Chapter 11
Ali Kat
It’s hard to describe the number of ways my body aches after spending just a few days on my family’s farm. I’m using muscles I haven’t used in a decade, which says something because I work out with a personal trainer five days a week. A callous is beginning to form on my foot, and my nails are in desperate need of a touchup.
I look over at Prim, who is happily chit chatting with a cow while making it a flower wreath.
I don’t understand how we share any DNA. She’s so innocent and naive, whereas I’ve always been somewhat worldly, knowing people’s intentions. It’s one of the reasons I’m such good friends with Eva, we’re both so cynical.
Prim has opened up after sharing her screenplay with me, which is genuinely good. I didn’t make it two pages without busting a gut, and I think with a little help, we could get it in shape for submission to a film festival.
The rest of the family continues to be ice cold, ignoring me entirely when they’re not making snide remarks.
I’m fine with that.
I break up a bail of hay for the waiting cows as Prim crowns Maisy Moo with the blue-flowered wreath she was working on.
“I wish I had never agreed to do this stupid cross country camp anyway. The kids are so lazy. I keep trying to tell them thirteen miles is just as easy as five if you keep the right pace and don’t get ahead of yourself, but they keep acting like a bunch of babies.”
“They are middle schoolers. Thirteen miles must sound daunting to them,” I reply.
“You give them waaaaaay too much credit,” Prim says. “They’re just lazy.”
Sweat drips from my brow into my eyes, creating an unpleasant stinging sensation. There is never any end to work on the farm, which is something I hate. When I’m filming a movie, I have a schedule, and when I’m done shooting, I go into promotion mode. But there’s always an end. I feel like being on this farm is a special kind of hell.
My phone buzzes from inside my pocket, and I pull it out to see a message from Alistair.
I damn near drop my phone, I’m so anxious over it, part of me excited, part of me nervous.
Alistair:I want you to know the patrons at Saint Cloud are all done signing their settlements and will not be pressing charges. The bartender will be singing your praise in some upcoming interviews.
I blink, rereading the message a dozen times. Singing my praise? After I decked him? I guess that’s what money and power afford you.
Ali Kat:Thank you. You shouldn’t have had to do that.
Alistair:It’s always a privilege to help a damsel in distress.
Ali Kat:Are you referring to the bartender here, or me?
Alistair:Bartenders have to deal with this stuff a lot. The gentleman was happy to be well-compensated for his misfortune.
Ali Kat:Well, thanks.
Alistair:Almost forgot, did you receive the flowers I sent you?
Ali Kat:Doh! I completely forgot to thank you for the flowers! I’m told they were beautiful, but I wouldn’t know this because my father kind of fed them to the cows.
Alistair:Lucky cows. I can’t imagine many are accustomed to a $20,000 snack.
I feel the color drain from my face as I reread the text he just sent. Twenty-thousand dollars on flowers?
Ali Kat:I’m so sorry. My father doesn’t believe in letting things go to waste…
Alistair:No, don’t be. This is actually kind of hilarious.
Ali Kat:I’m glad you think so.
Alistair:Now, all we have to do is discuss that second date you owe me.
