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I’m about to ruin my entire con with my smart mouth when Orion saves my ass.
“Enough.” Rebel Ken—because I do not know which H is which—growls at Orion. Like, legit sounds like a lion and my traitorous body has a bit of a slutty reaction. And to be clear, Iuse that word in a positive light because sisters need orgasms too, and as many as they can get.
Knocking on the partition behind him, Orion speaks as the blacked out window drops just an inch. “Stop wherever you can.”
I’m still kneeling on the floor of the limo—and let me tell you, it is not comfortable—when the car swerves just a little then stops all together. Less than a minute later, Billionaire Ken hands me my clutch just as the driver opens the door. “Thanks for the show.”
I’m so fucking shocked that it takes me a second to understand that they’re dismissing me. Literally dropping me off on the sidewalk. Well, at least they didn’t open the door on the street side. Small mercies, I guess.
“Your mothers must be so proud.” I can’t help myself, I have to leave with a parting shot because these assholes are the definition of rich, entitled, motherfuckers.
I don’t know which one laughs outright because the door is swiftly slammed after me as soon as my feet hit the sidewalk.
“Sorry, Miss.” The driver is the only decent one of the bunch. Until, that is, he hands me a few bills. “For the ride home.”
Like I can’t pay for my own rideshare? Assholes. All of them.
By the time I make it home, the blueish hue is reflecting off the millions of window panes across lower Manhattan all the way up to Midtown. A quick dart of my gaze to my home screen tells me it’s past four in the morning and I know for a fact that Mickey is going to be worried sick about me.
As soon as I walk through the door of our apartment, he rushes toward me, relief written all over his face.
“Baby, fuck. I thought something happened to you.” Then he kisses me and I wonder if he can taste Orion on my breath. Nah, I crunched up a couple of mints on the way here.
“I’m sorry, Mickey. He didn’t bite.”
“Did you fuck him?” He takes a step back, looking me up and down as though searching for evidence that Orion’s dick was inside me.
“No.” My shoulders slouch against the wood of the door, my deep-rooted sense of failure beating me down.
“Did you at least blow him?” Now he’s looking at my mouth, his thumb rubbing his own bottom lip.
“Yeah, but I guess it wasn’t enough.” I shrug, hoping we can put this mark behind us and move on to someone else because, as much as they excited me, there’s something darker beneath their surface.
“It’s okay, baby. Time for plan B.”
Fuck. I was afraid of that.
Chapter Two
Bowie
Eighteen Years Ago - Age Nine
It’s so hot today I almost can’t take it. I feel like I’m literally melting from the inside out, but that’s why I’m on the porch steps, in the shade. It’s cooler here. I wanted a popsicle but Linda said I have to wait until my new foster brother arrives.
I don’t mind waiting. I just hope he’s a lot nicer than Seth. The only person Seth is nice to is his little sister, Emma. He’s not even nice to Linda and Ray. I overheard them talking one night about sending him away, but Linda insisted they needed to keep him for the extra money.
“Move, Dummy.”
“Ow!” I rub my lower back, the spot Seth just kicked, before he sits down on the opposite side of the porch steps. He sneers over at me, a look on his face that dares me to say something else.
I’m not afraid of him. I know he’s a bully, but even though I was only four when Mom died, I do remember her telling me about bullies. She said that they’re just angry, jealous people and the best way to beat a bully is to ignore them because they love it when they know they can get to you. Her actual words were, “Killthem with kindness, Bowie, that really fucks with them.” Mom cursed a lot. I think fuck was one of her favorite words because she used it all the time.
When I was sent to my grandparents, though, I was reminded time and time again that “fuck” is not a word to be used by children. I think that’s why they didn’t want me anymore. That, and maybe the fire I set in the kitchen after trying to bake Gran some muffins. Okay, maybe I put the dish towel in the oven on purpose to see what would happen, but I didn’t expect to be sent away because of it.
That was five years ago, and this is my third foster home.
I may be only nine years old, but I feel like a teenager already. I swear I’m more mature than Seth, who turned thirteen a month ago. He only has five years before he ages out of the system, and I have to wait for the same amount of time as I’ve been alive. Seems unfair. But I’m not naïve. I know life is unfair, so I just have to make it swing in my direction.