I hopped off the trolley—while it was stopped, I’m not Reed Luca, for shit’s sake—and started the short walk toward Judy’s School of Palmistry. As outside of the box as it was, I’d been determined to be able to read palms—or have a certificate that said I could—ever since one gloomy afternoon when Reed had audaciously proclaimed that I couldn’t.
If you’d talk to my instructor Judy about the art of palmistry, she’d probably prattle on about how hands are a detailed map of who we are, and the lines within them are a result of brain-directed activity which tells us how we respond to life emotionally, mentally, and physically…and blah blah blah.
That all sounded fantastic.
But my motives were more of the self-serving type than a comprehensive step toward being self-aware. In laymen’s terms: I just wanted the diploma so that Reed would believe any line of bullshit I told him about his palms. Basically, I wanted him to do what I told him, when I told him, and Reed wasn’t the kind of guy who just went along with whatever anyone said.
I want Reed to quit smoking? Easy peasy. I’ll just tell him his palm says it is an urgent matter that he stops.
I want us to take a vacation to the Maldives? Wish granted. Reed’s palm says we need to.
If that wasn’t brilliance in manipulation form, I didn’t know what was.
Before I reached the doors to Judy’s, my phone started vibrating against my hip. I pulled it out of my pocket to see who it was.
Incoming Call: The Devil
I paused outside the entrance and took the call. As annoying as these calls usually were, this was a horse of a different color. I’d been trying to get ahold of Joe for the past twenty-four hours, and the bastard had been avoiding my calls.
“Hey, Joe.”
“I’ve got five voice mails from you, and not one of them makes a bit of sense,” he said, forgoing a greeting completely. “What’s this urgent matter you’re rambling on about?”
“Well, Joe, I’ve got an idea that’s worth gold, but I don’t have a lot of time to chat right now. I’ve got a palmistry class in ten minutes.”
“Ministry?” he fired back in confusion. “You’re becoming a nun? I didn’t even know you were Catholic.”
“Palm-istry, Joe,” I corrected. “You know, as in the art of reading palms.”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Why do I even bother asking for clarification? Pretty sure the nun gig would’ve made more sense than you paying someone to give you a bunch of hullabaloo in the form of reading lines on your hands.”
“Hullabaloo?”
“Yeah. Hullabaloo,” he retorted. “Otherwise known as a load of bullshit. Hands are hands, Lola. Not some goddamn portal into predicting the future.”
“You’re such a pessimist, Joe.”
“I’m a realist,” he corrected. “Anyhoo, I guess it’s none of my business what kind of hogwash you waste your time and money on. What’s this idea you were prattling on about?”
“It’s a brilliant idea.”
“The last time I heard those words from your lips, you wanted me to give an angry cat his own column.”
“It was Grumpy Cat,” I amended. “And that’s still a brilliant idea, by the way.”
“Yeah, right.” He scoffed. “I’m still trying to understand how having a four-legged animal on my payroll would benefit the paper.”
“One day, you’re going to open the New York Times to that cat’s face in the byline of his column, and you will feel like a total failure for not listening to me.”
“I’d love to know how a fucking cat would be capable of writing his own column.”
Obviously, he was warming up to the idea. I smiled.
“I’d write it.”
“Then, it wouldn’t be his column. It’d just be you writing another column,” he retorted.
“It’d be from his perspective.”
“How you get me to entertain these conversations is truly beyond me.”
Instead of focusing on the offensive nature of his statement, I pulled the conversation back to the matter at hand. I had a class to get to, and time was ticking.
“Grumpy Cat’s column aside, I have another brilliant idea.”
“If this has anything to do with puppies interviewing celebrities or pigs writing food reviews or even fucking clowns, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Joe. No one likes clowns.” Stephen King had pretty much ruined the reputation of clowns. Once you’d read or watched the film adaptation of It, the circus and balloon animals and red-nosed jesters spelled the opposite of happy smiles and laughing children. They were the kinds of things nightmares were made of.
“Then, what is this brilliant idea?”
“Well, what would you say if I could get one of the most sought-after columnists in the San Francisco area on your payroll?”
“I’d say keep going.”
“It’s a guy who’s been out of the game for a little while, but he isn’t short on opportunities. He’s just yet to find the right match.”
“And you think we’d be the right match?”
“Yep.”
“And what kind of column would he write?”
