Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“Fucking badass,” he states, his eyes glued to his work on my arm.
“Yes.” She smiles and nods. “It is badass, it’s also permanent.” Her eyes widen as she looks at me.
“Let me see in the mirror.” Moving around her to stare into the full-length mirror, I’m still in my bikini top. I did throw on some black dance pants, at least, before Dalton got here.
“Oh my God! It’s perfect, Dalton.” I smile at my reflection and my new tattoo. It’s a band of bullets, exactly like the one on Ammo’s bicep.
“Well, if that doesn’t say I love you and forgive me, I don’t know what else you can do.” Mel stands behind me, cocking her head at me through the mirror.
“Meh, even if it doesn’t work, you look hot.” She gives me a sassy wink.
“This isn’t about me trying to get him back. You know the reason I’ve never gotten a tattoo is because it had to be something I really care about, something I’ll never regret since it is on my body forever.” My eyes go to hers as she nods.
“Right.” She smiles. “You just keep telling yourself that. Here, have more liquid courage.” She shoves her margarita at me.
“Court?” Ace’s stern voice makes me scream as I spill the drink turning to him.
“Jesus, Ace, you scared me.” I laugh and hold out my arm. “What do you think? Remind yo—”
“Rachel is at the gate,” his voice is flat.
“Of course. I’m surprised it took this long.” Melanie rolls her eyes as my face starts to flush. I was really hoping I would not have to have this confrontation. Sighing, I look up at the ceiling, then over at him and shake my head.
“It’s fine, let her in. I owe her at least this much, right?” Downing the rest of the margarita, I walk over to sit on the red velvet couch in the middle of the room.
If this was anyone else’s house, I would despise it, but because I know and love Mel, it’s growing on me.
The dark burgundy walls, and life-size painting of Melanie playing the guitar covers half the wall with a pink neon frame. Her furniture’s all black lacquer, except for the fluffy white rug I’ve literally tripped on twice already.
Yep, only Melanie can rock a house like this.
“Princess? You need a touch up?” Dalton looks at Mel as Ace interrupts him, holding out his hand for silence.
“You don’t have to see her at all, the police are on the way.” Ace’s voice is strained, and I wonder what he’s not telling me.
“Wait. Don’t call the cops.” I jump up and grab the back of the couch. My head is spinning, my arm stings, and we already have tons of paparazzi outside. The last thing we need are the cops. “Look, I might as well just deal with her now. She’s just gonna keep coming back.” I stare at him.
“Which is why I called the cops.” He stares right back, and the annoying, nonstop buzzing of my cell phone makes me look away.
“Just let her in,” I snap, picking it up, “How can she do anything? I have you to protect me, for fuck’s sake.” Looking down at it finally since I ignored it while I got my tattoo, it’s literally blowing up with messages and missed calls from Rachel, Gina, Malcolm, and my best friend, Spam.
“Jesus.” I toss it and straighten my shoulders back.
“Fine.” He shrugs, and I look back at Melanie, who arches a brow, surprised as I am. I really thought Ace was going to fight me on this.
“Uh, do I need to go?” Dalton looks at both of us, unsure.
“No, It’s fine, it’s just Courtney’s life. Come on, let’s make some more margaritas.” Mel gives me the thumbs up as she grabs Dalton’s arm and pulls him toward her kitchen.
And perfect.
“Move out of my way.” Rachel storms past Ace as he stands behind her, arms crossed, watching her.
“What is this?” She holds her phone up to me as I blink at her appearance. She’s wearing black slacks and a wrinkled shirt, but it’s her makeup that’s startling.
“Oh my God” I stare at her face. Her lips are just big blobs of collagen, and without her signature red lipstick, they look freakishly pale. Her eyes are smeared with mascara, and only one eye seems to have fake eyelashes on. But it’s her erratic energy that makes me know I did the right thing.
“I’m assuming that’s the letter from my lawyer saying I no longer require your services?” I state.
“You stupid girl. Stupid, stupid girl. You’re nothing without me. I made you. And you fire me?” she screeches. “I’m suing. And your fucking Ammo, the rapist…he’s going to jail, you ungrateful little bitch,” she spits out, literally. I have to take a step back not to get anymore on my face.