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Dear N,
Sorry, it’s been a little bit since my last letter, but it’s been fucking chaos here. I don’t even know where to begin.
We’ve had some apprentices start, so that’s been helping with the workload. Thankfully, because I had to have a couple of days off to help a friend, but that’s not even the biggest news. My cellmate from when I did time showed up out of the blue, and it’s kind of shaken me, if I am honest. I know out of everyone you would understand what this means because you’ve been with me through all of this, N… I just don’t know what to do. She’s definitely got something in mind for me, I’m just not sure what that is, and I am concerned for those around me and for my flower business too.
What if she comes after everything I have built?
I’d love your advice because I know I can trust you to give it to me straight…
I wish I could see you right now and talk this out with you in person. I feel like you understand me so well and could really help me out with this bullshit.
Anyway, ignore me. I’m just emotional. I probably won’t even send this. But in case I do, just know I am okay. Just trying to figure my shit out.
Love you always,
G xoxo
Sitting back in my chair, I stare at the blinking cursor and bite my bottom lip.
Why does this feel weird?
I’ve been writing to ‘N’ for years, consoling him, using him as my go-to person for moments like this.So why does writing this letter feel all kinds of wrong right now?
Tapping my foot on the carpet, my thoughts shift to Hoodoo and what he would think of me writing to ‘N’ like this. I know Hoodoo and I aren’t officially together yet, but is me writing to ‘N’ in the realm of things you shouldn’t do when you’re kind of seeing someone?
Swallowing hard, I click save on the letter but don’t print it. I don’t have it in me to send it to ‘N’ right now. Not while I still have to figure out what Hoodoo and I really are. Because if whatever this is between Hoodoo and me is something, then I can’t write a letter like that to ‘N.’ It’s inappropriate to confide in him before I talk to Hoodoo.
I need to sort my head out because this is spinning me around a little too much.
Suddenly, my cell beeps, pulling me out of my rampaging thoughts, and I grab it glancing at the screen. I smile, seeing Hoodoo’s name with a text message.
HOODOO:I’m gonna bring us some takeout tonight when you’ve finished work. What do you feel like eating? My treat. And yes, my cock is an option, but I also want you to have some sustenance and sexual gratification. So PLEASE choose something with nutritional value as well as the ginormous temptation of my tonsil tickler.
My eyes bug out of my head as I throw my head back, letting out a huge belly laugh. My entire body shakes as my eyes well with tears as I swipe them away. “Fucking hell!” I swipe my screen and press call on his number with soft giggles still coming from my throat as the phone rings, and soon after, he answers.
“Good morning. Are you calling to tell me your order for dinner tonight?” he asks smugly.
I sink back into my chair, feeling lighter. Somehow, Hoodoo has made my mood go from complete panic to relaxed and calm with one single text.
How can he do that?
“You think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you?” I fire back at him.
He chuckles, sounding blasé. “Look… I’m happy to have Chinese or Indian. Hell, I’ll have pizza if you want to go full junk food—”
“Don’t play coy with me, mister. You know what you did.”
“Do I?” He chuckles.
I can’t stop smiling, so much so that my cheeks are hurting. “I mean, seriously… tonsil tickler? What makes you think I still have my tonsils?”
He bursts out laughing. “True, I did assume. My bad. I can adjust. Gimme a second… okay, how about… my heat-seeking moisture missile?”
I bust out laughing again, shaking my head. “You’re a fucking idiot.”
“So… no hot dogs for dinner then?”
Rolling my eyes, I grin. “Bring me Chinese. And I want extra egg rolls!”
