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)
“It’s not every day they retire,” Zoe says, and I glare at her.
“They aren’t even retired. They are retiring”—I gulp more wine—“in three months. We’ve been toasting them since August when they announced it.”
“I don’t make the rules. I just live by them,” Vivi says, wiggling her eyebrows. “Now, let’s go before we get stuck in a shitload of traffic.”
I finish my glass, then set the glasses in the sink and run out to meet them in the Town Car. “Well, this is surprising,” I say, getting in and earning a punch in the arm from Zoe. “Ouch,” I say, touching my arm. “I was just pointing out it’s surprising Ed’s working on Saturday.” She winds up again, and I jump back. “Enough.”
As we make our way to the arena, all three of us are on our phones instead of talking to each other. “Are you still following Ed?” my sister asks me, and I turn and look at her.
“No.” I shake my head. “I blocked him. Why?”
“Um,” she says, and I grab the phone from her. There on the screen in an Instagram picture is Ed with a brunette.
I look at her, and now Vivi is leaning over Zoe to see. “It could be a friend from work.”
“Yes,” Vivi says, “who he fucks.” I open my mouth. “Her hand is on his stomach, and his is on her shoulder.” I look down and see that she’s right. “You only pose like that with someone you’ve been naked with.”
“No, it’s not,” I say, looking at Zoe to help me out, and she shrugs her shoulders. “I have posed like that with Justin countless of times,” I say, mentioning our little brother and then looking at Vivi who does a disgusted face.
“I don’t really think you have.” I grab my own phone now and scroll to the album that we have together. Standing at six foot five, my brother’s a monster. With jet black hair and light blue eyes, he’s my father’s clone. “Okay, fine,” I say when I finish looking at all the pictures and don’t find any that support my claim. I grab Zoe’s phone and go through his pictures now, and there is only one more with this woman. “Brenda.”
“She sounds horrible,” Zoe says and puts her hand around my arms.
“She looks like she doesn’t give him anal,” Vivi says, looking at her own phone, “and he looks like he hasn’t had a good blow job since you left him.”
“He didn’t really like foreplay,” I almost whisper, and Vivi’s head snaps up. She’s looking at me like I just told her Santa never really existed.
“What?” she whispers, and I swear she looks like she is going to cry.
“I mean, we did it, but every time I wanted to do it”—I look at Zoe who just shakes her head, telling me not to continue, but the words just come out—“he was not into it.”
Vivi puts her hand to her mouth. “Are you sure you were doing it right?”
I throw my hands up. “Yes, I’m sure. I even watched porn before I did it to make sure I was, you know …” I motion with my head up and down.
“But did he”—she looks down at my vagina and then looks up—“you know?”
“Stop,” Zoe says, “you should stop there.”
“Once,” I tell her. “He didn’t really enjoy it.”
“Oh, my God.” Vivienne slaps window. “How many times did you guys have sex?”
“A couple of times,” I tell her.
“A week?” she questions.
“A month,” I tell her. “He was busy and under stress.”
She throws her had back and moans. “But the couple of times that you did it went on for hours, right? Like all night?”
Now, I’m the one shocked, and I gasp. “No, I mean it’s hard for men to get it up again after they …” I use my hands going big and small.
“This is worse than I thought,” Vivi says, and then Zoe looks at her.
“Oh, trust me, it’s worse,” Zoe says, and then Vivi looks back at me. “There was only a happy ending for one of them.”
“Shut the front door,” Vivienne shrieks at the top of her lungs, and the car comes to a stop.
“I had happy endings.” I glare at Zoe, who equally glares at me. “By myself.” Vivienne doesn’t have a chance to answer because her door is opened, and she has to get out.
I smack Zoe’s arm, and she laughs, getting out of the car, and I follow. “This explains why you are always wearing black,” Vivienne says, and then I look at her.
“Can we please not talk about this?” I tell her, and she just nods.
“My lips are sealed, but honey, you need to get laid,” she says and turns to walk to the entrance used by the players and family members. “But tomorrow, that’s another story.”