“A satire column without boundaries. Nothing would be off the table.” At least, I was pretty sure that was what he’d write…
“All right,” he said after a pregnant pause. “I’m intrigued. Who is this mystery man you think could fill these kind of existential shoes?”
I closed my eyes as all of the truly full-circle notions of what I was doing rushed into my mind like a stampede. “Reed Luca.”
A shocked laugh barked from his lungs. “Are you shitting me right now?”
I opened my eyes, and as the sound of hoofbeats faded into the distance, a smile settled onto my face in their wake. “Nope.”
“You honestly think he’d be a good match?”
“Yep.” I wasn’t joking, and I had no doubts. Destiny was rounding the goddamn bend, and I could smell the sweetness of the finish line.
“And this doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that you just so happen to live with this guy?”
“Nope,” I answered honestly. Reed’s mind had so much to offer, but I was already reaping those benefits. This move wasn’t even about Reed—it was about everyone else.
“This sounds like a risk, Lola.”
“I can assure you it’s a good risk. One you’ll only profit from.”
“I don’t know…”
“You do know,” I chimed in. “His one and only YouTube video still gets thousands of views daily, and the instant he left the Journal, every other paper in the area tried to snatch him up.”
“Fine,” he finally answered. “I’ll consider this, but only under one condition.”
“And what’s that?”
“I want one thousand words from him on my desk by Monday,” he announced. “I need to see what this no-boundaries satire column will look like.”
“Deal.” A victorious smile crested my lips.
Even though Reed didn’t have a clue about his future column, it didn’t matter. It also didn’t matter that I now had to convince Reed to write a column by Monday.
Just minor details.
“All right, JoJo. I’ll see you on the flip side.”
“JoJo,” he muttered, and the exasperation in his voice could’ve been heard in LA. “Sometimes I wonder why I always find myself letting everything slide with you.”
“Because you love me,” I teased. “And if you could clone me, you’d do it because I’m your favorite employee.”
“Yeah,” he said, but it wasn’t in the form of agreement. “I need a clone of you about as much as I need to give my wife another credit card.”
“Uh-oh…more shipments from Groupon?”
Joe’s wife had a penchant for buying anything and everything that came with a sale or a coupon. And Groupon was her number one go-to site. About a month ago, I’d stopped by the offices for a meeting and witnessed one of her genius purchases—The Banana Bunker.
Basically, it was a plastic container to protect your banana from getting bruised during transport, but it was ribbed and phallus-shaped. Yeah, it had looked exactly like a dildo, and by the time I saw it, Joe had been carrying it around for an entire day.
“I’m ending this call before you start talking about that goddamn banana bumper or whatever the heck it was called.”
“Banana Bunker, Joe,” I corrected on a laugh.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered. “You’re never going to let that die, are you?”
“Even when you’re on your deathbed, I’ll whisper the words ‘Remember that dildo you were using for your bananas, Joe?’ in your ear.”
“Goodbye, Lola.”
“Bye, JoJo!”
“For fuck—”
I ended the call before he could finish his cursing tirade.
God, I love riling him up.
As I slid my phone back into my pocket, I put my game face on. It was time to continue my education toward becoming an expert reader of palms—aka it was time to learn more tricks that would help me get what I wanted.
What? A girl had to get creative when her main squeeze was the most talented bullshitter in the history of bullshitters.
“Honey, I’m home!” I shouted as I strode through the door of our apartment. I kicked it shut with the heel of my Converse and left my purse and messenger bag on the bench in the entryway.
Reed and I had moved in to our humble new abode about three weeks after he’d swept me off my feet with the creepiest puppets I’d ever seen, and we’d been living here in our little world of weird and eccentric for the past three months.
It was a one-bedroom apartment located a few blocks from Golden Gate Park, and it was heaven. Between our Sunday morning ritual of feeding the squirrels with our marionettes and our nearly nightly dance parties in the living room, I’d never been happier. And bonus—good with money Reed Luca paid the bulk of the rent.
“Hey!” I called from the center of the living room. “Where are you?”
“In the bedroom!” Reed’s voice echoed down the hall.
I found him lying on our bed, listening to Jeff Buckley and reading The Rum Diary by Hunter S. Thompson.
An amused grin crested my lips. “Are you fucking with me right now?”
He quirked a brow, his eyes moving slowly, druggedly away from the pages of his book to meet mine. He made a show of glancing down at his crotch and then back to me. “Unless my dick has achieved the power of teleportation into your pants, I don’t think I’m fucking with you. Pretty sure I’d be aware of something like that.”
