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)
“Sorry, bro,” I told him, much to his obvious chagrin. “Your ‘something shiny’ days are officially over—you’re our frontman now, baby. And, anyway, C&C has been your dream from day one—you gotta be the one to explain it.”
He looked totally bummed.
“Plus, as a practical matter,” I continued, “a bunch of local news stations are gonna be covering the grand opening. If one of our faces is gonna be plastered all over the news talking about our company’s mission, it’s gotta be yours, Pretty Boy.”
Jonas groaned.
“Oh, just nut up, Jonas. It’s not my fault you’re the pretty one.”
“But that’s the thing, Josh,” Jonas replied. “You always say I’m the pretty one—that I’ve got the looks and you’ve got the personality—but in all seriousness—and believe me, I hate to stroke your ego about this—I truly think you’re better looking than I am.”
“Well, yeah, duh, I’m better looking than you are, numnuts—of course, I am,” I said. “It’s just that, for some reason, no one else seems to recognize that obvious fact.”
Jonas laughed.
“It is what it is, bro—embrace it. You’re the pretty one, which means you’ve got to do the pretty-brother-speech.” I patted him on his pretty cheek. “Just pretend everyone in the audience is naked. Isn’t that what they always say you should do for public speaking?”
“Yeah,” Jonas sighed, resigned to his fate.
“Except for Kat—don’t pretend Kat’s naked or I’ll have to punch you in your pretty face.”
“Isn’t Henn gonna be there?” Jonas asked.
“Good point.” I grimaced. “Don’t picture Henn naked, either, or you might give yourself an aneurysm.”
“And Sarah’s mom? And Kat’s parents? Because I’d rather cut off my arm than imagine any of them naked,” Jonas said.
“Okay, fine. Shit,” I replied. “I wasn’t being literal. I was just saying don’t stress about the speech—you’ll be great.”
Jonas laughed. “Don’t worry—I’ll be fine. I’ll hate to do it, but I’ll manage it. I’ll just look at Sarah the whole time and I’ll be fine.”
The audience in front of me laughs at something Jonas is saying and my brain tunes back into the present moment.
“... . our initial twenty gyms in five states,” Jonas is saying into the microphone, “and we’re just getting started.”
My eyes scan the crowd and land on Kat’s gorgeous face—and then immediately drift down to the adorable baby bump that’s only recently popped out of her slender frame. Damn, Kat’s hot as hell. I can’t get enough of that terrorist under normal circumstances, but nowadays, with her cute little belly and blossoming tits and raging pregnancy hormones, my Kat-addiction is now officially completely out of control. If Kat were a drug, there’d be no choice but for my loved ones to stage an intervention.
“How’s our avocado today?” I asked Kat just this morning in our bed, running my hands over her naked belly, pressing my hard-on into her side, licking her nipple, inhaling her scent.
“Oh, no, babe,” she said, sighing with pleasure when my fingertips migrated south and began gently stroking her tip. “The kumquat was an avocado a couple weeks ago—the kumquat’s a freaking bell pepper now.”
“A bell pepper?” I said, running my fingertips lightly over her slick tip, coaxing her into delicious hardness. “Whoa, this kid’s unstoppable.”
Kat shuddered with pleasure and arched her back as my fingers began massaging her in earnest, and that was all the dangling carrot I needed to stop talking and get serious about pleasuring her. With a loud growl, I opened her thighs, burrowed my head between them, and begin licking my hot little momma into a delicious frenzy.
“... and that’s why the Climb & Conquer brand embodies adventure, fitness, and, most of all, the pursuit of excellence,” Jonas is saying. “Each person’s individual but universal quest to find the ideal version of himself.”
I smile to myself. Jonas had originally planned to say “each person’s individual quest to find the divine original form of himself,” but I told him no fucking way. “Mark my words, the news stations will run that one sound-bite out of context, and all anyone will remember is the word ‘divine,’” I said.
“And what’s wrong with that?” Jonas asked.
“Dude, they’ll think we’re some sort of religious cult, not a rock-climbing gym. It’s off-brand. Tell Plato he’s gotta stay the fuck away from my grand opening. He’s cramping my style.”
“Fine,” Jonas said begrudgingly. “I’ll kick Plato to the curb just this once and dumb it down, Josh Faraday style. Happy?”
“Yes. Happy as a clam,” I said.
“So what should I say if not ‘divine original’?”
“I dunno. What would Josh Faraday say? That ought to lead you to the right level of dumb.”
“... all about reaching higher than you ever thought you could reach—literally and metaphorically...” Jonas is saying—and I have to force myself not to roll my eyes at that last bit. That’s Jonas’ idea of pretending he’s a dumbshit like me—saying our company’s all about reaching one’s highest peak ‘literally and metaphorically’? It’s true, of course—that’s what we’re all about—but Josh Faraday would never say that particular phrase in a million fucking years.