Page 29 of Insincerely Yours
“Okay, who the hell was that, and where can I get one? Or better yet, how come you never mentioned him before?” Maggie demands.
“His name’s Wes Holbrooke,” I clarify. “We shared Econ and Psych together second semester.”
“And he’s British?For real?”
“Yeah, he and his family moved to the states when he was twelve. His dad owns some kind of investment firm or something.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Maggie grabs my arm and swings me around to look directly at her. “Holbrooke?As in Wessington & Holbrooke,Holbrooke?”
I shrug. “Maybe. I didn’t ask. Why?”
“Why?My cousin’s been trying to get into that place for three years. It’s kind of a big deal. You know how much his family’s gotta be worth?”
“Don’t really care.”
“Well, he’s a total hottie, in a bookish sort of way. And did you see those workout pants he was wearing? That boy’s carrying a biiiig torch, in more ways than one,” she teases. “Isthatworth your attention?”
I can’t help but smile.
“Bow chicka wow-wow!”
“Shut up,” I laugh, giving her a shove.
Still, Maggie practically bounces in place, grinning like a fool and apparently no longer concerned that her boobs might knock her out. “And you thought this summer was gonna suck.”
For the next forty minutes, I’m actually convinced things might not be so bad…until I arrive home.
CHAPTER 7
YOU MAKE ME SICK
PRESENT
Allowingmyself a rare moment of optimism, I actually step into the house with a smile on my face. It lasts a whopping twenty seconds, just long enough for me to pry the shoes off my feet.
Then, the most hideous sound documented by mankind echoes across the walls, slicing me down to the bone. If you mixed Jim Carrey’s scream inDumb & Dumberwith nails scraping on a chalkboard and a cat hollering, it still couldn’t compare.
Sienna Hawthorne.
It can’t be.
No way in hell is that bitch in my house!
But just to plunge the knife in a little deeper, she laughs again, the sound coming from what I suspect is the kitchen.
It’s not that her voice is annoying, because it’s anythingbut. What makes it so torturous is the fact that it’s her greatest mask. Sienna can go from bored to bitchy in two seconds flat, but she’s also an expert bullshitter. When the girl wants to put on the charm, her laugh is as sweet as pie and her voice as inviting as honey.
And that charlatan appears to be working her magic with the other residents of this house, because more laughter follows, this time from my stepmother.
I’m prepared to bolt like Roadrunner up the stairs, but I only get as far as the fifth step when a low, amused drawl causes my entire body to lock up.
“Birdie,” Jase announces far too loudly. I’m not sure what kind of expression to find on his face when I turn around, but a shit-eating grin isn’t it. And yet, he’s looking like a cat that ate an entire pet shop’s worth of canaries.
The look—combined with the sudden silence from the kitchen—instantly raises my hackles and sounds off every mental alarm in my head.
The reaction is entirely warranted because heels come clacking down the hallway, right for us. The Devil herself comes sauntering into the foyer, clapping her hands together in delight. “Oh my gosh, is Ali really here? I haven’t seen her inforever!”
Sienna actually looks and sounds excited, which has me thinking two things: either A.) science has perfected the art of a personality transplant, or B.) she has already pulled all the wings off the butterflies in town and is now looking for her next victim.