“Not actual fucking,” I corrected with a shake of my head and slipped off my shoes. The smartass knew exactly what I meant. “I mean the music, the book…” I crawled onto the bed until I was straddling his hips and sitting on top of him. I snatched the book out of his hands and held it in the air. “The Rum Diary? Jeff Buckley? I mean, how existential are you trying to be?”
He flashed that notorious cocky smirk of his. “I’m just being me, Roller Skates.”
“You’re weird,” I muttered and tossed his book on the nightstand.
“I’m weird?” he asked on a laugh, his hands flexing into the tops of my thighs. “This coming from the girl wearing neon yellow jean shorts and a T-shirt that says Mother of Cats. You don’t own any cats.”
“But I want to own a cat.”
He just grinned at my rebuttal.
“What?” I questioned. “I do want to be a mother of cats. You just don’t let us have any cats.” I shot an accusing finger up to point right in his face. “You’re the reason this shirt isn’t the truth.”
No shame, he laughed at that and tapped my ass with this hand. “Existential weirdos and cats aside, how’d class with Judy the palm reader go?”
“Give me your palm, and I’ll show you,” I said and held out my hands.
The line of one of his eyebrows curved up with disbelief. “Two classes in and you can already read ’em?”
“I’m a quick study.”
Before he could question me further, I grabbed his left palm and started tracing the lines with my index finger. “Hmmm…Well, this looks promising.”
“Promising?” he asked suspiciously. “Am I about to be the owner of a cat?”
I ignored the smartass and continued the charade. “See this line right here?” I asked as I traced the indentation that led from his thumb to the center of his palm. I couldn’t really tell you what the fuck it meant, but like I said, I wasn’t really trying to become an expert. I just needed the diploma so Reed would think my readings held some validity.
“Yep. I see it.”
“Well, it says you have some vices you should stop doing posthaste.”
“Vices?” he asked. “I don’t think I have any vices.”
Bastard. He was so much better at bullshitting than I was. But I wasn’t the type to give up.
“It’s showing it’s a vice that revolves around an oral fixation.”
“What?” He feigned surprise. “The only oral fixation I know of revolves around your addictive little cunt. I’m supposed to stop licking you? That sounds a tad drastic, but I guess if it’s urgent—”
“Wait,” I cut him off. I mean, the point of fake palm reading wasn’t to stop Reed from going down on me. The man had a wicked tongue, and I refused to give that up. “It’s also showing it revolves around smoke. And requires a lighter. Oh?” I acted shocked. “Do you think it’s talking about smoking?”
“Hmmm…I don’t know, LoLo.” His tone dripped with doubt. “Do you think it’s talking about smoking?”
My face was grim. “It’s looking that way.”
“You know what’s crazy?” he asked.
I declined my opportunity to answer, instead, sitting as still and as innocently as possible. He didn’t need me to be vocal, though. My silence was answer enough.
“My palm is telling me this after a good month has passed where packs of cigs have gone missing nearly every day.”
I shrugged. “Maybe it’s a sign? Like, written in the stars kind of thing?”
He just smirked. “What else does my palm say?”
“Well…” I traced more lines. “Oh! This one here represents employment status.”
“That’s the employment status line?”
“Yep.”
“Imagine if the rest of the world knew about that line?” he questioned. “It’d change the fucking world.”
“Crazy, huh?”
“Judy needs to get out there and teach more people about the employment status line,” he deadpanned.
Sometimes, it almost annoyed me how truly talented he was in the art of sarcasm. I fought the urge to laugh and redirected the conversation to where I needed it to go. “Do you want to know what yours says?”
“Of course. I can hardly contain my excitement over it.”
I ignored the sarcastic bastard. “Well…it looks like you’re about to get a new job.”
He quirked an amused brow. “No shit?”
“Nope.”
“Like the job you got me as an ostrich babysitter?”
“Not exactly,” I explained. “But you have to admit, that was a cool fucking job.”
“Oh, yeah. I loved sitting around and trying to keep baby ostriches from pecking the shit out of each other. Truly, one of my favorites.”
“Shut up. They were adorable, and I’m the best at finding you cool and interesting jobs.”
Over the past three months, I’d made a game out of searching for the oddest and most unconventional jobs in the San Francisco area for Reed. And like the laid-back, go with the flow kind of man he was, he’d just went along with each and every one.
