Page 51 of Call Me Mrs. Taylor

15

Raya

I send Ace to voicemail for what’s gotta be the tenth time today.

I’m not mad at him anymore. I don’t think. I’m just…distracted.

The Corolla is being testy again. It’s probably the late summer heat. I have the air conditioner on full blast, but the air coming out feels dense and sticky, more like somebody exhaling into my face than actual cool air.

It’s always something.

At least Daddy’s checks hit the account today. If I need to fix something, I can do it. I just don’t want to. I take it personally when shit goes wrong. I know adversity is supposed to make us stronger, but I’m an Olympic gold medalist at this hard life shit by now.

Give me easy.

Give me luxury.

I want the soft life these bitches yap about all day.

To them, it’s about bottomless brunches and private jets, but to me, it’s about having the power to bend life to your will and force it to work for you so you can do what makes you happy.

Ace will give that to me.

Once I get rid of those fucking orcas.

Speaking of…

Kamryn’s meeting somebody this evening. I know that because she’s been here at Francisco’s for fifteen minutes and still hasn’t ordered a damn thing besides water.

I adjust my binoculars, keeping my grip firm so my hands don’t shake. Her table is right next to the big bay window, thank God, otherwise I’d have had to go in there undercover.

She’s dressed like an ‘Old Money Aesthetic’ Pinterest board. Everything’s in various shades of beige. As if that makes you look rich. The Taylor house looks like that inside, too. That’s probably where she got it from. Bitch looks like a roll of toilet paper.

That’s fitting.

The only thing about her that’s worth a damn is her bag.

I shake my head. Luxury handbags aren’t in my budget right now. I can probably convince Ace to buy me one, but only after he gets closer to me. Men are so funny about money. They’ll drop hundreds at the club with their boys, thousands on gadgets, but then get weird when a woman wants a little appreciation.

I shift in my seat, adjusting my binoculars just as Kamryn stands up.

Wait.

She hugs somebody.

I squint harder, my pulse kicking up as I strain to figure out who the other person is. It’s not until they part that I see her straight on.

Arnelle.

The fucking ex-girlfriend.

I can’t even believe this shit. Commenting on posts is one thing, but meeting up?

My grip on the binoculars tightens until my fingers ache.

They’re talking.Laughing.

My molars grind together so hard my jaw clicks. I bet they’re talking about me.

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