Page 71 of The Princess and the Paparazzi
“Aw, c’mon, Kenna. Aren’t you even gonna offer me some of your famous coffee? I was hoping we could catch up,” Cody says, lowering his hoodie to reveal more of his thin, greasy hair.
“How about you two kids catch up while we look at the house,” Ashley says. She turns to Cody, “It’s not officially on the market yet, but I’m sure I’ll get the listing.” She turns back to me, tipping her head back and looking down her pointy nose haughtily. “Nicky and Stavros said you were cool with me bringing my client by?”
“This? This is your client whom you’re bringing to my house?” I gesture at the man-child in the doorway. He’s got tufty patches of fuzz in a few areas on his face. He doesn’t even know how to shave properly.
“Yeah, Kenna. Wouldn’t it be sick if I bought your house?” Cody’s hollow laugh gives me sociopath vibes. Like he’s either super dumb or dead inside. Possibly both. “Pretty funny considering all the times I climbed in through the window.”
“Nope,” I say, shutting it down. “Not happening.”
“Well, uh, I hate to say it,” Ashley says, tapping her pink-and-white tips impatiently on the counter, “but I did get permission from the owners to show the property and I have the key, so …” She does a little Baby Oopsie shrug #sorrynotsorry move that might have been cute on a tweenager, but makes me want to throat-punch her. I have a real WWGD moment, thinking about Georgia flipping Ashley onto her face in the back alley.
“Did they know you were showing the house tohim?” I jerk a backward thumb at the dipshit. He’s not good enough to lift an index finger for.
“Look, Kenna, I know this is a little awkward … the optics are a little weird with me buying your house, but just to be clear, I don’t want to get back together.”
“Can we get going?” Ashley twangs through her nose. “I’ve got a really big appointment to get my extensions redone at four.”
* * *
Kenna’s uncles’ house is a two-story, farmhouse-style home with white, clapboard siding, black shutters, and a steeply pitched roof. Nothing fancy, just a solid, semi-suburban home. There’s a detached garage with a workshop over it, where I’ve been staying the last few days. But I haven’t been inside the main house, and I’m not entirely prepared for the time warp within.
“Your old bedroom.” Cody stands in the doorway to a bedroom with flowery wallpaper. He slaps the doorframe like he’s patting a friend on the back. “Memories.” Then he pulls out his electronic tape measure, steps into the room, and shoves a dresser aside. “Let me just get some measurements real quick here. I’m going to make this room a showcase for my sneaker collection.”
“Can you hurry up?” I ask, tapping my foot. It cannot be healthy for me to roll my eyes this hard, this many times in rapid succession.
“Yeah, I guess I just need to measure all the walls and floor space in the living room. Say cheese, babe!” Cody snaps a quick photo with me in it, and I flinch, covering my face reflexively.
“Could you not?” I say.
“Oh, c’mon, Kenna. Your acne is looking a lot better. It hardly shows.” He takes off down the stairs, smiling to himself.
“Just like your dick,” I mumble.
I can’t believe that I just felt my face before remembering that I do not, in fact, have acne. That’s how he did it. What a gaslighting piece of shit.
“What’d you say, Kenna?” Cody whirls around at the foot of the stairs.
“Nothing.” I clamp down on my urge to mess with him. The sooner he’s out of here, the better. “Just finish up and get going?”
“Cool, cool.”
I perch on the couch while Cody paces the living room and take a moment to review my messages. First up: Tabitha.
The genetics lab called and said that they sent the test results to your inboxes. Just letting you know. I sent in my final timesheet. Good luck finding another PA as awesome as me.
You’re staying in Ohio?
I’m in Kansas.
Frowny Face. Oops, my bad.
So you’re not coming back? Why not?
Talk to Rafe and your evil twin. Blocking you now. Byeee.
I stare at the phone, stunned. What the hell is going on over there at the compound?
“Fuuuck,” Cody curses. He’s measured the same wall three times now, and he doesn’t seem pleased. “This wall is like three inches too short for my equipment.”
