’s no need. I’m used to conversations like this.
“We better get to the meeting,” Neevah says, linking her arm through Livvie’s. “See you later, Verity.”
I wave them both off and pull my phone out.
Me: Heard you’re on set today?
Monk: Yeah. Not for long. Just fooling around with the guys down at the ballroom. Meet me at Dessi and Tilda’s place?
Me: I have a video call with the studio to pitch a few ideas, so I need to get home. Can’t stay long.
Monk: 10 min tops. On my way up.
I navigate the streets of Dessi’s Harlem, slipping between fabricated buildings and walking past stoops so real I expect someone to call out to me from a doorway any minute. This section of the lot is kind of empty while the production meeting is happening in Café Society on the opposite side of the set. I climb the steps and walk into Tilda and Dessi’s apartment. Monk’s already sitting on the bed, dark brows bent into a frown as he stares down at a small leather notebook.
“Whatcha doin’?” I ask, closing the door behind me.
He glances up, and his eyes have that slightly distracted look like he’s not really seeing me for the first few seconds. “Oh, making a few notes in my music diary.”
“Dear Diary, I wrote a song today,” I tease. “I think it’s my best one yet.”
“Cute.” He rolls his eyes. “I’ve been looking at some of the dailies to get a sense of what I’ll want to do musically. I’ll write down something like… ominous or propulsive. Or for Tilda and Dessi’s first time, I wrote Sex, saxophone, flute, violin. Hope. Not sure what that’ll be, but it’s what came to me when I watched it. It’s like a shorthand of what I feel when I first see the story. If it’s done right, the music tells the story as much as the script does.”
“The process of a genius,” I say lightly, leaning against the door.
“Hardly. Why you all the way over there?” He stretches his arms out. “C’mere.”
I take the few steps to reach him, and as soon as I’m close, he pulls me to stand between his legs. I rest my elbows on his shoulders and level a stern look on him.
“Don’t get any ideas,” I warn. “You look like you’re up to no good.”
“If you’re saying I have resting horny face,” he laughs, falling back on the bed and taking me down with him, “you’re right.”
“Monk!” I squeal, giggling and pulling my knees on either side of his hips. “I’m serious. I only have a few minutes. I want to get home and put on a little makeup. Do something with my hair before this Zoom. I need to look good when I tell the studio I’m a failure.”
“Why failure?” He presses on my back until my chest is flush with his. I give up and lay my head on his shoulder.
“Everything I write is shit.” I let out a long sigh. “I haven’t felt this blocked in a long time. I need to crack this script.”
“You’ll get it.” His hands roam down my back to squeeze my ass.
“Hey!” I sit up and point at him accusingly. “I told you no funny business.”
“This ass is no laughing matter,” he says, sending his hand down the back of my pants and into my underwear to cup my bare butt. He slips a finger between the cheeks. “When you gon’ let me fuck this ass?”
“You first. I have a collection of dildos.”
His shout of laughter bounces off the walls. “Not likely.”