Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 88656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
My response was not the one he was expecting. He floundered, obviously wanting to say something though his mouth wasn’t producing words.
“That’s what I thought.” I swallowed the last half of my drink in two large gulps and set my glass back on the bar. “You don’t even know this is wrong, do you?” I slid off my stool and left the bar, sparing a glance at Layla on my way out. She looked appropriately uncomfortable, and I just felt really, really bad for her. Jesus, I hoped she would find someone better than that asshole. And someone better than me.
4
MY CELL phone rang just after noon the next day. I rolled over and squinted against the light filtering through the blinds, opening and closing my mouth in a futile attempt to smack away the horrific case of cotton mouth I had. I found my phone on the floor beside the bed, nearly dead, and flipped it over to see who was disturbing my coma.
Dr. Washburn?
I answered hesitantly, wondering what he could possibly want. It was almost like getting a midnight call from the hospital or the police station.
“Jamie, hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time,” he said.
“No, Doc,” I groaned. “What’s up?”
“Something quite interesting happened this morning. I got a phone call from Las Vegas concerning you. Do you have anything you’d like to tell me?”
I wracked my brain, trying to come up with any possible reason Vegas would be calling. I’d stopped off at a convenience store on my way home the night before and picked up a case of beer, then gotten exceedingly wasted. In fact, my head felt like a subway accident, and my mouth tasted like I’d sheered a sheep with my teeth. But I was fairly certain I hadn’t gone to Vegas.
Still, I could play along.
“Who called? Was it the mob looking for the money I won counting cards, or the transvestite hooker I married in the Elvis chapel? Because I swear I thought she was eighteen.”
“I’m sure you did.” Dr. Washburn chuckled. “But in all seriousness, some big shot from Vegas called and requested you for an internship.”
That woke me up. “What? Why me? Do juniors usually do internships?”
“Well, technically you’re a senior now,” he pointed out. “But no, normally people take internships after graduation. However, this would only be a summer position. Summer break is sixteen weeks, so you would be in Vegas for roughly fourteen weeks. A hell of an opportunity to get some experience without interfering with school. That is, if you’re willing to give up your summer vacation.”
I laughed, wincing at the pain in my head. “Sounds like you’re pretty excited about it.”
“Of course I am. I’m always thrilled when my students show initiative. I just wish you’d told me you were applying so I wouldn’t have been blindsided. I’m afraid I was a bit clueless when the man called, but I think I recovered nicely.”
I was shaking my head as if Dr. Washburn could see me through the phone. “I didn’t apply to anything, Doc. This is just as much of a surprise to me as it is to you. More in fact, because you got the call first. I’m finding out from you. How the heck did they get my name?”
“I was told you had been recruited at the MMA event you attended several weeks ago. You must have talked to someone or done something, Jamie. They requested you specifically.”
My head was spinning. Immediately, my memory was assaulted by the image of Michael Kage winking at me as he took off behind his goons to catch a plane.
Catch you on the flip side.
And I’d bet money that plane was headed to Las Vegas.
“Wow.” I said. No other words would come to me.
“Does something ring a bell now? You weren’t drinking at that event, were you? It’s strictly forbidden.”
“No, of course not. But I never officially put in for a job. I think I would have remembered that.”
“Well, you must have some idea how this came about.”
“Hmmm, let me take a stab in the dark, and you tell me if I’m warm. I’m going to be interning as a publicist for an MMA fighter named Michael Kage. Am I right?” My heart rate picked up at the mere thought of it. Could there possibly be a sweeter gig on earth? Forget all that moping and moaning I’d done in my mind about him being sent to make me feel like shit. The truth was, I would have killed to intern for him.
“Well…” Dr. Washburn cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I’m not allowed to tell you the specifics of the position until you sign a non-disclosure agreement.”
“What the fuck, Doc?”
“Language…” he chided.
“What the heck, Doc? I have to sign a paper?”
He sighed none too patiently, and I swear I heard him drop into lecture mode. “The people who need the services of a publicist often require a certain amount of security to protect their privacy. As a publicist, there’s a good chance you will be exposed to information of a sensitive nature, Jamie. Personal information. If you’re going to make a career of working with celebrities, you’ll need to understand that they can’t let just anyone into their inner circle.”