But even I couldn’t deny a few of the jobs were downright awful.
“Professional groomsman?”
“That wasn’t a bad job!” I exclaimed. “And you looked so handsome in your tuxes!”
“Yeah. It was a bad job. I would’ve paid someone money not to have had to deal with the spoiled brides whose weddings could’ve been used as cruel and unusual punishment. If they unleashed some of those crazy women on terrorists, the world would be a much more peaceful place.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” I scoffed. “What about the live mannequin gig?” I asked. “Tell me you didn’t have the best time people watching with that.”
“Standing still for eight hours straight? Oh, yeah. That was amazing.”
“Fine. What about the fortune cookie writer?”
He smiled, and my heart flipped in my chest. I loved it when he smiled. “I actually did love that one. It’s a fucking shame they didn’t get my humor.”
“Pretty sure putting things like Only safe for human consumption until yesterday wasn’t the kind of fortune they were hoping to see inside a cookie.”
“You have to admit, it was hilarious.”
“Yeah,” I responded. “From an outsider’s perspective, maybe, but not exactly hilarious to an already paranoid mother.”
“I think she overreacted.”
“The other side of her kid’s fortune said, Seek immediate medical attention if you consumed this cookie after its expiration date.”
He just laughed.
“You’re evil.”
“And you’re determined to make me think you can read palms so I give you whatever you want.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I evaded. “Who would go through such an elaborate scheme for something like that?”
“You.”
“Pffffft. You’re being crazy.”
“What’s my next job, Roller Skates?” he asked with a grin. “Waste removal? Rodeo clown?”
“All right,” I admitted. “So I got you a job.”
“No way,” he said with overexaggerated eyes. “You got me a job? That’s such a surprise!”
I rolled my eyes, and he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me down to him. Lips to my neck, he placed soft, openmouthed kisses along my skin. “Are you going to tell me what it is?” he whispered into my ear, and his warm breath spurred goose bumps all over my body.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On how well you beg,” I whispered into his ear.
“Is this you or your perfect, greedy little cunt making these demands?”
“Does it matter?”
He smirked. “Stand up.”
“That doesn’t sound like begging.”
“Stand up, Lo,” he demanded and sat up on the bed with me still in his arms. “And then I’ll show you begging.”
I stood up on the mattress and braced my hands on his shoulders while Reed deftly undid my jean shorts and removed them, along with my panties, from my body.
“Does my new job revolve around animals?” he asked as he slid a finger across where I was already wet and aching.
“Uh-uh.”
“Children?”
My breath hitched. “Nope.”
“Crazy brides?”
“Nope.”
“Am I actually going to enjoy it?”
While his finger continued to toy with me torturously, I managed a nod and a whisper. “More than fortune cookie writing.”
“This sounds promising.”
“I’m certain it’s going to be the perfect match.”
“Any more details you’re willing to give?”
“Nope.” I shook my head. Well, at least, I thought I didn’t. I was finding it a bit hard to focus.
“So the begging shall commence?”
“Yep.”
One-word answers were all my brain had to offer as he slid one finger inside and paused.
I waited him out, but I silently begged him to cave. I wouldn’t hold out much longer, and I really wanted to hold out for a long time.
“Okay,” he finally stated. I let out the breath I was holding and melted a little around his finger all at once. “I’m going to lie back on this bed. And you’re going to sit on my face.”
“And then what’s going to happen?”
He took absolutely no time to even consider an answer. Instead, a shriek left my mouth as he yanked me forward and fell to his back in one swoop. I didn’t fight it as he situated my body with ease, his firm grip on the cheeks of my ass, directly over his face.
“What’s my new job, Lola?” he asked and swiped his wicked tongue against me.
“A job,” I sputtered out.
His assault wasn’t swift and efficient, but rather, slow and calculating, and the instant his lips wrapped around my clit, I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer. I moaned out loud and grasped the headboard with my fingers. Like I said, wicked tongue.
The vibrations from his greedy groans as he ate at my pussy only made me crazier.
My thighs started to shake on their own accord, and I braced myself for the initial waves of a delicious Reed-induced orgasm.
But it didn’t come.
I whined in frustration as he pulled his lips away.
“Need something?” he asked, his playfully sinister blue eyes staring up at me.
My hips thrust toward his mouth traitorously, and he smirked.
“What’s my new job, Lola?”
I shook my head. “Not telling.”
He licked me, once, twice, and then pulled away again.
