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)
Ohmygodyouguysaregonnalovethis!
“The betrayal and the infidelity and the breakup. It’s not permanent, but they need to grow and mature, to find themselves. There’s a pivotal scene in the third act that I’m still working out dialogue for, but it will come to me. The whole thing has been so clear, unlike anything I’ve written before. I believe that—”
“Ms. Hill,” Professor Rollins cuts in, his voice snapping to its usual curtness. “We don’t need this play-by-play. Whatever your point is, I think you’ve made it. Now sit down.”
Who the hell does he think he is? Truth be told, I should be teaching this class. I could write circles around this man. Around every student in here, matter of fact. They’re looking at me with new admiration. It’s obvious they want to hear more, but he’s too self-absorbed to notice. While Professor Rollins and I stare at each other for a few stretched-out seconds, a million unused sentences vibrate in the walls of my throat. Consonants and vowels war in my jaws, fighting to slip between my lips if I even part them but to breathe. I force it all down, clamping my teeth against the next wave of words and taking my seat.
“Now,” Professor Rollins says brusquely. “Who’s next?”
That dismissal would normally sting, but today it rolls right off me. My skin is slick and thick. I’m armored with this new confidence that not even Professor Rollins can rob me of.
God, it’s great being me.
NINE
Monk
February
Working in the studio this semester has been mind-numbing. Somehow I’ve become the “it” engineer for several mediocre pop stars who’d never get played in public if not for the magic of knobs and levers. The musicians are generally pretty good, but they’re nowhere near the caliber of the band I play with Friday nights here at The Vibe.
When the bandleader Tony kicks it to me and the small stage’s spotlight swings over to the keys, I give the solo my full dedication. There’s an alchemy to jazz—the collaborative magic of playing with other musicians within a structure but with the freedom to improvise. To soar above and then fall back in line, yielding the sky to someone else with wings. And with great musicians like the ones here tonight, everyone flies.
“Thank you all for coming,” Tony says into the mic at the close of the set. “We’ll be back next Friday.”
The only thing I need more than good music is my girl. I search the dimly lit crowd for Verity’s pretty face and riot of curls, but I don’t see her yet. She told me she’d be at the library late, but she would make it by the end of my set. Between her regular class load and that screenwriting project, she’s been working around the clock and barely sleeping.
“You guys were on fire tonight,” Tony tells us. “I actually booked a last-minute thing I’m doing across town if you wanna roll.”
The trumpet and sax players eagerly accept, but I already know I’m not doing it.
“Nah.” I grin wolfishly. “Gotta see about a girl.”
“Alright now.” Ollie, the drummer, whistles and clacks his sticks together. “I known you since you was a freshman and ain’t ever heard you talk about a lil’ shortie like that.”
“This one’s special,” I say with no shame or self-consciousness.
I’d tell virtual strangers on the street how I feel about Verity. We’ve only been dating four months, but I know the real thing when I feel it. I didn’t think I would, or that after the catastrophe with my parents, I would so easily trust it, but I do. I trust Verity.
“A good woman waiting for you at home,” Tony chuckles, “beats hanging out with these ugly motherfuckers any day.”
“Look who’s talking,” Ollie lobs back. “Ringleader of the ugly motherfuckers.”
We all laugh, finish packing our gear, and leave the stage.
“See you next week then,” I call, pulling my phone out to check for missed calls. Not seeing anything from Verity, I text.
Me: Hey, babe. Where are you? I thought you were meeting me here at The Vibe?
No bubbles. No reply. Nothing.
Me: If you’re still at the library, I’ll come scoop you. I don’t want you walking across campus by yourself this late.
“Well, well, well,” a vaguely familiar voice drawls from behind me. “Look who we have here.”
I turn, surprised to find Petra and her girlfriend.
“Whassup, P?” I fist-pound her and turn a neutral smile to her girl. “Randi, right? We met at the party briefly.”
“Oh, I remember you.” She eyes me up and down, and I can’t tell if she wants to fuck me, slap me, or both. She’s definitely Petra’s type.
“Good to see you guys again.” I glance at the door, anxious to catch Verity before she walks here from the library. “Well, I better—”
“Wait a sec,” Petra cuts in. “Hey, sweetie, could you go check on our drinks? It’s been a minute since we ordered.”