Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
“I’ll take you to the storage unit now,” Charlotte says. “Two pairs of hands and eyes are better than one. We’ll go through everything, together, twice as fast.”
A wave of relief washes over me. “You’d really do that?”
“Of course. I’ll do whatever I can to help.” She taps her chin and looks around the bedroom. “Hmm. The only question is where I put the damned key for the storage unit.” She rifles through the suitcase on her bedroom floor, and not finding it there, she strides out of the room with Lucky and me following behind. In the kitchen, Charlotte opens every drawer, but the key is nowhere to be found. “Hmm,” she says. “I could have sworn I put it in my suitcase or in a kitchen drawer.”
I want to scream. But somehow, I keep my voice at a normal volume and tempo as I say, “Retrace your steps. Visualize the last time you had the key in your hand. Watch yourself holding it, and then putting it down.”
Charlotte closes her eyes and remains that way for what feels like an eternity. Suddenly, she opens her eyes and shouts, “The windowsill!” She lopes into the adjacent living room and to a windowsill, and that’s where she triumphantly holds up a key. “I put it there so I wouldn’t forget where I put it!” she says brightly. And even though I’m flooded with anxiety and impatience and dying to get to that fucking storage unit, I can’t help chuckling at her adorableness.
“It was a foolproof plan, McDougal,” I deadpan.
“Yeah, I’m smart like that.” She winks and taps her temple, and then bends down to pick up Lucky who’s been begging to be lifted. “Of course, you can come with us, baby. We’d never leave you here by your little lonesome.” She kisses his snout. “You’re gonna be our lucky charm.”
My heart skips a beat. That’s what Grandma always called her beloved rescue pup. Her lucky charm.
I clear my throat. “Ready to go? I’m feeling pretty antsy over here.”
“I just need my purse.” Off she goes, before returning a moment later with her purse in hand. But as we walk toward her front door together, Charlotte gasps and stops short. “Whoops! I’m probably gonna need shoes, huh?” Off she goes again, in her bare feet, toward the bedroom with Lucky still in her arms.
When Charlotte doesn’t immediately return, I call toward the bedroom, “What’s the hold up in there?”
“Sorry! I’m changing clothes! I don’t know if the storage unit will be warm and stuffy or if I’ll freeze my tits off, so I decided to change into layers, so I’m good, either way!”
“For fuck’s sake, McDougal!” I call back. “My poor, deceased grandma might be an unwitting porn star! Hurry the fuck up.”
“Sorry! Coming!”
I look at my watch. Shift my weight. And when Charlotte still doesn’t appear, I shout, “If you don’t hurry the fuck up, I’m gonna barf all over your carpet out of sheer anxiety.”
Charlotte appears with Lucky in her arms and calmly says, “Barf away, Augustus. I’m replacing this hideous carpet, anyway. Your puke would surely be a decorative improvement.”
I’m not sure how or when it happened, but it suddenly feels like we’re a team. United against a common enemy, rather than against each other. “Can we please go now?” I ask impatiently. “Or do you need to bake a cake first?”
“Oh, cake. God, I love cake. We should pick up a boxed mix on the way back, and I’ll make us one.”
“Charlotte!”
“Sorry. Let’s go. Wait. We should bring a water bowl for Lucky and a couple bottles for us. Who knows how long we’ll be there and we don’t want to get dehydrated.” She raises a finger. “Or hungry! I’ll pack us some snacks, too.”
She’s right, of course. About all of it. But that doesn’t mean the delay isn’t driving me batshit crazy. I tell her so, and Charlotte laughs and apologizes. And suddenly it’s abundantly clear the tension of our first interactions is long gone. Somehow, I think we’ve nonverbally agreed to let bygones be bygones. I can’t believe I mistrusted her so deeply before. Clearly, her intentions are pure here. She wants to help me, and I’m grateful for it.
Charlotte re-enters the living room with Lucky hopping along at her feet. She hands me a bag and tells me it’s packed with plenty of water and snacks for all. “You’ll have to drive,” she informs me. “My gas tank is on fumes and I’m broke as fuck, dude.”
Three days ago, I was in the same position—low on gas and broke as fuck. But ever since I discovered the amazing allure of penis puppetry, I’ve got plenty of cash to fill my tank and also buy groceries, too. As long as I keep doing three shows per day, I’m on track to pay half that tuition invoice on time. Twenty grand. Fingers crossed.