Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
“I’m graying because of her. Graying!” her mother added.
Pricks.
“Hello, fuck-face,” Vicious greeted me.
“Howdy, asswipe,” I retorted, pulling out a blunt from behind my ear and lighting it casually, looking at Vicious like he just pissed into one of four different bowls of soup on a table and I wasn’t sure which. I was always suspicious of him. He of me, too.
“Care to share?” He jerked his chin toward my blunt. I inhaled and passed it on, smoke skulking from between my lips.
“So why are you really here? Your parents aren’t remodeling shit. I saw Eli downtown this morning when I took Em for her doctor’s appointment.”
I put my MacBook down on the coffee table and leaned back, tapping my lip with my Zippo lighter as I considered his question before I broke the news to him.
“I’m going after Baby LeBlanc.”
“I sure as fuck hope you mean Rosie and not my future kid.”
“Christ.” I rolled my eyes, leaning forward to snatch the blunt from him. “And then people accuse me of being the creepy one.”
Vicious grinned. He wasn’t pissed off. He wasn’t even surprised. Astonishingly, he wasn’t against it either.
“Finally, eh? What took you so long?”
I shrugged. “Didn’t know she was in New York. And by the time I did, and she moved into the apartment, she had a boyfriend. She is single now. Not for long.”
Vicious raised one skeptic eyebrow, his lips curving to one side. Of course, he didn’t give half a fuck if I went after Rosie. It made perfect sense to him, and why wouldn’t it? His wife-to-be, on the other hand, held a different opinion.
Millie and I were civil, but she didn’t trust me. Which was ironic, considering our history.
“Emilia is not going to like it.”
“I didn’t like it either when Emilia started fucking one of my closest friends in my apartment. I got over it. Quickly, I may add.”
“Watch your fucking mouth,” Vicious snapped, his eyes flaring, before smirking. “You took ten percent of the company from me.”
“And gave it back to you.” I smiled.
“For a lot of money.”
“Which you have,” I retorted. “You’re a billionaire. We both know you paid because I needed to make you pay. You can wipe your ass with double the price you paid me and still not notice it missing from your bank account. It was a lesson. Have you learned anything?”
“Yes.” Vicious gave me the stink eye. “That you’re no less an asshole than I am, even though you definitely hide it better. Millie thinks you’re trouble.”
Now it was my turn to give him my I-don’t-give-a-fuck smirk. I wasn’t even trying to defend myself. What was the point?
“And I tend to agree.” He snatched the blunt.
“I’m hurt.” I clutched the left side of my orange Armani tee and made a face. “But I’ll live.”
“Whether you live or not solely depends on how the shit with Rosie is going to pan out. If you break her heart, use her, and shit all over this, I’d have to take a side.” I knew which one he was going to take. Vicious and I were genuinely good friends. We spoke on the phone all the time. We had a good laugh. But we were wary of one another, too. It was just one of those things. There was never competition between Jaime and Trent, or Trent and me, or Vicious and Jaime. But there was always a silent, bloody war between Vicious and me.
And I knew that the bad feelings I harbored for him blossomed, only because I saw myself in him and hated it.
The cruelty.
The frustration.
The raw brutality that lay underneath the white-tooth smile and four-figure suits.
“Threatening me? That’s fucking cute.” I grabbed the blunt, took one last hit before putting it out inside an ashtray in the middle of the coffee table. Smoke shotgunned from my flared nostrils as I spoke. “I’m not some innocent little Southern girl, Vic. I’m not afraid of you.”
Vicious stood up. “Don’t fuck it up.”
The underlining message was: but I got your back.
I messed my hair with my fist. “You didn’t fuck it up with Millie.” Thanks, bro.
“I almost did.” Don’t make my mistakes.
“I know better than you.” I wouldn’t dare.
“That’s what I’m counting on.” Then what are you waiting for? Go get her.
Dean
Whatchadoin’?
Rosie
Sorting through demos. Listening to music. Trying not to throw myself off of the balcony. You?
Dean
In-N-Out for lunch? We can go to the beach before the rehearsal. Chill.
Rosie
You asked before. The answer is still no.
Dean
Why not?
Rosie
Because of what happened last night.
Dean
What happened last night?
Rosie
Am I really that forgettable?
Dean
You said you wanted me to forget. But that was a lie, wasn’t it?
Truth was, Baby LeBlanc didn’t know what she wanted. She felt guilty, but at the same time, craved me like crack. It had always been this way, but this time around, I was going to push her around as much as I needed until she fell off her self-righteous throne.