Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.
Then Makena launches into her usual rapid-fire onslaught, leaving me scrambling to get a text in edgewise.
Makena: Sadly, no. I have no idea how long it’s going to take us to get there.
Makena: Honestly, we might not make it all.
Makena: I’m SO SORRY to leave you to navigate the WAG watering hole alone at your very first game. But so far, the raccoon does NOT seem inclined to cooperate. At all!
Charlotte: The raccoon?
Makena: YES! There’s a raccoon in my food truck!
Makena: A RACCOON IS LOOSE IN MY BABY, RUBBING ITS BIG HAIRY BALLS ALL OVER MY APPLIANCES AND DEVOURING EVERYTHING IT CAN GET ITS PAWS ON, CHARLOTTE!!
Makena: And it’s HUGE.
Makena: Like the size of a small sheep. And it’s not all fur. It is GIRTHY under there. Elly tried to shoo it out with a broom, but it jumped on the end, and the entire straw part broke off.
Makena: Then it ate all the sliders I was going to bring to the game as secret purse snacks.
Makena: Then it washed its hands in my glass of lemonade!
Makena: Now it’s on top of the fryer.
Makena: Sitting there with a bag of chips, it somehow managed to open.
Makena: JUST SITTING AND TALKING SHIT AND EATING CHIPS LIKE IT’S PLANNING TO STAY THERE FOREVER.
Charlotte: Oh my God, honey. Have you called someone? Animal control? The police? Both?
Makena: Animal control is on the way, but they said it could be an hour or more. Apparently, there’s a possum situation in the park near the playground that takes precedence because of the children nearby and all. But possums are NICE, Charlotte. This raccoon is NOT nice. Seriously, I may have to rethink my favorite drink at the dive bar. I don’t know if I can support the trash panda beverage now that I have been treated so poorly by an actual trash panda.
Charlotte: Understandable. Just hang in there, okay? And don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.
Makena: Of course, you will! Just don’t talk to Dierdre, she’s an asshole.
Charlotte: How will I know which one is Dierdre?
Makena: The asshole glint in her eye, of course. One look at her, and you’ll clock that she’s the kind of wretched beast who takes pleasure in other people’s pain. Also, she’s the only WAG with blond hair down to her butt. If she tries to fuck with you, ask her if it’s a wig. She hates that.
Charlotte: I’ll just avoid her.
Makena: Good plan. I like the way you choose peace instead of violence. But I have to choose violence sometimes, Charlotte. I really do. I can’t help it. I think I should go in there and face this critter down, mono a mono, but Elly keeps pulling me away from the door.
Charlotte: Listen to Elly! Do not, I repeat DO NOT go in there. It could be rabid.
Makena: Ugh. Fine. I think it’s just a shit weasel who enjoys senseless acts of destruction, but…I’ll be good. I promise.
Charlotte: Good. Keep me updated, and I’ll cheer extra loud when Parker’s on the ice for you.
Makena: Great! Thank you. He probably won’t see much ice time since he’s just coming off the injured list. Still, I really wanted to be there to support him during his first game back. But he understands this is out of my control. Humans make plans; giant trash pandas laugh.
Charlotte: So true. Hang in there, babes.
Islide my phone back into my purse, pulling in a breath that does nothing to ease the anxiety clutching at my ribs. I’m going to have to face the wives and girlfriends alone.
That’s fine.
I’m a grown woman. I run a successful business. I’ve thrown parties for hundreds of people and celebrities without breaking a sweat.
I can handle sitting with a bunch of strangers for a few hours.
Even though Makena has gone out of her way to warn me that most of these strangers are not nice or friendly. According to her, in fact, many of them are petty mean girls and old Dierdre is a flat-out “asshole.”
My stomach twists.
Stop it. You’re excited, not nervous. Remember? You’ve got this. Just linger at the edge and be friendly, but chill. Do not engage or attract too much attention, and everything will be fine.
I roll my shoulders back, lift my chin, and make my way to the private entrance to the WAG box, where a bored-looking security guard checks my name against his list, gives me a lanyard with “VIP ACCESS” printed in bold letters, and directs me down a tunnel that’s quieter than the main concourse.
My heels click against the concrete. The sound echoes, making me hyperaware of how alone I am.
Soon, the tunnel opens into a private box with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ice. Plush stadium-style seats fill the front of the space, with couches and small café tables arranged behind them. There’s a bar in the corner next to a small buffet, and flat screens mounted on the walls play the pre-game coverage.