Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
My phone in my pocket buzzes with an incoming text. Normally, I ignore my phone when I’m on vacation with my family, but this time, I feel inclined to take a quick peek in case it’s Cameron calling with an update on the negotiations with the network.
After retiring two months ago, I looked at all my options and offers and decided I’d like to join the most popular game-day broadcast every week during the season. The thing is, though, I’m only willing to sign on for a couple years to begin with, in case I find out the reality of being on TV as my actual job isn’t as fun as it sounds. Also, no matter what, I’ll only sign on to do it if they agree to pay me what I’m worth. Why bother otherwise?
Admittedly, I don’t know what I’m worth, exactly, in this context, but I figure I’ll know it when I see it. There’s no doubt I’ll massively improve the show’s ratings. That’s the Roman Maguire effect, baby. Which means I’ll improve the ratings of the show that follows. Whatever else happens, I want to get paid more than any other talking head has ever been paid on the show. I feel like that’s fair, and Cameron thinks so, too.
When I peek at my phone, the text that’s landed on my screen is, indeed, from Cameron. But he’s not sending an update on the negotiations; he’s sending me a link to some random article from The Denver Post.
Cameron: Remember that guy in Denver I got to follow Iris around for you after Hawaii? He just sent me this, along with some details that aren’t public knowledge.
The link that follows the text is an article from two days ago. The headline reads, “Brandon Gladstone of Viral Fame Arrested for DWI After Crashing into Parked Police Car.” I click on the link and scan the article, but it’s not all that interesting. The only details it adds to the headline are the location of the accident and the fact that Brandon and his passenger, an unnamed woman, both suffered “non-life-threatening injuries” in the accident. The last line of the article reads, “Mr. Gladstone is presently in stable condition in an undisclosed hospital, awaiting transfer to jail after medical clearance.”
Just as I’m finishing the brief article, Cameron sends another text.
Cameron: One of the EMTs who arrived on the scene is buddies with our guy in Denver. Apparently, Brandon was getting a blow job from his passenger when he crashed, and upon impact, she chomped down and basically bit off the tip of his dick.
“Oh my God,” I blurt.
“What?” Iris asks, her eyebrows raised with concern.
Shit. “Nothing. I’m reading a text from Cam about a jerk who unexpectedly retired early.” From having a working dick attached to his body.
I check on Maddox, and then Ivy, and when I’m sure they’re both fine and Iris has eyes on our beloved daredevil, I tap out a reply to Cameron.
Me: At least his dick died doing what it loved most.
Cameron: Bwahahaaa!
Me: Thanks for telling me about this. Today was already a great day, and this made it even better.
Cameron: Are you going to tell Iris?
I glance up at my wife. She’s gazing lovingly at Maddox at the moment, as he clomps around like a madman in his rubber boots. While I’m still looking at her, Iris’s blue eyes find mine, and she smiles radiantly.
“Thank you for buying this place for us,” she says. “I love it here so much.”
“I love it, too. It’s my second favorite place in the world.” I don’t need to name my first. Iris knows full well it’s our home in Malibu. The oasis we’ve created with the little family we love so damned much.
“I’ve got so many fond memories of this place from my childhood,” Iris says wistfully. “Also, from the week we spent together after you came here to beg me to give you a shot.”
“No lies detected.”
We both laugh.
“I didn’t know how I was going to convince you,” I add. “All I knew was I wasn’t leaving OB without you.”
“Don’t start lying to me now, Roman Maguire. You knew from the start I’d melt into a puddle at first sight of you.”
“I hoped, but I didn’t know.” I wink.
“A fish!” Maddox screams. “Look, Mommy!”
Iris jerks her attention to Maddox. “Where, bubba?”
“Right dere!” Maddox shouts, pointing frantically at the water. “Oh. He gone now.”
“Gee, I wonder why,” Maverick deadpans.
“He probably had to go to school,” I say, making Iris chuckle and Maverick roll his eyes.
“Buh-dum-cha,” Iris mutters.
“Momma, please,” Maverick says. “Don’t encourage him.” To me, he adds, “Your dad jokes aren’t funny, Dad.”
“That’s literally the whole point of dad jokes—to be so un-funny, you’re funny.” I laugh at his annoyed reaction. “Would it kill you to occasionally laugh at my jokes to make me feel good about myself?”