Pine Tree Falls is a cute little community, close enough to Dallas that I can easily get into the city but far enough away that I still get that small-town feel I love so much. Bubba lives here too.
I’m the oldest in my family at age thirty-six, then my brother Bubba, who’s thirty-three. Xander and Jordie were later-in-life babies for my parents, and they’re twenty-two and twenty, respectively.
Finally reaching my house, I fix myself a glass of Dr Pepper and then make a beeline for my writing nook. “Okay, time to get some shit done,” I tell myself.
I flip open my pretty pink sparkly notebook to find the note I’d made before going to the store with Ms. Mijares. My eyes narrow at the words.
Globe, apple the cock.
My eyebrows creep together. What the hell does that mean? Cock makes sense,but apple the cock? And globe? That could refer to the globes of my female character’s butt. She does have a great ass. As I attempt to decipher my messy handwriting, my phone vibrates with an incoming text.
AK: How’s the writing going?
Juliette: So so bad! I can’t get inspired.
AK: You should write a female character whose superpower is breaking cocks. Call her The Mangler. Featuring cock number seven in your folder.
Juliette: I’ll keep that in mind.
AK: I can feel the sarcasm even through text. Why are you having trouble with inspiration?
Juliette: I guess it’s more that I can’t just sit down and write. I keep getting distracted by life.
AK: Ahh, you’re in need of a writing retreat.
Juliette: That’s what mysister said.
AK: Genius supporters - 2, Distracted author - 0. Just fucking do it.
Juliette: You’re right.
AK: That’s what I like to hear. Find a beach somewhere. Hot dudes running around half naked? That’s what you need for “inspiration.”
Juliette: Do the words “globe” and “apple the cock” mean anything to you?
There was a long pause before her next response.
AK: You’ve been scribbling in your notebook again, haven’t you?
Juliette: Yes, how do you know me so well?
AK: Because you always do this. And you have the handwriting of a drunken kindergartener.
Juliette: I would be offended if it wasn’t true.
AK: Stop texting and go book a trip.
“Bossy ass,” I mutter, switching out of the text app and opening the travel one I use. My finger taps on the “Late Bird” button. This particular app finds hotels and resorts that haven’t filled all their rooms for the upcoming time period and offers significant discounts. Kind of the opposite of “Early Bird.”
Using the filters, I search for beach locations and begin scrolling my options. A bunch of family resorts pop up, and I shake my head.Nope, that won’t do.
I adore kids, which is the problem. If there are children there, I’ll spend my time making sandcastles on the beach and playing Marco Polo in the pool with them. Further refining my search to “adults only,” I survey the results.
I veto the first four for various reasons.Too expensive. Rumors of bed bugs. Low customer ratings. Caters to the elderly.
And then… my eyes land on result number five.
Hmmm, Pineapple Island Resort and Spa.
