Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
But not tonight. I smirk at my reflection and bite my lower lip. I reach for my vanilla-coconut perfume, spray some on my wrist and breasts, and reach for the scrap of a dress. A shiver of excitement goes up my spine as I get goose bumps. Jason is actually taking me out. Well, Edge is taking me, but Jason will show up eventually. It’s Dolly’s twenty-eighth birthday and she’s having a party at a club in West Hollywood. It’s not a club that one of the Disciples owns. When I asked Edge why, he said she’d rather die than give the Disciples any more money. The longer I stay here, the more I’m learning that Jason and the main guys seem to have their hands in all kinds of things. I’m not stupid enough to think all of them are nightclubs. I know Jason has a couple strip clubs and I’m sure he launders money through them. Snapping the halter around my neck, I turn and look at the back of the dress through the mirror. It dips low, like almost seeing my ass low.
“Jesus, Dolly.” I snicker as I sit down and pull on the high-heeled ankle boots.
Standing, I straighten my shoulders and take a good look at myself. I have never looked better. Amazing what some makeup, a haircut, and new clothes will do.
Tonight I want to make Jason notice me. I want him, and I won’t settle for anyone else. I look over at the picture of Crystal that still hangs in our room and wonder what he’ll do if I take it down. What did he ever see in her? She’s been creeping around lately. Her dirty looks and snide comments that my days are numbered make me even more determined.
Walking toward the poster, I reach up and lift it off the wall, looking around for a place to put it. I set it down and go to find Dewey. Instead I see Edge as I peek out the door. Great.
Sighing, I smile at him and his eyes travel up and down me. “You are not actually thinking about wearing that are you?” Sometimes Edge reminds me a lot of Jason, and not in a good way.
“Yes, I am.” I stare at him and wave him in. “Can you help me, please?”
He walks in and looks around. “Eve.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Did Dolly send you this dress?”
“Yep.” I point to the poster of Crystal on the floor. His eyes look at it then me.
“I need this”—I tap my high-heeled boot at it—“out of here. I’m here more than Jason and I’m sick of looking at her ugly face and flabby tits.” Her tits aren’t actually flabby because they’re fake, but I’m beginning to detest her and say it anyway.
Edge ignores it and goes right back to my outfit. “Look… Eve, Dolly is… Dolly she looks good wearing things like this.” His eyes laser onto my legs.
I flutter my long, mascaraed lashes at him. “So what? You’re saying I don’t?”
“Jason will not want you like this.” He looks beyond annoyed.
I clear my throat. “I disagree.” Fluffing my hair, I look him straight in the eyes. “Jason is gone all the time. Plus, I can’t tell you how many times he’s told me that I’m nothing to him.”
“Christ.” Edge looks up at the ceiling.
“Yes… Christ. That’s what I say every time he reminds me that you and basically all the Disciples can never be monogamous.” I wave my hands around. “So, I doubt he’s going to care what one of his many women wears.”
“Eve, don’t do this tonight.” He shakes his head. “Seriously, we’ve had a shitty week. Please, wear something else.”
“Um, no.” I walk over to my phone, which is charging, toss it into my black bag, and twirl to face him. “Wait.”
His eyes narrow on me as I snap my finger.
“I know, maybe I’ll meet a really rich guy and Jason can sell me to him.” I smile and do jazz hands at him.
He blows out some air. “If that’s the way you want to play it, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He picks up the poster with one hand and walks out leaving me feeling like maybe I was a bit dramatic.
And did I just act like I actually care about Jason? “Great.” I put my hands on my hips, mortified at the hot sting of tears in my eyes.
Shaking my head, I sniff and grab a tissue. “What is wrong with you? Stay on course,” I chant to myself as I march into the bathroom to put the final touches on my hair and makeup. I hate that I’ve become… I don’t know, emotional lately. I mean my whole life I made fun of the girls who cried over their boyfriends. Sighing, I close my eyes then open them. God, why won’t Jason be like all the other guys: stupid and easy to push around?