Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
“We’re not going to the party,” I told her. Kit shook her head slowly.
“No, you’re definitely going,” she said. “Someone has to put him in his place.”
Jessica and I looked at each other, eyes wide. She shook her head at me, mouthing, Don’t do it!
“I’ve really got a lot of studying to do . . .”
“You’re coming to the party,” Kit repeated, her eyes going hard. “Don’t worry—we won’t leave you hanging. But this shit needs to end. I’m not letting another girl get hung up on that cockwad for years just because he’s got his thumb up his ass. Dealing with Em’s situation was bad enough. The girl was useless. Totally useless.”
“I’m standing right here,” Em pointed out.
“I’m aware,” Kit replied, her tone suddenly sweet. “You know how much I love you, sis. Now hand me my sausage.”
• • •
Two hours later I still wasn’t sure how I’d wound up staring at myself in the mirror, trying to figure out what to wear. I didn’t want to go to the party, yet here I was, primping and preening, feeling almost sick to my stomach every time I imagined meeting Levi “Painter” Brooks on his home turf.
Jessica wandered into my bedroom, frowning.
“I still can’t believe you’re going,” she said. “They’ll eat you alive out at the Armory. You have no idea what those parties are like.”
“Kit and Em promised they’d keep an eye on me,” I reminded her. “And this is a family party—not some crazed fuckfest like you went to.”
“Don’t let them fool you,” Jess said darkly. “Bad shit happens at the Reapers clubhouse. Doesn’t matter if they saved my ass or not, the Reapers are dangerous and I’d be a lot happier if you’d just stay home and work on homework with me.”
I turned to look at her, marveling yet again at how much my best friend had changed over the past year. Back in high school she’d been obsessed with her looks, with partying, and with boys. Now it was a Friday night and she was leaning against my doorframe wearing ragged, cutoff sweats and a stained tank top, hair up in a messy bun. Not one of those cute, sexy messy buns, either. This one looked like a hairy mutant growth on her head.
Turning back, I studied my reflection in the mirror.
“Well I’m going anyway,” I told her, reaching over to grab my jelly glass of sangria. “So do your duty as a friend and help me get ready. Does this make me look fat?”
Jessica licked the Fudgsicle she held thoughtfully.
“No, but it makes you look about forty. And not a hot forty—sort of like a homeless woman going on a job interview, I think.”
I stared at her. “I can’t decide how to take that.”
“Take it as a sign that you should wear something else,” she said, shaking her head. “Now, don’t interpret this as my blessing to go to that party tonight, because I’m still one hundred percent against it. But seriously, Mel. You’re beautiful. All that dark chocolate hair and permanent tan of yours? Fuck, if I had that to work with I’d be . . . Well, I wouldn’t be sitting here watching you get ready to go out when I’m going to be stuck at home studying all night. I see no reason to disguise all that pretty as a bag lady.”
“First up, those are some big words from a woman whose hair is so messy it’s got white-girl dreads,” I replied, frowning. “And second, you’re the one who’s refusing to go out, remember? I want you to come with me.”
“Whatever. Change your clothes.”
Rolling my eyes, I studied my reflection. She was right. Totally right. These were job interview clothes, not party clothes. “I’ve got no idea what to wear—can I borrow something?”
Jessica pondered, walking slowly around me, eyes sharp and critical.
“I can help,” she said. “But I require complete obedience, grasshopper.”
“Never min—”
“Silence!” she snapped, holding up a hand, palm facing me. “Don’t distract me. I’ve got an image . . . We need something very special. Something to make him regret blowing you off—just don’t be a fucking idiot and go crawling back to him.”
“I was never with him in the first place.”
“All the more reason to do this right,” she said. “If you’re going out there, you’re going to look hot. Really hot. He’ll blow his wad when he sees you, I swear. Then you can make him grovel and come back home.”
Ewww.
“I don’t want him blowing his wad.”
She cocked her head at me, smirking.
“Now who’s living in denial?”
I sighed, because the bitch was right.
• • •
Jessica worked fast, and fifteen minutes later I found myself looking in the mirror again, but this time I’d definitely left job interview territory behind. I looked good, I had to admit. Jess had me in a black push-up bra and a loose, off-the-shoulder black summer top with silver bangles around my wrists and big hoop earrings. She’d paired it with a short plaid skirt, sort of a cross between a kilt and one of those little skirts girls wear at Catholic schools. She’d finished it off with combat boots.