Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“You aren’t really expecting me to get up to accommodate you, right? What’s the saying, ‘the early bird gets the worm.’ Oh, look who got the worm,” I tell her. Her eyes go to slits as she huffs and walks to the empty seat in back of us.
“You really need to get her medication.” I look over at Tyler, and if I didn’t know better, I would say he’s trying not to laugh.
Chapter Five
Tyler
Trading in angel wings for baby booties! Was football’s golden boy in the delivery room?
So this is what it’s like to travel with reporters, I think from my chair. Looking around the plane, I see them typing away on their laptop or their iPhone. As I look over at Jessica, she has her laptop open, and a Word document fills the screen. Her words, I assume, will be flowing in a flurry of keystrokes, but she isn’t stressed like the others. Nope. I do a double take as I see she’s playing Candy Crush on her phone. With her guard down, I take a minute to look at her out of the corner of my eye because she’s fucking hot. But that isn’t the problem. The problem is she’s also a pain in my fucking ass.
“I smell wood burning,” she says while still playing her game, her eyes never glancing over to look at me. We’ve been on this flight for about three hours; only ten more to go until we touch down in South Korea, which is the first leg of our tour stop. At least that’s what the daily itinerary tells us. Cassie knows the full itinerary, and although she has told me maybe five or six times, I can’t remember.
“What are you talking about?”’ I ask her; her eyes remain stuck on that game.
“You’ve been staring at me for the past ten minutes without saying a word. In that time, you’ve already read my article,” she says, and then finally she must have died or whatever the hell happens in Candy Crush because she looks up at me. I see that, unlike the rest of the women on this flight, she’s wearing practically no makeup. “You’ve also been thinking for the past ten minutes, hence wood burning, and I know you’re dying to ask me a question, so go ahead.”
I turn toward her, leaning on the side of the chair. “How do you know I want to ask you something?”
She mimics my posture, turning in the seat and putting one foot under her leg. “You started strumming your thumb on the tray table. So either you have a question to ask or you’re a nervous flyer.”
I don’t answer her right away. It’s not because I don’t have a snide comment but because I’m taken aback that she noticed the habit I have when I honestly want to ask a question, but I’m not sure if I should. I’m about to answer her when I look up and see Cassandra standing there. “They have your food ready for you,” she says, and I just nod at her.
“I’ll be there in a second,” I tell her, and she looks at me and then leers at Jessica, who meets her leer with a megawatt bite-me smile. Cassie just nods and walks back to the front where the tables are.
“Is she going to cut your food for you and feed you, too? Maybe tie your bib so you don’t dribble?” Jessica says, trying not to laugh at her own joke.
“She’s my assistant,” I inform her. “That’s what she does.”
“You’re thirty-five years old. If you don’t know how to eat by yourself, we have bigger issues,” she says, and her phone beeps. She looks down at it, and I see the professional journalist in her come out. Her back goes straight, she looks back, and her fingers fly over the keyboard. When she presses send, I hear all the other phones ping and beep simultaneously.
“Fuck.” I hear the three blond journalists shriek from beside me, and then I hear Jim and Jake laugh out loud.
“Well done, Jess!” they yell from the back, and she raises both her hands in the air.
“What just happened?” I ask her, not even sure what the fuck is going on. I look around and see that everyone is now going nuts typing on their own laptop.
“I’ll tell you what just happened,” she says, closing her computer. She holds it in her hand while she closes the tray table and stores it in the armrest. She grabs her Louis and slides the computer in it. “I got the scoop before everyone else.” I watch her, her back still straight, her leg now crossed over the other. “You can say and think what you want about me, and you can swear and curse that I’m on this tour, but I’m here for one simple reason. I’m the best at this.” Even though I roll my eyes at her, she doesn’t stop talking, but she does unbuckle her seat belt. “Even you can’t deny it. Here are the facts.” She leans in. “No one gives a shit if you spend six months working out; they care about what you do when you’re not working out. Who you do; who you don’t do. What pisses you off, and what doesn’t. The rest of the bullshit is just the proverbial icing on the cake. They want the juicy tidbits, the lies you tell, the sweet nothings you whisper. The dirty little secrets sell; you and I both know that.”