Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
She’s more interested in my body than in my attempts for us to get to know each other. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining about the sex—if anything, it only gets better each time we get naked. But it bugs me that Maggie doesn’t make any time for herself, and it’s becoming unsettlingly obvious that Maggie needs more than sex. She needs fun. Relaxation. A life.
I don’t think the words relax or unwind are even in her vocabulary. And as an objective observer, I grow more and more troubled each time I find her asleep at the computer desk and have to carry her to bed at four in the morning.
Not that I don’t appreciate a solid work ethic, because I do. Despite what Maggie thinks, I worked hard for the money sitting in my bank account, the money I earned before Gretchen shocked me and the world by leaving me a part of her fortune. Acting isn’t all fun and games, and when I’m in the middle of an intense shoot, I barely leave my house, let alone socialize.
But in all the years I’ve been doing this, I’ve always forced myself to take breaks, to make sure my work doesn’t monopolize my life. I’ve seen a fair amount of actors crash and burn, make six films back to back and get so lost in the industry they didn’t even know who they were anymore.
Maggie might not be in the movie business, but she’s a workaholic through and through. She needs to slow down, and I’ve officially dubbed myself the man who’ll help her do that.
It’s time to step in. I promised her I wouldn’t complicate her life, but this is just plain ridiculous. As much as I love having a quiet place to hide out, how much longer can I really watch Maggie waste her life away?
At the moment, she’s on the other end of the couch, devouring a book about autism. She hasn’t gotten up in three hours. I want to suggest we order a pizza or something, but I know trying to get her to quit when she’s still absorbed in her work will get me nowhere.
Instead, I flick on the TV, instantly groaning when I see what’s on.
For the first time all afternoon, Maggie glances up from her book. Her gaze follows mine and she makes a face when she sees the entertainment segment. “Don’t these people have lives?” she grumbles.
I turn up the volume.
“Ben Barrett’s newest flame must be keeping him very busy,” the host says with a mischievous grin. “The sexy action star has been off the radar for nearly a week now and everyone is wondering how he’s been passing the time…”
“Should we tell them?” Maggie says with a tiny grin.
“Was that an honest-to-God joke?” I return with mock-amazement. “Holy shit. I didn’t think you were capable of anything but working.”
“Ha ha.”
“Early in the week, Barrett’s car was found vandalized in front of a New York City strip club,” the host continues. “It was later revealed he spent the night in a hotel with an unidentified woman…”
“They make you sound like a sleazebag,” Maggie says.
“Although rumors are swirling that Barrett is out of sight due to a secret elopement with his mysterious new flame—”
A burst of laughter rings out, courtesy of Maggie.
“—a source close to the actor admits that Barrett is keeping a low profile because of the Gretchen Goodrich scandal. Goodrich, who was the wife of Academy-Award-winning director Alan Goodrich, recently left Barrett a sizable fortune after—”
I turn off the TV with an angry frown. Damn vultures. Why the fuck can’t they just leave me alone? Why can’t they let Gretchen rest in peace?
“So…” Maggie’s curious voice breaks through my thoughts. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened with Gretchen Goodrich?”
“Sure.” I turn my head and stare her down. “If you agree to take a break for a couple of days.”
“I don’t take breaks.”
“Then start.”
She rolls her eyes. “We’ve been through this already.”
“I don’t care. I don’t think it’s healthy that you bury yourself in work and school.”
“Good thing it doesn’t matter what you think. It’s my life, Ben.”
“Yeah. Sure. It’s your life.” I hop to my feet, unable to stop a scowl from creasing my mouth. “I’m taking a shower. I’d ask you to join me, but you’ve still got, what, three hundred more pages to read?” I gaze pointedly at the textbook in her lap before striding out of the living room.
She doesn’t follow me, and I didn’t expect her to. The past three days have taught me that Maggie shuts down the moment I criticize her lifestyle.
I enter the bathroom and rip off my T-shirt and jeans before stepping into the shower stall. As the warm water slides down my body, I dunk my head under the spray and release a frustrated groan. Why am I letting Maggie’s workaholic bullshit get to me, anyway? So what if she hardly goes out? That TV piece we just saw confirms that the media storm surrounding me is still going strong, which means I definitely need to stay out of sight for a while longer. Holing up here with Maggie is the perfect solution.