Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 54383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
“Are you sure?”
“Yes….”
“Say it then,” he warns. “Tell me your pussy is mine."
‘”It’s…” I pause as he unzips the back of my uniform, as he bites my neck a bit harder.
"Scarlett, tell me."
“My pussy is yours…”
The ride home is silent, save for the occasional peck on my cheek from Easton and the fleeting sound of his air conditioning sputtering every time we hit a stoplight.
When he pulls behind the garden hedge that blocks our house from the neighbors, he puts the car in park and looks at me.
“Thank you,” I say, unbuckling my seatbelt. “I’ll see you later, Easton Rush.”
He cups my chin and kisses my forehead. “I’ll see you later tonight.”
“Okay.”
I slip through the garden and stop when I see shadows dancing through the windows.
My mom and Tully are doing the polka dance atop the dining room table. Like a truly “responsible” parent, my mom chugs a beer and hands the can to Tully.
My mind races with thoughts of what this means, and I settle on the best possible option: The hospital has finally written to us and admitted that they made a mistake.
Me and Tully are NOT related!
“Come up here and join us, Scarlett!” My mom squeals when I make it through the door.
“No, that’s okay.” I hang my bag. “Someone needs to stay down here just in case one of you falls.”
“We’re not going to fall, girl!” She picks up a beer and tosses it to me. “We’re going higher!”
“And higher!” Tully is definitely drunk. “Drink up and celebrate!”
I crack the can and take a small sip. “What’s the occasion?”
“You are looking at the new ‘Freshman Girl’ face for Whimstery Cafe!” Tully squeals. “I mean, technically I won’t be announced until I’m actually a college freshman, but I’ve already been paid an advance!”
I take a longer sip.
“Everyone will need to be all-in for Tully for every upcoming Thursday in two weeks,” my mom says. “Outside of what you’ve already scheduled, don’t make plans for anything else, okay?”
“Why?”
“Because we told a few little white lies and we’ll need your help.”
I down the rest of the beer and consider opening another.
My mom jumps down onto the floor, and I grab onto her shoulders to steady her.
“What are the lies?” I ask.
“We told them that she has a personal hair stylist on deck.”
“Well, I’m sure you can hire one,” I say. “That actually seems like a pretty decent expense to have now since you’re starting to get more sponsors.”
“We’re going to look into that for sure.” She smiles. “But, we also told them that she has more availability than she really has. We didn’t take into account the other sponsors’ needs and after the London Fog thing, I realized that we can save time if we just use you as a stand-in.”
“What?”
“We scheduled her Q&As for Thursdays, as well as live meetings, and fittings. She can be multiple places at once, thanks to you.”
“What if I don’t want to do that?” I say. “You promised no more required things since we moved here, Mom.”
“Well, that was before the Whimstery deal,” she says. “And these are the things that pay the mortgage and bills on this lovely home we have.”
I swallow down the words on the tip of my tongue.
With all the money she made from exploiting us online in the past, this home should’ve been bought in cash. The bills shouldn’t cause too much stress at all at this point.
“We also are thinking bigger!” Tully is singing now. “Private flights instead of first class, bank accounts for our future kids, my grand wedding to Easton someday, and I’m sure you’ll want to open some grand goth store, right?”
I say nothing.
“I started drafting a tentative schedule so you can actually see what we’ll need,” my mom says. “This is going to be like the old days on my Youtube channel all over again!”
As if I don’t have any say in the matter, no life of my own, my mother jumps down and hands me a black and pink folder.
She tries to grab my hands and make me dance along with her and Tully, but the only thing moving are the tears in my eyes.
When Easton climbs through my window later that night, he asks me why I’m crying, but I don’t tell him.
I don’t want Tully to take over this part of my night, too.
12
EASTON
Days later
The University of Alabama’s campus stretches across hundreds of lush green acres. The football stadium is the centerpiece. I've been in contact with the head coach for years and today is just a meet and greet with the team counselors. A way for them to suck up to me again and get a subtle commitment that I haven't changed my mind about attending here.
As I walk toward the building, Tully jumps from behind a hedge with a bright red balloon bouquet.