Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
I didn’t think any of them got the same treatment as I did, however.
I wasn’t sure why I was the special one…
Well, I kind of knew why.
The rest of the Singh kids? They were all gorgeously beautiful. Every last one of them, even Keene, our big brother.
Then there was me.
The one Singh kid that could very well pass for the picture under the definition ‘bottom of the barrel.’
That was one of my dad’s favorite terms to use.
He liked to tell me that if anyone ever found me attractive, they were scraping the bottom of the barrel and had no other options.
Needless to say, I had a few self-esteem issues.
I also had a chip on my shoulder a mile wide.
“Why do you care?” I asked, shouldering past him.
He caught my hand as I was leaving and pulled me back. “Why do you hate us?”
I didn’t ‘hate’ them.
In fact, I envied them. I wanted to be them. I wanted to know what it felt like to not be berated and degraded all day every day.
I wanted their lives.
Well, maybe I did hate them a little.
I tilted my head and stared at him.
He liked to call it my thousand-yard stare, because when I did it, it felt like he was having his soul examined.
I didn’t know why he felt that way, because really all I was doing was trying to compose myself enough to answer. But that didn’t change the fact that they were winning at life compared to me.
“I don’t hate y’all,” I finally said. “And I said ‘why do you care’ because honestly the only time you ever address me is to tell me to do something for you, or instruct me on what Dad wanted me to do. So yeah, I asked why do you care. Because if you did, you’d know why I ‘hate you.’”
He didn’t know what to say to that so I said, “Why did you come in here?”
He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it.
Because I was right.
He’d come in here because he knew he could get me to do something for him.
I was everyone’s bitch girl.
I got everyone’s cast off work.
Oh, the cats need a bath. Go do that, Hades.
Oh, Simi’s sick and can’t do her aerial yoga act, why don’t you get on that, Hades?
Oh, Hades. The cook is sick. Why don’t you cook food for thirty-five people?
Here was the thing.
I had to know everyone’s routine in case someone needed me somewhere. That was hours and hours of work a week trying to make sure that I didn’t look like a complete fool in the middle of thousands of people.
That, and if I didn’t know the routine, my dad would literally kick my ass after the show.
Because ‘nobody embarrasses Ansel Singh.’ Not even his daughter.
“What was it you wanted?” I asked forcefully.
He scratched the back of his head. “Dad told me to tell you earlier that you needed to be ready for the show at four-thirty.”
I looked at my watch. It was four-fifteen.
“When did he tell you this?” I asked.
“About three hours ago.” He winced. “But I got busy with my own chores, and I forgot.”
He forgot, and Dad came in here and slapped me across the face because I was supposed to be getting ready and wasn’t. Getting ready for a show that I didn’t know I was covering.
A couple of months ago, my sister had been performing a tight rope routine and she’d fallen and caught her throat with the wire on her way down.
We’d almost lost her, and she was still recovering from the ordeal.
Dad had hired someone else, but that someone else liked to get drunk on random Tuesdays and sometimes call in from her trailer in the back and say she wasn’t coming in.
Which was where I entered into play.
I knew the routine. I’d actually been the one performing the tight rope walking first.
But Dad thought that I wasn’t ‘beautiful enough’ for the routine, and it was too boring if the person wasn’t ungodly attractive.
Hence Caristonia entering the picture and taking over for me.
But, once again, I was back and getting punished for something I didn’t know about.
I cupped my cheek and said, “Thanks, bro. Appreciate that.”
He frowned, his eyes taking in my hand over my face.
But before he could ask again what happened to my face, I left. Not looking back.
• • •
7 years ago
I stared in shock at my boyfriend.
Well, ex-boyfriend now.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m in love with your sister.” He repeated his earlier words.
Yeah, that’s what I thought I’d heard him say.
There was nothing quite like falling in love with a man and finding out he was in love with your sister.
How was your Tuesday going?
“It’s nothing against you as a person,” Benji continued. “It’s just that…well…she’s just so beautiful.”
I felt my heart sink.
If I never heard that Tony was more beautiful than me ever again, it would be too soon.