Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
I can see why he fell for her. And why he's worried Romeo is interested in her.
"Yes," she says. "But that's not really an issue. Especially if I've been vaping. And, well… Danny would say I'm always vaping, but Danny doesn't mind how good the sex is after that."
"Do you usually have sex high?" she asks.
"No, no, no, I see what you're doing, Doctor Vaughn. I'm not here to talk about my relationship problems. Not that I have problems. Well, no more than any normal, healthy relationship." She pushes her sunglasses back down her face. "You're intimidating. Has anyone told you that?"
"I get it a lot." I check the time on my silver wristwatch. "Do we have to be back for anything?"
"I don’t know what Amara has planned for after the first game, but I think the boys can handle it on their own. I left a note saying we'll be back for dinner," she says.
"So, we have all day to talk," I say. "Plenty of time to discuss both our relationships."
She taps her chin, considering this option for a long moment. Finally, she nods okay, and speaks softly. "I wouldn't say I'm usually high. That's more a special occasion kind of thing. Most nights, I have a few hits, or a mint, or a one milligram. Enough to relax. The equivalent of a glass or two of wine."
"Do you feel you need pot to relax?" I ask.
She swallows hard. "Usually, yeah."
"Why do you think that is?"
"Work is hard," she says. "Busy. It's a lot of pressure."
"What do you do in the, what do you call it in the industry?" I ask.
"It depends how seriously the person takes it.” She laughs. “I’m happy to call it the legal drug industry. Some insist we use technical names. Others call themselves Reefer Experts.”
“And your title?” I ask.
“Chemist,” she says. “It doesn’t have the same ring as Drug Creator, does it?”
“Not quite.” I laugh with her.
She explains a little bit about how she got into her current position, working at a startup trying to marry recreational and therapeutic drug use. Right now, they're focusing on pot, because it's legal in many states, but they've got a close eye on a lot of other substances too. A few states have legalized psilocybin. Ketamine has been legal for ages, but there are a lot of logistical issues.
She feels like a lawyer or a politician sometimes, always caught up in red tape when she what she really wants is to work on marriage of chemistry and business.
It's not what I expect from her. Not because she looks like a model. But because of the way Romeo described Daniel as a total square.
He has a fiancée who works in an industry that's still federally illegal. And he's not just okay with it. He's supportive.
The barista calls our name.
She grabs our drinks and sips hers. "Ah. Perfect." She lets out a low, deep sigh. "I know, I know, I'm only proving I'm addicted to another substance, but I swear, I can quit anytime."
"Most people have a caffeine dependency." I test my chai. It's not what I usually drink. I usually prefer more subtle flavors, but I enjoy the mix of mint and spices, the way she promised. It isn't quite balanced, but it's good, and I, too, need the caffeine.
"Sorry, I went on a tangent there. What was I saying?" She motions to the door. "Should we sit outside?"
I nod and follow her onto the small patio. We find seats on one of the low couches. It's not the most comfortable set up, but, somehow, I still feel cozy. "So… you're stressed about work."
She nods.
"Is there another reason why you can't relax?"
"Besides habit?" she asks. When I nod, she continues, "I don't do anything else to relax anymore. I used to run. I loved it. But I only do it if Daniel drags me to the hills. Which he does, every weekend. He's such a good influence. It's sickening." She smiles, but there is a sadness to it.
"Tell me more about that," I say.
"He's so perfect," she says. "And not even in a way where he expects me to rise to his level of perfection. He cooks dinner and does the dishes. If I leave a mess, he tidies it. He makes the bed every morning. If I don't, he doesn't say anything. He just does it."
"It sounds like you feel a little stifled by his need for order."
Surprise spreads over her face. "Maybe I do. But he never asks anything of me. The man does all the shopping! And most of the cleaning.”
"He likes to stay in control," I say.
She nods.
"Is that how you like things though? Or just how they are?" I ask.
"It's easy," she says. "I like that. And I'm so tired from work. But, no, I guess you're right. I have let his way take over. And sometimes I feel like a guest in my own life. So of course I need to get a little high." She shakes her head. "But it's not his fault. It's just—"