Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“Not a barefoot hippy working in her garden.”
Maven sighed. “I’m not sure I classify as a true hippy,” she said. “Not with how conflicted I am. Part of me feels like throwing caution to the wind and living my life in a tent. The other half of me wants a career and money and a nice, clean place to lay my head at night.”
“Why does it have to be one or the other?”
“It doesn’t, I guess.” She considered. “It’s just odd. I feel like the loudest inner parts of me are at war. I enjoy my job, especially the thought of using it for good. But then I think about what my job is, social media, and I just… laugh at myself. Because it’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not,” I told her. “It’s essentially you being a modern-day journalist. And trust me, the fact that you want to use all those followers you have for any kind of good sets you apart from the norm.”
She offered me a soft smile, and then another longing breath left her chest. “I miss my plant babies, and my bed. I miss my life, honestly.”
“I’m sure it’s hard, walking away from your routine for all of this.” I waved my hand in the air.
“I mean, I’m not sure I have as much of a routine as you do,” she teased. “But, yes. It’s… different.”
“In a bad way?”
“Just… different. I’m not used to such a lavish lifestyle.” She gestured to my condo. “This place costs more money than me or my family have ever seen in our lives. I flew on a private plane to and from Boston in twenty-four hours’ time. I stayed in a plush hotel suite with a balcony overlooking the city and a bathtub big enough to fit five people in it.”
“It is a lot,” I admitted.
“I’m sure you’re used to it.”
“I’ve kind of grown up in it,” I admitted, and for some reason, I felt a little ashamed. “But I guess you already knew that, judging by your comments the first night we met.”
Maven’s eyes flicked between mine, almost like she was sorry. But then, she snuffed a laugh out of her nose. “Please don’t act like you were offended. Or like you don’t enjoy the women who fall all over you or the guys who would lick your skate if you let them.”
“I’ve always wanted to be the best,” I said, taking our plates to the sink. “And not all the women fall all over me,” I added pointedly, glancing at her as I rinsed the dishes.
She rolled her eyes, popping out of her barstool to stand. “So, Vince Cool. What do you do with a day off?”
“I’ll show you,” I said. “But first… what do you want to do?”
“Me?”
I nodded. “You said you’re missing your normal life. What would Maven King be doing on a Sunday morning if she wasn’t babysitting a pro hockey player?”
At that, she folded her arms with her brow slowly arching. “You really want to know?”
“I do.”
She watched me for a long moment before shaking her head. “Alright,” she said, grabbing her purse off the island. “Let’s go, Tanny Boy. Wear something casual that you don’t mind sweating in. Oh,” she added with a wry grin. “And bring your credit card.”
“Am I taking you shopping?”
“Something like that.”
For My Eyes Only
Maven
“I can’t believe you did all this for us, Vince,” Mr. Pruitt said, smiling his signature gap-toothed smile. Mr. Pruitt was a white man, sixty-two, with long gray hair and more unbelievable road trip stories than a circus troupe “You know you didn’t need to.”
“Yeah, we’re happy just to hang out. We didn’t think we’d see you much once the season started,” Lonnie added, clapping Vince on the back. Where Mr. Pruitt was pale, Lonnie was bronzed like he lived at the beach. And to be honest, on some occasions, he did. He was also very proud of his full head of brown hair and matching long beard.
And while I usually would be hugging them and asking how they’d been, I was currently standing there on the edge of the conversation, completely shocked.
When Vince had asked me what I would usually be doing on a Sunday morning, I’d thought I’d be throwing him for a loop when I told him. Because every Sunday morning, I either made egg sandwiches myself, or grabbed some from McDonald’s, along with some orange juice, and came downtown to the park where a handful of Tampa’s displaced population tended to congregate.
It was something I started doing when I was in college, and the tradition continued once I made so many friends. While it killed me to see their situation stay the same for so long, it also filled me with joy to spend time with them, to hear their stories and show them kindness that I knew they weren’t showed often. When I had a little extra to give, they were usually the first people I gave it to. Sometimes I took them to get their hair cut. Sometimes I put them up in a hotel when a cold front swept through, which wasn’t often in Tampa, thank goodness. And sometimes, most times, I just came out to chat with them, to remind them that regardless of how some might treat them, they were still worthy of love and respect.