Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
This is where I spend most of the time. I had the brown couches custom made to be almost like you’re are lying in bed. The eighty-inch television hangs over the sand-colored marble fireplace. A wooden bookcase sitting to one side contains photos of all my big moments in my career. A couple are also of my family at functions or at Christmas. On the other side is the hallway to my bedroom, which sits in the back of everything, and another gate stops them from going in there. I walk past the kitchen that sits on my right to the back door, and I open them to let the dogs run outside. I close the door, going straight to the kitchen to grab some water.
I grab the television remote that sits on the counter separating the family room from the kitchen. I turn it on to SportsCenter and then walk to my stainless-steel double fridge, opening it to grab a water bottle. I turn and grab an apple that sits in the middle of the island. The huge bowl sits on a marble countertop, the same marble counters all around the kitchen. The color is on the dark brown side, but the cabinets are a light brown, so the counters pop more. It came with a six-burner built-in range that I cook on sometimes—okay, maybe not that much—but my mother has cooked some delicious meals on there when she visits.
I grab my phone and order the stuff for the taco party that I’m having tonight with Candace. Hearing the dogs bark, I look out the window and make my way outside, seeing them running after each other at full speed. This, right here, is why I bought the house. I don’t even see my neighbor, or if I do, it’s far away. I walk to the end of the concrete patio covered by a wooden lanai. I have a fireplace on one side with the dog beds right in front of it. Two rocking chairs sit in front of the window by the door. My mother loves sitting in them and rocking in front of the fire at night. A grill sits on the other side of the patio, next to the outside bathroom I had installed. A white hammock hangs right at the end of the patio.
The pool in the middle of the yard surrounded by palm trees gives it a tropical feel. The dogs finally look up and see me and charge straight for me. Lilo drops the ball at my feet, and I bend over, picking it up and throwing it as far as I can and see them take off.
I play catch with them for about thirty minutes before they both lie at my feet panting. I turn around and pick up their water bowls to fill them with the outside hose. They get up right away, coming to the bowls. I leave them outside when my phone beeps, telling me someone just punched in my code at the gate, alerting me that my order has arrived. Walking inside, I go to the door right as he was about to ring the doorbell.
“Hey, Senor Evan,” Manual says, handing me a huge bag. “This is everything for you,” he says, and I nod at him. “Have a good night and keep up the scoring.” He tips his hat to me and walks back to his car. I bring the big heavy bag back into the kitchen and put it on the island and start taking out the containers. I take the plastic bag of homemade tortillas out first. Then the round container of queso is next. I open it up and smell it.
I grab the big bag of homemade chips, dipping one in and letting it melt on my tongue. I unload the three containers of taco stuff. One is beef, one pork, and the other shrimp. A bowl of Spanish rice is on the bottom. The door slams shut, and I know it’s Candace.
“Oh good, I’m just in time,” she says, dumping her purse on the table right off the kitchen. She comes over and starts opening the containers. “I’m starving,” she says, walking to the cupboard and taking out three plates. We get our tacos, and she tells me what needs to be done in the next week as we eat our dinner.
“Did you see Twitter?” she asks me when I finish my last bite of queso.
I shake my head. “No.” I pick up my plate and bring it to the kitchen. “I only keep Instagram so I can do the stories.”
She gets up from her chair and comes over, putting her own plate in the sink and rinsing it off just before she puts it in the dishwasher. She walks over to the counter and grabs the dish towel to wipe her wet hands.