Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Yeah. I’m a little tired, but it could’ve been a lot worse.”
“Good.” She hesitates. “Quinn, we’re friends, right?”
“What? Of course,” I say, more out of reflex than anything. Are we? Priest seemed to think so, and I want to be, but letting people in is tricky.
“I want you to know you can talk to me. If everything goes well, we might be stuck with each other for a couple more seasons and I don’t want to be the kind of friends that only talk when we work together.” Her grin is infectious.
“I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you for the photos!” I give Erika a tentative hug, hoping she understands that I want that, too.
I jog over to Mom. Her hand wraps around my wrist and only practice keeps me from wincing.
5
Chapter 5 - Quinn
The walk to the car is tense, but it isn’t until the doors are closed that she rips into me.
“You ungrateful little idiot,” she snaps. At the press of a button, the fancy sports car she’s borrowing from a “friend” roars to life.
I’m pretty sure she’s seeing someone, but it can’t be that serious if I haven’t met him. Knowing her it’s because he’s married or just stringing her along. “I thanked you and Roger first. What’s wrong with mentioning Axel? He was my brother, and it was true.”
“Half-brother. He was a fucked up, two-bit criminal, just like your father. If I’d known what kind of trouble that man was, I’d—”
My snort cuts her off.
“Do you have something to say?” The car stops at a red light and she turns, fixing me with a furious glare.
I turn away, staring out the window. “Nope.”
Nobody forced her to have an affair with a married man, and getting pregnant with me wasn’t an accident. Mom’s just always been bitter that we weren’t enough for him to leave his wife. He didn’t come live with us until his now-ex found out and kicked him to the curb. Not that Axel’s mom was a prize. She cut her losses and took off when he was still in middle school. Maybe that makes her the smartest one out of all of us. At any rate, it only took a few more turbulent years before Dad did the same, leaving Axel in the tender care of a woman who hated his guts. My mother.
Her nails tap the steering wheel as she thinks. “Maybe it’s fine. A dead brother makes you sympathetic, and a little tragedy always makes for a more interesting backstory, but it’s critical that you keep yourself marketable right now. This is the sort of opportunity that could make your career if we keep you in the public eye.”
“Right, marketable.” My phone buzzes, notifications coming in of people messaging and tagging me in things after the stream. Absent-mindedly, I fire off an, “I’m so glad you’re enjoying the show!” followed by a mess of hearts and smiling devil emojis.
“Are you even listening to me?”
“I’m listening, but you know I’m supposed to interact with fans for at least an hour after the official account posts anything. That’s why you were so mad last night, remember?”
This is one of the parts I like. Mostly. Priest wasn’t totally wrong this morning. There’s a lot of weird stuff that comes in alongside the cute messages. Admitting I’m single seems to have been a big mistake. It’s mostly harmless, but after last night everything feels a little more sinister.
Dickpic. Delete.
Foot request. Delete.
Foot photo. Delete.
Long scrolling DM about how I’m playing into Satan’s clutches by pretending to be one of his minions, along with three different suggestions for churches closest to my actual address. Forward.
“Stop frowning, you’ll give yourself wrinkles. What is it? Anything related to the party?” Mom asks, still sounding annoyed.
“Just the usual. I’m going to Hell for real. They want to marry me. Blah, blah, blah.”
“It means we’re doing something right,” she says with a smug grin. “People are fucked up and everyone is going to want a piece of you now that you’re a celebrity, but it’ll be worth it when we’re out of this god-forsaken town and living the life we were meant to have.”
My fingertips fidget back and forth over the edge of my phone case. I don’t want to be famous. I never have. I just want to act and do well enough to afford a normal life. To buy a car that isn’t from the side of the road with a “For Sale” sign in the window. A little house maybe. Take a vacation somewhere and order overpriced room service without checking my bank account.
I wish she’d stop acting like I’m going to be an A-list celebrity just because the show went a little viral. We’re streaming on the same service that has a dating show for dogs, and we haven’t even gotten paid yet. By the end of the summer people will probably have moved on to the next big thing.