Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
He nods his head. “There is light, Viktor. You just have to work to get there. Then you have to work harder than everyone else to keep it. Some recover easier than others, but every day that you fight is an extra day with the light.”
I don’t say anything else and neither does Jeffrey while we order our burgers. We discuss baseball as we eat, and then when we finally make it to the meeting, I know that I’m going to make it to ninety-three days. But I know that getting to ninety-four will be another hurdle.
When I finally leave him at the end of the night, I hand him back his white chip. “This is for you,” I tell him. “Save it for next time.”
“I will,” he says and then looks at me. “Go home, Viktor, and get some sleep.” I nod at him. “Use my number if and when you need it.”
“I will,” I say, then turn and walk away. My hand goes to my pocket, and I grab my phone. I sent Matthew a text right before I went into a meeting asking to sit down with him. I also sent one to Zoe apologizing for my mood today. I scroll and see that Matthew is the only one who answered me.
Matthew: How about you come out and spend the day tomorrow? It’s Sunday; you can meet the family.
I don’t know if I should go or not, but I know I have nothing else going on, so I answer him.
Me: Sounds good. What time and what can I bring?
I see the button with three dots come up.
Matthew: Anytime after ten and bring yourself.
He follows that with his address. Bring myself. I don’t think they really want a recovering drug addict who just feels like he went ten rounds with Mike Tyson. The same guy who was a total dick to Zoe, and she didn’t deserve it.
I open my map and put in the address to the loft. I see that it’s a forty-seven minute walk. I spend the forty-seven minutes listening to the noise of New York City—the honking, the zooming of the cabs down the street, and the sirens. So many fucking sirens.
When I finally open the door to the loft, I’m exhausted. I barely make it through the shower, and by the time I collapse on the bed, my body gives in. I finally get the sleep that evaded me last night, and this time, I keep my demons at bay.
Chapter Eight
Zoe
“I love my girl time,” Karrie says from beside me as she lies on the couch with one eye open. I look over at her and then back at the coffee table in front of us. “I need my girl time,” she says, looking at all of us one at a time.
After I texted them about drinking, they were all up for the challenge. We’ve all spaced out on the couches in Zara’s living room. She has three huge couches with deep cushions. You just sink into them and think you’re in heaven. They are so big that we aren’t even touching each other.
“I haven’t had sex in six months,” Vivienne says, and we all look at her with mostly shock on our faces. Vivienne has been Karrie’s best friend since forever. She moved over from France so long ago, but her accent is still there.
“What do you mean you haven’t had sex in six months?” Allison sits up on her side of the couch on the other side of Karrie and me. Vivienne lies on a couch all by herself with one leg hiked up on the back of the couch while the other leg is flat on the couch, and her arm dangling off the couch holding her wine glass.
“I mean, I haven’t had sex in six months,” she says, rolling to her side and taking another sip of wine. “I’m thirsty.” She looks at her wine glass. “For cock.”
“But why?” I ask her. “You have sex all the time.”
“I don’t know why, Zoe.” Her voice comes out a touch higher.
“Have you tried to have sex with someone lately?” Karrie asks her. “You are always out.”
“I am trying. Just none of them are”—she starts snapping her fingers, trying to come up with the right word—“eligible.”
“That isn’t the right word,” Karrie says to her, and she glares at her.
“Who cares what the right word is,” she says, flabbergasted. “My vagina is probably full of cobwebs.”
“It’s not that bad,” Allison says.
“When is the last time you had sex?” She looks over at me.
“Three weeks ago,” I tell her, and everyone looks at me. “What?” I shrug. “It was with another agent. We just pulled out the deal of the month, and well, we had pent-up tension that needed to be released.”
“Only you would talk about sex like it’s a merger,” Zara says, and I ignore her and look back at Vivienne.