A hazy, longing pain settled over my body.
“What’s my new job?”
“A job,” I gritted and then moaned as he tapped my clit with his tongue.
“Tell me what it is, and I’ll make sure you come.”
He’d better make sure I come. One more swipe of his tongue robbed me of the ability to hold my head upright, and with my hair tickling the skin of my back, I shivered.
“Just tell me what it is, LoLo. It’ll be over. You won’t have to suffer anymore. And after that, I’ll have time to do it again.”
“All over again?” I breathed.
“Uh-huh.”
Yeah. I considered myself a strong-willed person, but who needed to be strong-willed when there were orgasms at the end of the rainbow?
Not me.
I’ll take the rainbow and the pot of gold and the fucking unicorns, thank you very much.
“The San Francisco Times.”
He looked up at me skeptically from between my thighs.
“Your own column,” I added.
“What am I writing about?”
“Basically, anything you want.”
His blue eyes shone with intrigue. “Anything I want?”
“Pretty much.”
“Fuck, I love you.”
I nodded, but in reality, I was just saying, Yeah. Yeah. That’s great. The love and stuff, that’s really great, Reed. But for the love of God, I need to come.
I moved my hips a little, and he smirked.
“We’re not leaving this bed for the rest of the day.”
“It’s only noon.”
“Exactly.”
Oh, boy.
“Hewhoa?” Lola answered on the fourth and final ring.
I could barely understand her. Her voice was groggy with sleep, and from the look of it through the window, it was also being muffled by the pillow.
I know this seems creepy, but just go with it.
“Uh, hi,” I greeted, making my voice as nasal as I could by pinching my nose. The only problem with my technique was that I would need to remember to unpinch it every so often so I could breathe. “Is this Lola Sexton?”
I watched as she sat up slowly, the sheet pooling around her naked back, and surveyed the room for me. Obviously, I wasn’t there. I might have freaked out about the view—the unobstructed view of her sleek skin—if it weren’t for the fact that I had been the one to open the blinds this morning before leaving. Plans and all.
She’d told me about my new job only a few short days ago, and it’d taken a lot of work to pull this together, but I felt like it was important. For her and me, but really, for everyone else. I wasn’t much for show, but I wanted everyone to know one thing irrefutably—I didn’t ever want to make trouble for Lola; I wanted to make it with her. Forever.
“Yeah,” she said slowly, confused by my absence. “Who’s this?”
“This is Bobby Bunson,” I started, purposely choosing an androgynous name because I had no fucking clue if I sounded like a man or a woman. “With the San Fran Blotter.”
“The San Fran what?”
“The Blotter, honey. Anyhoo, we were hoping you’d be willing to do an interview on your thoughts on Reed Luca’s new article—”
She jumped out of bed—sadly on the other side so I couldn’t see anything—and cut me off as she did. “Sorry, Bobby. I’m not interested in any interviews.”
I smiled at her answer, and then smiled even deeper when I thought about how she’d react to what I had to say next.
“Oh, well. Shoot. That’s a shame. We were really hoping to have an answering piece to Reed’s interview, sort of like your col—”
“I’m sorry, what?” she nearly shrieked. I laughed as silently as possible and took a drag from the e-cigarette she’d gotten me in what I knew was a bold move to get me to quit. Palm reading, missing cigarettes, this new fancy, as she’d described it, e-cigarette—after a few months with me, she was becoming quite the little manipulator.
“Reed’s interview, dear. He’s supposed to meet us this morning. In about fifteen minutes or so, in fact.”
“Oh, he is, is he?” she seethed. I did my best not to break character as I watched her stomp around our room half naked, scooping clothes from the floor at random and pulling them onto her body in sharp, agitated movements.
“Well, yes, dear. We can do your interview in a couple of days, though, if you’re not available as soon…”
“Oh, I’m available,” she railed, turning to face the window and giving me the perfect view of her absolutely magnificent…face. Both fortunately and unfortunately, she’d managed to pull down a shirt by that time. “Where’s he meeting you?”
“We can conduct the interviews separately—”
“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. You just tell me where to be, and I’ll be there. I have something to give that… I have something to give him anyway.”
“Muddy Waters Café, on Valencia.”
Her answering smile was pure evil; I fell in love all over again.
“I know just where it is. I’ll see you there, Bobby.”
I barely had to play a role to respond to that. “Can’t wait.”
