Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
The daycare Tabby works at is high-end and looks expensive. There aren’t any snot-nosed kids here. Most of the kids are as polished and put together as the parents standing around, ready to fetch them.
Wait.
It’s not close to five.
“…Leon says we need to head east to stay with his parents,” a pretty brunette woman says to a very pregnant blonde. “But Nebraska? Really? I can’t stay with my in-laws more than a few days during the holidays. He’s talking about packing up and moving. I’ll kill Ramona if she tries to make the boys eat burgers again.”
The pregnant woman frowns in sympathy. “She doesn’t know you’re off meat?”
“Oh, she knows,” the brunette huffs, “but she thinks it’s a phase. And don’t even get me started on the redneck militias building a presence where they live.”
“Why would you need to move there?” I ask, unable to keep from interrupting.
Both women turn toward me and eye me with suspicion. The brunette sneers at me before completely ignoring my question, turning her back to me. I want to ask more about the militias and the potential move, but it’s clear by their condescending glares it’s an AB conversation and they want me to C my way out.
“Maybe Leon’s not far off base to get us out of this town. It’s falling apart. Nosy people everywhere.” She eyes me over her shoulder, hugging her purse closer to her body. “I’m sorry, but do you have children here?”
“Deliveryman,” I grumble. “Sorry. Just thought you were discussing the weather.”
The woman sneers at me before not-so-quietly saying to her friend, “When the city drove the homeless people out once and for all, I thought we’d made a turn for the better. It seems there are some just a step above that who should have gone with them.”
“But then who would bring us our Starbies?” the other woman says with a giggle, eyeing my bag with disdain.
I step out of line since it’s taking forever and I’m not one who takes well to being talked down to, peeking my head in the door to search for Tabby. Her crimson hair is pulled into a messy bun and she has a wailing toddler on one hip and is steadily texting with her long claws in the other hand.
“Tabs,” I bark out over the chaos of crying children and bitchy moms all around me.
She looks up and grimaces upon seeing me. Good seeing you too. With pursed lips, she sets the crying kid down and strides over to me.
“What?” she snaps. “Did my boyfriend send you with a peace offering for ignoring me?”
“He’s working,” I bite out, unable to keep from feeling defensive over my brother.
Her eyes roll and her ridiculously long lashes flutter at the motion. “Well?”
I set my satchel down and unzip it, thankful to see the coffee is still safely stowed in the cupholder. Pulling it out, I offer it to her, waiting for some sort of show of gratitude.
“What?” she snarls. “I’m supposed to thank you?”
Bitch.
Tabby Holmes is on the fast track to becoming like the non-meat-eating witch I’d had the pleasure of talking to moments before. I’ll be damned if I let my brother keep dating her.
“Aaron sent me to break up with you. Apparently, he can’t handle when you cry. It’s not him, it’s you.” I flash her an evil grin. “Oh, wait, maybe I fucked up the wording.”
She scoffs at me. “You’re a prick, Ty.”
“Takes one to know one, Tabs. Bye forever.”
I don’t wait to see if she flips me off or not, instead zipping up my bag to keep the sandwich hot and tucking it back under my arm. I pass by the brunette who’s managed to gather her three young boys—all lettuce-eating rabbits apparently—and wonder what it’s like for them. Their mother is a helicopter parent from the sounds of it, but that still has to be better than being a moon maniac like mine were.
As I dart around the people gathering in a messy line to pick their kids up early from daycare, I try to envision a life where we had normal parents who worried over meat consumption rather than every raindrop or storm cloud. Is it really any different for those three boys than it was for us?
My mind takes a dark turn, imagining the brunette losing her head about her mother-in-law handing her kids a cheeseburger and then her carrying out a murder/suicide like with my own parents.
Nope.
Hard to imagine.
My parents still win in the crazy category.
I dart into one of the elevators, mash the button for the top floor, and then slink to the back of the metal cage. Several suits load in after me. One guy eyes my worn-out backpack warily like I’m carrying weapons I plan on using to rob him of his stupid tie that probably costs more than what I’ll make all day. It’s a good thing the tips are so good around here because I have to put up with a lot of condescending stares that grate on my nerves.