The Last Good Liar (Carolina Kisses #3) - Sylvie Stewart Page 0,14
It’s not as if I regularly eat dirt on the sidewalk, but I’m always overly aware of my limbs and appendages, not quite sure what to do with them. As a teenager, I remember generally trying to shrink into myself and stay invisible.
Despite my previous hurry to get back to my image search, my eyes remain glued to Ponch Amante’s form as he throws a casual leg over his black and chrome motorcycle and the deafening rumble of its engine threatens to blow me back into the foyer. He guns the engine a few more times—just to annoy me, I’m certain—before rounding the drive and disappearing behind the tall shrubs standing guard around our property.
“Rita!” Even from behind the locked doors of my bedroom sanctuary, I can hear the echo of Winona’s voice as it bounces off the foyer walls and up both sides of the double staircase. But if she’s looking for the housekeeper, she’ll be disappointed. I sent Rita home about five minutes after my parents left for their suckfest with the Altmans. God, I wish those dickwads would get out of town.
I like Rita fine enough, but she’s known to be a bit of a gossip, so I keep her far away from my Frocks and Fantasy life. It’s a lot easier when my parents are out of town—Rita’s not one to complain when she gets paid full-time for only a few hours of work a day, but there’s only so much she can do with just me roaming around the house most days. She once told me she vacuumed the driveway to give herself something to do to eat up the hours—it was shortly after that that I told her to ditch once she was done with the type of housework sane people do. And, besides, I prefer the solitude.
“Rita!” Winona’s voice cracks mid-shout, and I stash my camera case under the bed before huffing to myself and stomping to the door to open it.
“She’s gone home!”
Winona’s heels clack on the Italian marble as she heads toward the stairs. “Why did she do that? I need her.”
My mother’s head appears just over the railing and she pauses to frown at my sloppy appearance.
“What could you possibly need at midnight? You know she doesn’t live here, right?”
Dismissing my last question, Winona replies with a furrowed brow. “I can’t find my peacock charmeuse gown, and your father’s tux needs to be fetched from the cleaner.” She throws a dismissive hand my way. “Never mind.”
But when I step back to retreat, her voice follows me. “You’ll need a gown as well. Do you still have that charming little blue satin Michael Kors number with the sequins across the bust? You look adorable in that. Haines will eat you up with a spoon.”
My initial pleasure at the thought of the dress—one of my favorites—curls up and dies at the mention of Haines, and I step up to the railing to get a better view of Winona and her scheming smile. She’s vacuum sealed into a patterned wrap dress with her cleavage on prime display and blond hair still conjuring images of the tiny purse dog.
“What do you mean? Where am I supposedly wearing this dress and why are we still talking about the Altmans’ son?”
“Honestly, Miranda,” she responds as if those two words are explanation enough. When I say nothing, she sighs and continues, “I’m sure your little boyfriend will understand. It’s just a weekend, after all. And your father and I have been invited for the soiree they’re throwing next Friday. Then we’ll slip away and leave you with the Altmans for the remainder of the weekend.” She walks her fingers through the air in front of her, satisfaction in her curved lips.
“But I can’t! I told you this already. You said you’d explain to the Altmans.” I’m unable to tamp down the desperation in my voice. This is just like Winona to do something so vile!
“And I seem to recall you telling me we’d meet this mysterious boyfriend of yours, yet here we are days later without so much as a peep from him. I’m beginning to think he doesn’t exist, Miranda.”
“It’s been one day! And he does exist!” I grip the railing, my nails threatening to gouge the finish. “In fact, he was just here tonight!” I blurt without thinking.
Winona tilts her head and blinks innocently. “How convenient he shows up while we’re out. Remind me again, what is his name?”