Page 35 of Call Me Mrs. Taylor

But when she notices me staring, her face immediately softens, and she flashes me a sweet smile, and I tell myself I must have imagined her looking like she wanted to light a match and burn this whole fucking cookout down.

12

Raya

I woke up this morning with five more enemies than I had yesterday.

It’s barely after sunrise when my rage yanks me out of a dreamless sleep like a hand fisting my hair and pulling me upright. But my mind’s not racing. My heart’s not hammering. I’m pretty calm, actually. Crystal clear. There’s just one thought in my head, heavy and thick, consuming me like a black hole.

The Taylors can die. All of them.

I lay flat on my back, staring at my ceiling fan, watching it spin, slow and methodical. Five blades. Round and round.

My molars press together, causing a dull ache to radiate through my teeth. I force my coiled fingers to relax against the sheets, but they curl back into a fist the second I stop paying attention. My entire body is wired like my anger is sitting under my skin, crawling, slithering, whispering.

Control it. Shape it. Mold it into something useful.

Deep breaths.

Okay. Ace can live.

He pissed me off, but he’s still my man. Boyfriends piss you off sometimes, that’s a given. He’s mine, and that matters more than temporary emotions. This is fleeting.

It’s his fuckingfamilywho can die.

Ace is like…a dolphin in a pod of orcas. I know that’s not scientifically possible, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m not rational right now. Fuck rational.

And, okay, Carlton is exempt, too. That corny bastard is just along for the ride. Bless his clueless, preppy heart. He’s Nemo swimming around in that bitch. Vanessa…to be fair, she didn’t really do anything either. Plus, she’s a dentist, and we need black medical professionals.

I’ll put her on probation.

Now, Kamryn? That raggedy, rabid, lowdown, toxic cunt?

I already knew what she was, and yesterday confirmed it. The best part? She didn’t remember me. It didn’t even register. Not that I was expecting her to—I was nobody back then, just another person for her to be a mean girl to—but that only proves what a rancid bitch she is to people on GP. And Ace had the nerve to say they’re basically twins? Fuck, no. He’s nothing like that diseased twat.

But the true villains are his fucking parents.

My body burns hot at the memory, a fever spreading under my skin. My fingers dig into the sheets again, twisting the fabric.

I practically feel my ire shift. The spotlight of my anger swivels, shining directly on their smug faces.

How fuckingdarethey sit there emotionless while their son announced the biggest accomplishment of his career?

Ace’s face made my heart sink. He tried to hide the disappointment, but it was too late. I saw it. Then I saw red. They had one job,one fucking job, and they failed.

What kind of parents…what kind ofmotheracts like that? My breath hitches, a sharp, painful thing in my chest.

I wanted to punch that bitch in her uterus. I want her bougie ass to feel what she made him feel. Entitled, wine-guzzling cunt. I wanted to tell her, bitch, you ain’t Whitley Gilbert. Sit your just-barely-made-it-out-of-middle-class-ass all the way down, hoe.

And the daddy…he’s handsome as hell, but also a sad fucking waste of a Y chromosome. He’s gonna feel it, too. It’s only a matter of time.

I see why Kamryn’s boyfriend stays away. Rico. That’s the only man in this family I actually respect. I wanna meet him. Shake his hand. Buy him a shot of Henny. Congratulate him on seeing through the Taylor facade to spot the rottenness at the core.

I pick up my phone and scroll. I have to go way back on the daddy’s Facebook page—of course their old asses still use Facebook—to find their wedding picture. 1990. A throwback anniversary post. It’s black and white, grainy, and overexposed.

I stare at it.

They’re a beautiful couple on the outside, but I’m not fooled by that. Iinventedthat. There’s ugliness in both of them.

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