Exactly fifteen minutes later, after quite a bit of hustling on both our parts, from a booth in the back corner, I watched Lola stomp into the Muddy Waters Café on a mission. Searching for the mystical Bobby, and me, of course, she scanned the tables with barely restrained impatience.
She wanted my head, and she wanted it on a platter. Now.
God, she is the best.
With a nod of my head, our previously agreed upon signal, Annie moved from her position by the kitchen and intercepted.
“Annie?” I read on Lola’s lips. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you wearing?” I heard Annie ask loud enough for me to hear. Lola looked down at herself subconsciously. Her outfit wasn’t matched, a mishmash of my oversized T-shirt and a short jean skirt of her own, but she looked nothing short of spectacular.
Lola opened her mouth to respond, but Annie cut her off again. “I like Reed, but wearing his clothes is taking it a little far. Even for you.” Man, she was a pro at avoiding the subject.
Meanwhile, I scooted out of the booth and ushered the rest of the crew—her family, mine, Brandon, Joe, Jen, and Abby out of the kitchen. The actual employees let out a huge sigh of relief. I’d had our friends and relatives packed in there like a clown car.
I sent them out first, in a single-file line, and one by one, listened as Lola shrieked a little louder.
When my turn came, she greeted me with a healthy punch to the shoulder.
I went back a step, rubbed at the small impact zone, and laughed as I did.
“What the hell is going on here?” she asked, basically everyone we knew looking on. “Did you do an interview for the San Fran Blotter?”
Joe laughed out loud at my made-up tale, and then he shrank into the background of the line when Lola burned him with lasers from her eyes.
“No.”
“Then, what the…” It all hit her at once, and horror made the creases at the corners of her mouth stand out. By the way, don’t ever tell her that I mentioned the creases at the corner of her mouth. “Oh, sweet Jesus, you’re Bobby?”
“I am,” I admitted proudly, a little shrug of my shoulders emphasizing my lack of shame.
“You are such an asshole!” she shouted, reaching out to maim me in some way, but I twisted the trunk of my body in successful defense.
“Hey, watch it, Lo,” I teased. “Mixed company here.”
Reminded of the other people with sudden alarm, she looked up to them and back to me again. “What is this?”
“It’s your launch party!” Annie yelled, stealing my thunder.
When I looked to her, her eyes were apologetic but not too much. She shrugged. “I was excited.”
“Our launch party?” Lola asked, pulling my attention back to her. “What does that even mean?”
“The launch of our lives.” Confusion spread even deeper into the desperate pools of her eyes.
I rolled mine, pulled her into my arms, and whispered directly into her ear. “It’s like a wedding. Except, a whole lot less legal, and we skip all of the boring stuff and go straight to the cake.”
All of the angst melted out of her body and right to the ground. “Tell me the cake is coming soon, and I might forgive you for this in this lifetime.”
I smiled. “That’s the point, Lo. This party confirms to our families and friends what we already knew—I’ve got that long to wait.”
The San Francisco Times
July 15th
Reed This, Revised: Launch Party
By Reed Luca
I’m back, folks—and better than ever.
It’s been a while since you’ve heard from me, and I don’t think it takes an investigator to figure out why. But, for the sake of the not so innocent, let’s talk in hypotheticals.
Say you’ve got something going for you that seems like it couldn’t get any better. Something that feels natural and easy. Something that brings you to life and gives you purpose.
But now let’s say that as your angle of attack shifts; it no longer aligns with the people in charge. The man. The leeching, bloodsucking authority that tells you what you can and can’t say or do at any given time.
That’s where I found myself a few months ago.
I had a choice to make, and it took me a little time, perspective, and help to do it.
It’s okay to go after what you want, and it’s okay to let people help you do it.
Because your support is your greatest strength. Your persistence is a necessity. And your happiness is paramount.
Take control—even if the best thing you can do with that control is turn it over to someone else. After all, it is your life. It’s up to you who pulls the strings.
Reed This: It’s never too late to have a launch party for life. Get living. Get loving. And don’t ever stop.
THE END
Love Lola and Reed?
to read the next book
from us, Alex in Wonderland!
#MattHadder #hilariouslytwistedtales
#standalone
Plus, stay up to date with them and us by
You may live to regret much, but we promise it won’t be this.
Seriously. We’ll make it fun.
If you’re already signed up, consider sending us a message to tell us how much you love us. We really like that. ;)
Follow us online:
Website:
Facebook group
| | |