Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“That’s tough,” I comment. “You know, the unpredictability of hours or money.”
“Yeah . . . but that’s Avery. She’s amazing.”
“You ever think that’s why she hasn’t realized yet that you’re . . . you?” I tease.
“It’s definitely crossed my mind,” Winston admits. “But I’m different than before too. Or as much as I can be.” A shadow crosses over his face, and his bright smile fades into a frown in a matter of seconds. Back to the hard shit, it seems.
“Sounds like we’re moving into the bad? Or the ugly?” I prompt, not tiptoeing into it. I’d rather rip the Band-Aid off and take the scab with it.
Winston scoffs. “Yeah. So after school, I came home and started working for Uncle Jed full-time. Avery was still in school, so I went balls to the wall for the company, getting in on every project they’d let me in on and learning everything I could. It was good at first. The other people accepted me, saw that I was trying to work hard and listening more than talking. I felt like I was growing, putting my degree to use, and I advanced up the chain quickly. Not because of my name, though it didn’t hurt,” he says sardonically, “but because I’m damn good. I am, Wyatt.”
It sounds like he’s trying to convince me. What he doesn’t realize is that in the past few years, I’ve learned a few things myself. “I don’t doubt that, Winston. You were always smart, you just fucked off. And yet somehow managed to still get As and Bs.”
He nods appreciatively at the compliment.
“This latest project is a bitch, though.” He shakes his head. “It’s years in the making. Research, politics, plans, contracts. It’s big, bigger than anything Jed’s done. He says it’s going to be his crown jewel.”
“Are you talking about the subdivision thing? I saw a big billboard on my way into town and then a bunch of signs saying to vote no to rezoning. Along with the Fuck Jed sign, though I guess I’m not sure if that’s about the subdivision thing or in general from Etta.”
Winston nods, his face serious. “I don’t think any of us expected there to be so much pushback. Fuck, I think Jed thought everyone would see him as the savior messiah, bringing us out of the dark ages into the bright light of the future. But there’s a lot of outrage, from more than half the town. And Dad’s taking the brunt of it, having to walk the line carefully between his roles for the city and his relationship with Jed. He started drinking a while ago, stressed out and exhausted. It’s not constant, or at least I don’t think it is, and we all watch closely, but it’s too often. He’s falling apart in front of my eyes, and I don’t know how to help him or what to do. I thought the wedding might help, give him a happier focus, you know, but even that went wonky.”
“How so?” I ask.
The sigh that passes Winston’s lips is one of full surrender. “Jed. As soon as Avery and I announced the wedding and started making plans, Jed pulled me into his office. He offered to pay for the wedding.”
“Please, for the love of all fucks past, present, and future, tell me that you told him no,” I beg. I know my Uncle Jed and how he works, and what Winston just said has danger written all over it.
“I tried, but you know how he is,” Winston says forlornly. “Avery and I wanted something small. She’d have been content with the two of us at City Hall. She didn’t grow up this way, Wyatt. When I asked her for her wildest wedding fantasy, she talked about a cake from the local bakery, flowers from a farm out in the country, and a dress that made her feel beautiful. She wants everyone to smile and dance, eat, and have a good time. That’s it.”
“And now that Jed’s involved?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“It’s become this cable-channel fucking monstrosity of a wedding, with everyone from work, and I don’t mean the people I actually see. I’m talking vendors and business associates. He acts like my wedding is a networking event, for fuck’s sake,” he huffs. “It’s still at the house, I made sure of that because I want to get married in the garden out back, but that’s about the only thing the same. There’s going to be big white tents, a live band, and ten thousand dollars’ worth of champagne. Avery doesn’t even like champagne! She’ll probably have a white wine and call it good.”
“What else?” I prompt him, leading him to a big reveal I can feel beneath his fretting about drinks and tents.
“It’s a lot, Wyatt. We’re over a hundred grand at least. And rising . . . daily.”