Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
The next day, I was at the registered address of Shaw and Sons, outstanding bill in my hand.
I didn’t keep all of my promises.
Three
Something in the Orange — Zach Bryan
Though Jupiter was a tourist town known for its rugged beaches, quaint stores and Nora’s bakery—which was a tourist destination in and of itself—it was originally a fishing port. The dock was still active, though I’d never visited it. Why would I? I barely went to the beach, even though it was a handful of feet out my back door. As was the sand, the insects and the idiots swimming in the frigid Maine waters, eventually realizing that they couldn’t swim while great white sharks waited to feast on the aforementioned idiots… No thank you.
I had planned on never stepping my well-shod foot on a dock in my life. Yet there I was. I made promises to my brother, yes, but promises were only as good as the person making them. He should’ve known better than that. My promises were worth a lot less than the silk I slept in. And I needed to get my mind off the pressing issue of Jasper Hayes and the ticking time bomb that was that situation—therefore, breaking promises and collecting debts was my distraction.
I pushed my shades to the top of my head as I stared at the large fishing boat in front of me. My nose wrinkled in distaste as the scent of salt mixed with a distinctly fishy smell. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, I supposed, but to me, it was not appealing. I liked my fish on a plate at Nobu, nowhere else.
The dock itself wasn’t overly busy. The larger port of Stonington was where most of the state’s fishing revenue was generated. With a lot of boats moving to that port and Jupiter itself no longer relying on the fishing trade, I figured this dock was living on borrowed time. I made a mental note of the location, a prime spot for investors looking to build a resort. Which would ruin the quaint charm of the town of Jupiter but would make me a fuck-load of money.
There were a handful of boats around, men in waders and beanies giving me sideways glances.
“Keep walking, Popeye,” I told the man who eyed me for a second too long, eyes slimier than a piece of raw fish.
Granted, I looked out of place in my black pantsuit, heels and designer purse. But I looked good. Great, in fact. That didn’t give him license to stare, though, even if I did look like a proverbial fish out of water.
I’d abandoned New York, my job, my apartment, my entire existence. No way was I giving up my wardrobe.
I planned on being buried in Louboutins, Yves Saint Laurent, and my sins.
“Hello!” I called out, leaning over the dock to knock on the side of a barnacle-crusted boat. It had seen better days, Shaw and Sons was painted in faded lettering.
No wonder they couldn’t pay their bills. They couldn’t even afford to put a fresh coat of paint on their boat. The invoice wasn’t for the boat itself but for the restaurant that was, apparently, connected to their business. A casual eatery that the rest of my family frequented. I did not. They served drinks in plastic cups. I didn’t drink out of fucking plastic cups. Children did. I didn’t go to a place where I was treated like a child. Even though Nora said the lobster roll would change my life.
My life had gone through enough changes as it was. I was fine where I was, and no lobster roll would be that good. Plus, I didn’t eat bread—just another way to torture myself for sins never to be erased. And it was good for my ass.
“Hello?” I tried again. I assumed someone was there because there was a coffee cup sitting on the edge of the boat, steam wafting from it. I resisted the urge to snatch it up and drink it since I hadn’t slept well again and had quit Coke cold turkey when I left New York. I’d already had one coffee, but that was only the appetizer; I usually had at least three before noon—I needed some kind of stimulant to get me through these godforsaken days.
The day itself wasn’t exactly godforsaken, not with the cloudless blue sky, the balmy, salty air, the crash of the waves and the picturesque landscape.
Peaceful… Far too fucking peaceful. I needed chaos, sirens, cabs honking and skyscrapers blocking out the sun so I wasn’t blasted with the reality of just how dark my life had gotten.
The thump of boots against wood confirmed my belief that there was life within the boat. I snapped my attention back to the moment. I was not some daydreaming, slack-jawed woman. I was always alert. Even there, where I doubted some fisherman would possess the skills to best me. No man could. At least that’s the lie I told myself.