Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
My mouth is dry, and I’m frozen in place. I shouldn’t be nervous.
The last time I saw her, she looked different. She had her long black hair in a French braid and she wore a feminine floral dress. I remember thinking that nothing about her appearance suited her, how fake and manufactured it was. Seems like things have changed because every article adorning her body today screams made for Piper Hughes.
Tight black denims with rips on the thighs and a mesh top covering a black bra. Her hair is much shorter, still long enough to tug but too short to be in a braid or ponytail. Her bare arms are now home to a plethora of wild, intricate tattoos covering every inch of exposed skin. When did she get them? What do they symbolize? Or did she get them simply to experience a tattoo gun?
“You look different,” I whisper, my voice so low that I’m unsure it reached her.
I hold my breath through the beats of silence, unsure if I want to run into her arms, hit her, or quit my job so I won’t have the daily torture of seeing her.
“Yes,” she says, closing the distance between us until the only thing I can focus on is her hot breath on my skin. Her fingers flirt with the lapel of my suit jacket, taunting me with her touch. “You look different too. But I became who I am while you’ve hidden your true nature from yourself.”
Piper’s words shouldn’t bother me, but they do. Their sharp sting punctures deep into my soul. I hate that after all these years, her cutting tongue can still lash me like the blade of a knife. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Piper’s lips turn up, making her dimples pop. God, I always loved those dimples.
She brings her hand to my face and traces her fingers from my eyebrow to the corner of my lips. “That’s a good question, Kaye. I’m Piper Pain, the lead singer of Lifeless Lies, the girl who clawed her way out of her repressive backwater town and built herself brick by brick. What happened to you, Kaye?” Piper waves her hands in front of me. “A fucking pantsuit? You’re always gonna be that girl so desperate to fit in that you’ll extinguish your own fire, won’t you?”
CHAPTER 6
Piper
It’s nice to know I still have some sort of power over Kaye. Her pretty, full lips are a stern, flat line, and her stunning eyes blaze fire and bullets at my skull. I got under her skin.
Kaye squares her shoulders, her arms pinned to her sides. She’s trying to control her fiery temper. I loved when Kaye Cavendish let loose and allowed her baser needs to take hold. Based on her prim and proper politician pantsuit, I’d say it doesn’t happen very often anymore.
“You have no clue who I am, Piper Hughes. No idea what it was like to be raised the way I was and still make something of myself. It’s so fuckin’ easy for you to walk around pretending you're a badass with your ripped-off Pat Benatar wardrobe.” Kaye shoves at my shoulders before laughing. “You’re only able to wear whatever you want, act however you see fit, and have no one blink an eye because no one ever saw you as street trash.” Kaye takes another step forward, forcing me to move back. She’s trying to establish dominance, and I indulge her. “It’s a fuckin’ uniform you wear to give the middle finger to the establishment, but you are the establishment, Piper.”
Kaye glares at me, blasting me with her pain and anguish. Unshed tears brim her pretty brown eyes. It’s good to see her defiant fire still burns. She probably wants to run, but her stubborn streak wouldn’t dare give me the satisfaction of knowing I’ve affected her. One of the many things I’ve always admired about Kaye was her ability to stick it out, even when the deck was stacked against her.
“You see, Piper, you have a safety net that allows you to do as you please. I don’t have that luxury. There’s nowhere I can go if my life blows up. So yes, I wear a suit and present myself the way I’m expected to in order to survive.”
I open my mouth to speak, but Kaye raises her hand, stopping me in my tracks.
“I had a label on me the moment I came out of my mother’s womb. The bastard daughter of a whore and a rapist. The pariah no one wanted their children around. Girls like me don’t get to wear see-through shirts and fuck out in the open because that’s what everyone expects of me. Party girl, no good, no ambition. I’m the girl people expect to shoot heroin and allow any man to stick his dick in her. Girls like me have to show the world that we are worth something, while girls like you don’t. No one will look down on you for wearing revealing clothes or sleeping around. They’ll call you a free spirit, breaking the chains of patriarchy. If I do the same thing, it’ll be because I’m the product of my environment. Another statistic.”