Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“Is this really a house?” She whispers in an awed tone.
“Yeah.” The only house bigger in this town is Carter Franklin’s and the ironic thing is he doesn’t even live in the gigantic mansion. The kid lives above a six-car garage. The rich are nuts.
“How many people live here? She must have a lot of siblings.”
“She’s an only child.”
Belle’s head comes around to pin me with a suspicious stare. “How do you know that?”
“Because I do.” There’s no point in lying. Belle knows I’m handy with a computer. I’ve had to fix a few absences for my mom. Some days it’s hard for her to face the day. Migraines keep her pinned to her bed and employers aren’t very understanding. She’s a hard worker, but there are no passes for someone who suffers chronic pain. If the employer can’t see it, the illness doesn’t exist, so to keep her employed, I fix things. The way these factories place a number value on people and then deduct points until you fall below a certain level is some bullshit anyway.
“What else do you know?”
I reach over and tug one of my sister’s dark brown locks. “Nothing that’s important.”
School records only show absences and grades. They don’t tell me what color she likes or if she prefers chocolate chip cookies with or without raisins. They don’t tell me if she likes lace undies or plain cotton. They don’t tell me what she tastes like, what she feels like, what makes her cry or what makes her laugh. Nothing that’s important.
“Do you think you’ll ever own a house like this someday?”
The tone of my sister’s voice is so wistful, so filled with longing that it twists me up inside. I want her to have everything, though, no matter what it takes. “Yeah, why not? You’re smart enough to be this rich someday.”
I get out of the car before she can ask any more uncomfortable questions. Melody’s at the door waving us in.
“I asked Sarah to make us a snack,” she says. Over Melody’s shoulder I spy a gray-haired woman wearing an apron. Sarah must be their chef. My hand lands on Belle’s and I squeeze it in warning.
“Nah, the cookies were enough.”
“Yeah, I’m full from the cupcake,” Belle adds, although Melody doesn’t look entirely convinced.
“I’ll just have Sarah make up an assortment of things and if you’re hungry, you can eat it. Come on.” She slips her hand into Belle’s. “Let’s go up to my bathroom. I have all the supplies there.”
Melody leads the way up a carpeted staircase off the kitchen. At a landing the hall breaks into two directions. “This is Sarah’s place,” Melody says, pointing to the left. “Mine is down here.”
Melody’s right not to call her space a bedroom. It’s more of a suite with a giant bed with a gauzy canopy covering it. Small LED lights are woven between the curtains and make it look like there are stars shielding the bed from the rest of the room. I avert my eyes because staring at Melody’s bed too long is going to give me ideas that I shouldn’t be having—particularly when my baby sister is ten feet away from me. Across the room, there are steps to a lower level which is outfitted with a sectional, some giant puffy things and then a very large television. On either side are a set of glass doors which appear to look out over a balcony.
Ahead are another set of double doors. Melody swings them open to display a large marble bathroom. There’s a standalone tub with feet set in an alcove. A crystal chandelier hangs over it. The shower has enough nozzles to rival a car wash. Belle runs from section to section, exclaiming how beautiful and cool everything is.
“Thanks, although I can’t take the credit,” Melody says from inside a closet. “My mom decorated it. It’s a hobby of hers.” She comes out with her hands full. I hurry over and pluck the things out of her hands before something falls and marks up the pristine floor.
“Thanks.” She grins and blows a bit of her hair out of her eyes.
I bite my inner cheek so I don’t toss everything down, grab her by the throat and kiss her until she’s coming on my thigh.
“Um, you can put the stuff here.” She points to a table with a three-way mirror attached. In front of the table sits a very dainty chair in pink with a white fur seat. I eye it with some skepticism. “Are you dying my sister’s hair on that?”
“Yup,” she answers cheerfully. “Come over here, Belle. I want you to put this on.” She flips a black dress toward my sister. It looks almost new.
“Sure. Where should I change?”
Melody points to the door she just came out of. “Use my dressing room.”