Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 132464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“Okay, Josh Faraday,” Sarah says. “But under the circumstances, I’m gonna keep it family-friendly.”
“Boo!” I shout.
“Yes, Kat,” Sarah says sternly. “Playing X-rated ‘Would You Rather?’ in this crowd would hurtle us into TMI territory on a bullet train.”
I laugh. “Probably true.”
“Okay, then,” Sarah says. “Would you rather be hideously ugly but extremely wealthy, or spectacularly good looking but dirt poor?”
We all ponder that for a moment.
“Jonas?” Sarah asks. “What say you, love?’
“In which of these scenarios do I have a better shot at snagging you?” Jonas asks.
“Doesn’t matter. I’d love you rich or poor, gorgeous or hideous.”
Jonas shrugs. “Then I don’t care. You pick. As long as I have you, I’m good.”
Josh shoots me an annoyed expression, and, in reply, I pretend to stick my finger down my throat.
“Is it your life’s mission to make me look like a prick?” Josh asks Jonas. “Because I was about to say rich and ugly.”
“Aw, come on, babe,” I say. “Good looking and poor, all the way.”
“No, babe. If I’m rich and ugly, I can wine and dine you, which means I’d still bag you. Best of both worlds—I’d still be rich and I’d still have you.”
“You’d bag me even more if you were dirt poor but looked the way you do, I assure you.” I wink. “ If you wanna wine me and dine me when you’re dirt poor, just make me one of your orgasm-inducing PB&Js.”
“Kat,” Sarah chastises, putting her hands over her ears. “Family friendly, remember?”
“Okay, okay,” I say. “Ask another one, Sarah.”
“But this time don’t lob a softball at your husband that makes me look like a total prick, Sarah Cruz,” Josh adds.
“I don’t think it was Sarah’s question that made you look like a total prick,” Jonas says.
I look at my watch and shift on the examination table, making the wax paper crinkle underneath me. “Where’s the doctor?”
“Okay, Kat. Listen up,” Sarah says. “Would you rather have balls hanging from your chin or a two foot tail that wags every time you feel excited?”
We all laugh at the ridiculousness of the question.
“Hey, I thought these were supposed to be hypothetical,” Josh says, and we all laugh again.
“Okay, okay,” Sarah says. “That was a dumb one. Here’s a good one: would you rather be a wildly successful artist who makes totally uninspired crap you abhor creating, or a starving but brilliant artist who makes art that feeds your soul?”
“Wildly successful artist who makes total crap,” Josh says without hesitation.
“Yeah, baby!” I shout, high-fiving Josh. “Me, too. Totally.”
Sarah and Jonas look at each other, absolutely dumbfounded.
“Are you joking?” Jonas asks. “You’ve only got one soul, for fuck’s sake.”
Sarah high-fives Jonas. “You tell ’em, baby.”
“There you go again, making me look like a prick,” Josh says.
“Aw, screw them,” I say. “Let Jonas and Sarah be soulful arteests while you and I make oodles of cash off our bottle-cap-pipe-cleaner sculptures. And while they’re eating Kraft Macaroni & Cheese in their rat-infested hovel in SoHo, surrounded by their frickin’ art, we’ll head to Cabo on our private jet and ‘feed our souls’ while making love on a white-sand beach.”
“You’re a fucking genius, babe,” Josh says.
“You truly can’t keep it family-friendly if your life depended on it, can you, Kat?” Sarah says.
“Oh, come on, Cruz. That was PG-rated at worst,” I say. I look toward the door. “Where the heck is Dr. Gupta? She doesn’t normally take this long.”
“Okay, listen up, Party Girl,” Josh says. “Would you rather be the star player on a football team that loses every game of the season or warm the bench on a team that wins the Super Bowl?”
“Hmm,” Sarah says. “Play on the losing team, I think. What do you think, my love?”
“I think I’d rather sit the bench on the winning team,” Jonas says. “Because, ultimately, I’d aspire to become the head coach—so this way, I’d have the opportunity to watch and learn from the best.”
We all burst out laughing.
“What?” Jonas asks. “That’s my honest answer.”
“Oh, Jonas,” Sarah says. She touches his cheek tenderly and her diamond rings sparkle under the lights of the examination room. “I love you.”
“Okay, I’ve got one,” I say. “Would you rather be stuck on a desert island for the rest of your life all alone or with someone who talks incessantly?”
“I’d rather be stuck on a desert island with you, babe,” Josh says sweetly.
“Aw, that’s lovely, honey—but you gotta pick one of the choices.”
Josh raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I did pick one of the choices.”
Everyone bursts out laughing, even me, just as the door to the examination room opens.
“Oh, wow,” Dr. Gupta says. “There’s a party going on in here.”
“Hi, Doctor,” I say. “You remember Josh—my baby-daddy?”
Josh blanches. He hates it when I call him that, which is why I keep doing it.
“And this is my best friend, Auntie Sarah, whom you’ve met before,” I continue. “And Sarah’s husband, Uncle Jonas, who also happens to be Josh’s brother.”