Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 138526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
“OMG, you have Sing IT!” She actually said O.M.G. instead of oh my God like the rest of us losers.
“I do,” I reply.
“You sing?” Mr. C asks, disbelief marring his handsome features. He really is very handsome to look at. Not that I’m being creepy or anything.
I compare it to going to a museum and looking at a piece of pretty art. It’s great to look at occasionally, but I don’t want it in my apartment within touching distance.
“I don’t,” I reply using the same tone as when I said I do, and he chuckles.
Ha. I made a funny.
I drain my whiskey because I just know she’s going to make me sing with her. She sets both microphones up and starts flicking through songs.
I need more whiskey.
I pour myself three fingers’ worth and smile when Mr. C’s glass, hand, and arm appear over my shoulder. I pour him some too.
A Disney song starts… eff my life.
Approximately fifteen minutes and another whiskey later.
“A WHOLE NEW WORLD!” Maria sings at the top of her lungs.
“A new fantastic point is through!” I continue, slurring my words a little, swaying on the spot, ignoring Mr. C as he laughs and falls sideways onto my sofa.
“NO ONE CAN TELL ME NO!”
“Or where I’m going!”
“Those aren’t the words.” He’s laughing so hard now his eyes are squeezed shut.
“OR SAY I’M ONLY DREAMING!”
“Unbelievable sights…”
“You already sang that part!” He sits up and wipes his eyes on his sleeve, still laughing and choking on it. “You’re supposed to read the words on the screen.”
“I can’t see the words on the screen,” I yell at him, playfully angry. I push my glasses up my nose and collapse on the sofa beside him. The song hasn’t ended yet, so I shove the microphone into his chest, making him grunt. His chest is so firm.
I want to poke it with my finger.
I don’t. But I want to.
“Your turn. I’ve done like three.”
“Pick a song I know,” he tells his daughter who is still singing her heart out.
“I’m doing a solo, Daddy,” she snaps and goes back to it.
“My head is spinning.” I giggle, watching the little girl bend her legs and yell out the words to Let It Go. “I drank way too much whiskey.”
“Me too,” he agrees, eyes on his daughter too. “I don’t normally drink.”
“You work too much.”
He laughs at me incredulously. “You work just as much as I do.”
“True,” I reply, feeling giddy and less uptight now. “Maybe more these days. I can’t stop.”
He stretches his body, waiting for Maria to pick something he can sing to us.
She instead yawns really loudly and stretches her body just like her father just did.
Mr. C looks at his watch and blinks. “Yikes… I best be getting her home. It’s getting late.”
I almost feel disappointed.
“Just one more song, Daddy,” she begs, pouting at him.
He glances at me through the corner of his eye and holds his hand out for the mic. “Not tonight, Maria. Rose wants to sleep.”
“Are you trying to say I look bad?”
He laughs nervously. “I feel like no matter what way I answer this, I’m chancing a slap around the face.” Standing, he stretches again and puts his phone to his ear. So does that mean he thinks I’m ugly? Not that I care. “Bring the car around, we’re ready to go.”
“I’ll walk you out,” I say, catching Maria who throws herself at me to hug me. We both stumble because I’m a little tipsy and she’s a solid little lump. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“Maria insisted,” he answers, scratching the back of his head. “We were in the area already visiting family.”
“Your sister?” I ask because I know that she only lives a couple of apartment buildings down from me. He nods in reply. “She’s nice, I like her.”
I’ve met her a few times, they work together but she’s more sexy science geek and not really interested in the sales side of the business so it’s rare we end up all working together. I know her mostly from when she’s come to take her brother for lunch, or he has needed me to call her to set up an appointment for something or other.
He clicks his tongue against his palate and points his thumb at the door. “See you at work tomorrow. Sleep in. I won’t need you until one.”
“You underestimate how much work I have to get done. I’ll be in at eight like always.”
“Fine, but I’ll bring the coffee this time.”
“No!” I blurt, placing my hand on his bicep but then I quickly release it because ewww. Touching is flirting to men… isn’t it? I don’t want him to think I’m coming on to him. “Don’t… I have to have it a really particular way.”
“It’s coffee.”
“But if it’s not the right coffee then my day is wrong.”