Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
I’m trying to make Jonas see another side to things, something he’s never been particularly good at doing, but I’ve clearly just tripped yet another Jonas-landmine—I’ve barely gotten my last words out when the dude begins literally sputtering with outrage, so Sarah steps in to speak for him.
“Josh,” Sarah says, putting her hand gently on Jonas’ forearm. “Your premise is faulty. When you buy a ticket for Disneyland, you know you’re signing up to ride a Mickey Mouse roller coaster. Not everyone signs up to ride a Mickey Mouse roller coaster when they join The Club—but that’s what they give them, anyway.”
Okay, now I’m completely confused. What the hell is she talking about? Why would anyone join The Club, except for the sole purpose of riding a Mickey Mouse roller coaster? That’s all The Club is or could ever be—a vehicle for mainlining cotton candy—no more or less—an unhealthy but delicious diet of pure sugar to be consumed once in a blue moon for a short period of time, even though you know it’s total crap for a growing boy. I mean, shit, only a fucking moron would think he could consume cotton candy as his diet’s main staple, right?
I wait for Sarah to explain further but, apparently, that’s all she’s gonna say. She sits back down on the couch and primly folds her hands in her lap.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Jonas exhales. “She means not everyone is totally fucked-up like you and me.” He clears his throat. “Or, at least, like me—you seem to have been cured of your fuckeduppedness by that stupid book.”
I burst out laughing at that one. Good times.
“She means some people are, you know, normal,” Jonas continues. He sits down on the couch next to Sarah and puts his arm around her, obviously displaying some sort of solidarity with her. Wow, he must really like this girl, because what he just said is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard him say.
“What the fuck does that even mean?” I ask. “Normal?”
Jonas doesn’t answer. (Of course, he doesn’t—because there’s no defending the idiocy of his comment.)
“Okay, fine, let’s say there are normal people out there... Why the fuck would any normal person join The Club?”
“To find love,” Jonas says quietly. “That’s what normal people want. That’s what The Club promises to the normal ones. And it’s a scam.”
I burst out laughing again. Oh my God, that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life. But Jonas and Sarah don’t look the slightest bit amused. I glance at Kat, hoping to find one other sane person in this room besides me, and, thankfully, the Party Girl With a Hyphen doesn’t disappoint—she flashes me a sexy little smirk that says she thinks Jonas and Sarah are being ridiculous, too. I match her smirk with one of my own and she flashes me a wide smile that bares her perfect, white teeth.
“It’s true,” Sarah says, like she’s defending truth, honor and the fucking American way.
“Seriously?” I say. I take a beat to study my brother’s face. But, yeah, he’s dead serious. “Did you join The Club looking for love?” I ask. I swear to God, if he says yes, then I know for sure this adorkable Sarah Cruz girl has cast a fucking spell on him. Either that, or he’s truly had a psychotic break.
Jonas looks at Sarah like he’s asking his master for permission to speak, and Sarah nods. Well, that answers that question—she’s cast a spell on him. He kisses the back of her hand. “No, I didn’t,” Jonas says.
“Well, neither did I,” I say, trying to ignore how pussy-whipped my brother’s acting right now. “I can’t imagine anyone ever would. That’s pretty far-fetched—even if someone’s normal.” I shoot an apologetic look at Sarah. Even if my brother’s acting like a flop-dick right now, that’s no reason for me to be disrespectful to Sarah. Obviously, she’s passionate about this ridiculously naïve notion of hers. “Sorry, Sarah,” I say.
Sarah nods and shoots me a half smile.
“I’m pretty sure I joined The Club because I was having some kind of mental breakdown,” Jonas says softly. “Again.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa. I shake my head with whiplash. No. Those are the exact words I didn’t want to hear coming out of Jonas’ mouth tonight. I’m not equipped to babysit Jonas through another mental breakdown. No fucking way. I’ve been doing it my whole fucking life and I don’t wanna do it anymore. Shit. And he seemed to be doing so well lately. What have I been missing?
“Though I didn’t realize it at the time, of course,” Jonas continues. He looks at Sarah. “I joined The Club because I didn’t understand what was really going on with me, what I really wanted—or what I needed. I was spiraling, man.”
My heart is thumping out of my chest. Shit, shit, shit. I don’t know what the hell to say. I thought Jonas was kicking ass and taking names lately, I really did. Work has been better than ever—the whole company is a fucking behemoth right now, thanks primarily to Jonas and his incredible instincts for deals. And he’s in the best shape of his life, too.