Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Fucking bitch. She chooses now to find her voice and fuck with me? She’s got an actual, honest-to-God death wish. That’s the only explanation. Otherwise, why would she go out of her way to get under my skin?
“Nothing that has anything to do with me.” It takes everything I have to be casual as I reach for a tortilla chip and scoop guacamole out of the bowl in the center of the table. “I don’t know who you were talking to.”
“I would be happy to know my Elli was talking to anyone.” Irene’s brittle smile seems to make her daughter shrink inside yet another heinous sweater. This one is striped—maroon, gold, eggplant. Ugly, in other words. Everyone in this restaurant is dressed in polo shirts, T-shirts, skirts, light dresses. When is she going to get a clue?
“Your mom did tell me you were out with a couple of girls from school yesterday. It’s so good to know you’re making friends.” Dad is really laying it on thick today, probably in a great mood because he has a weekend of fun ahead of him. Fun with his gold-digging bimbo wife whose brand-new Dior sunglasses sit perched on top of her freshly bleached hair. I had the misfortune of overhearing her talking about her plans for the morning before leaving for school today. Mani-pedi, bleach, a blowout, and waxing. I really did not need to know about the waxing part.
The less I know about this entire charade, the better.
Is she going to do it? Is she going to make the fatal mistake of telling them about the party? She should know better by now. I warned her.
But when I remember the wounded puppy noise she made yesterday when I broke that box on her dresser—the only remotely pretty thing in her entire room—I can’t help thinking she’s capable of anything. Whatever it takes to get back at me.
She wouldn’t go this far. Would she? I hate not knowing. It’s not like I was enjoying this meal before now, but even the chicken quesadilla that tasted so good a minute ago is bland and dry. I have to force myself to keep chewing it.
“I could go for another margarita.” Irene winks at Dad suggestively before raising her empty glass to catch a server’s attention. “As far as I’m concerned, I am on vacation.”
A vacation from what? It’s not like she fucking works unless planning a wedding intended to drain a hard-working man of his money could be considered work. The most cooking she does is to take something from the freezer and put it in the oven, and we still have the housekeeper who comes in a few times a week. She does literally nothing but lie out by the pool and bully her daughter. Oh, and make me hate her. But that’s not something she really has to try at.
“Take it easy, honey.” Dad’s laughter is full of indulgence. “Have too much to drink now, and you’ll be asleep before we cross the town limits.”
While the two of them have their little conversation, I look over at Elliana, trying to gauge what’s on her mind. She can try to get back at me all she wants, but not now. Not like this. There is too much riding on it, including my reputation around school and the absolute ass beating Dad would generously provide. He has never found out about one of my parties. How do I know? The man can’t act to save his life. No way he could pretend to be clueless. Even if he could, he couldn’t keep it up for long without laying down the law. That’s how he’s wired.
I look his way in time to see him nod in greeting toward somebody a few tables away. Everybody knows him. People respect him. Something tells me stories about drunken sex taking place all over his house and in his pool might tarnish his reputation a little. At least, that’s what he would worry about. How is he supposed to tell other people how to live their lives if he can’t keep things like that from happening in his home?
He’s already pissed off at me over everything else lately.
Don’t do it. If you want to live, don’t do it. She thinks she has it bad now? Up to this point, I haven’t openly encouraged the treatment she’s getting at school, but that could change. All she has to do is push me far enough.
When I nudge her foot under the table, she doesn’t respond. She doesn’t even move. She’s too busy picking at the burrito bowl she ordered. For one moment, I see myself taking her by the back of the head and shoving her face into the bowl. Maybe that would get her attention. But no, I keep my hands to myself, clenching them in my lap where no one else can see. This party had better go off tonight, or else I might explode if I don’t have the chance to decompress.