Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 124750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 624(@200wpm)___ 499(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 624(@200wpm)___ 499(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
“Yo! Wait up, you little fucktard.”
“Piss off,” I turned my head, hissing.
She caught up to me thanks to her ridiculously long legs. “So the kitten has claws.” She grinned. “We might get along after all.”
We walked side-by-side, and patiently, she let me walk off the anger. She chuckled and I side-eyed her. “What?”
Stopping, she laughed harder, clutching her stomach and wiping away tears of mirth. When she got herself under control, she snickered, “You should’ve seen the face on that stuck-up bitch after you walked out.” She straightened herself, placing a hand to her chest, and imitated the store clerk, “‘Well, I never!’”
I couldn’t help it. I snorted. I laughed softly, then harder, until I was hooting in hilarity. “At least I gave her something to talk about with her stuck-up friends.”
We came across a bench and I sat, Nas taking the place beside me. “So,” she began, “what are we going to do about the clothes situation?” I opened my mouth, but she held her palm up to stop me. “Before you come out swinging, we’re going to have to compromise.”
I bit the inside of my lip, chewing on it while I thought up a suitable solution. With a sigh, I swung my arm out in the direction of the boutique. “I don’t need stuff like that. I wouldn’t spend that much on principle alone. You know how long I could’ve lived on the streets with $800.00?”
Her face softened, as did her tone. “How long have you lived on the streets?”
“Since I was seventeen.” I quickly calculated. “I’m twenty-four now, so around seven years.”
She nodded slowly. “You never applied for help or housing?”
I shook my head.
“Why?” she enquired.
I glanced at her. “Honest answer?”
“Nothing but.”
“Takes about eighteen months to two years to get placement. It got real bad for me.” A small shrug then I took it deep. “I guess I never expected to live that long.”
Nas turned away from me then, keeping her eyes on the ground, contemplating something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. We remained in a comfortable silence, enjoying it immensely, when she spoke. “Okay, so where are we going next? We need to get you something to wear tonight.”
I huffed out a long breath then smiled. “Any thrift shops around here?”
Her brow rose. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in one of those, let alone wearing clothes that someone else owned.” She quickly added, “No offense.”
“None taken.” My smile turned into a grin. “Give me an hour. I’ll bet I can even find something for you.”
She scoffed. “Not bloody likely.”
My smile was cat-like. “Want to make a bet?”
Our trip to the thrift shop lasted almost two hours, and by the end of it, Nas was a convert. As promised, I found something even she couldn’t deny was amazing. She snatched up the Italian leather cropped jacket, and when I took it to the counter, I managed to talk the price down to thirty dollars. Nas watched with wide eyes, clearly impressed. She later told me that retail on a jacket like that would’ve cost a minimum of $400.00.
I had to admit I did well under the circumstances. Some of the clothing I chose were slightly big on me, but I planned to put on a few pounds and fill out the weight I had lost over the past year. I settled on a few retro t-shirts, a pair of blue jeans, a pair of black jeans, a pinstriped black pencil skirt, a white blouse that smelled a little like a grandma’s closet but looked classy and feminine, a black shirt, an off-white sweater (also too big), and a pair of bright yellow pajamas, which still had tags on them.
After we left with bags in hand and Nastasia in a considerably better mood, I asked her to take me to a local superstore where I could get underwear, socks, a few cheap pairs of heels, flip-flops and sneakers, and a toothbrush. Nas helped me pick bras in my size, and after looking at the sorry state of my body, she vowed to put some meat on my bones, assigning Ada to keep me fed. As we were leaving, we passed the cosmetics counter, and Nas told me to choose the basics, asking me if I knew how to do my own makeup.
I smiled to myself. “There was a mall a few blocks away from my alley. Every now and again I’d go down there. There was a sweet lady working cosmetics, and she must’ve known I didn’t have the money to spend, because she would sit me down and teach me how to apply my own makeup, telling me I could come in anytime to use the testers. So eventually, I learned.”
Choosing the appropriate shade of foundation proved difficult, as I was so pale, but Nas helped, picking out a light blush, black eyeliner and mascara, a palette of eye shadows, and assorted colors of lip gloss.