No Limits (Stacked Deck #5) - Emilia Finn Page 0,1
certain members of society might be. Sports stars, music stars, the influential. And thanks to my connections – as in, my best friends – I always have exclusive gowns to wear, fancy shoes to strut in, and the best makeup job on this side of the train tracks.
I certainly look the part of socialite that attended private girls’ schools and now thinks they can hang with the elite, but that chick, the elegant Madilyn who wears floor-length gowns, designer heels, and sophisticated hairstyles, looks nothing like the slob that I am when we hang out in Jenna’s basement.
“Did you guys hear about the Kincaid wedding coming up?” Chrissy lifts the almost empty bottle away from her wine glass with a hiccup, then a giggle when it overflows and she’s forced to duck down and slurp the liquid off the mahogany tabletop. She stands again, grins like a kid that just snorted sugar, then turns to meander back toward the bed with her glass in hand.
I lay in the middle of the luxurious, softer-than-a-cloud king-sized mattress in a pair of Jenna’s shorts – gray, with little gold stars and a gold rope around the waist to cinch them tight – but I scoot across when Chrissy flops down and slams her head to my stomach to use me as a pillow. I grunt when she beats me to get comfortable, and squeal when her wine sloshes over the side of her glass to hit my leg.
Then I laugh when, instead of wiping it up, she licks my leg and saves every single drop.
“Stop!” I laugh when her snickers turn to snorts, then I grab her hair and pull her back around. “Stop licking me, freak!”
“Sorry. Didn’t wanna waste.” She hiccups, and finally settles when she’s comfortable. Only to undo it all again when she pushes up to drink from the wide glass. “You guys catch the paper today? Kincaids are marrying up.”
“Gross.” Hannah sits by a little makeup table and tries her best to apply fake lashes. “I’m so sick of hearing about them.”
“I already knew,” Jenna mumbles at the foot of the bed. She’s painting her nails, but her aim is… off. She sits back with a frown, lets out a man-sized belch, then goes back to work with the sparkling pink polish. “I’m doing her dress.” She scowls. “I hate that I love the design she asked for.”
“Ugh.” Chrissy throws her head back with a groan. “I hate that she’s so fucking perfect.”
“Who’s perfect?”
“Nobody!” Jenna snaps. “Nobody is perfect. That’s the damn point.”
“But she acts like she’s perfect,” Hannah growls. “So pretty, so sporty, so smart and business-minded. She’s basically all of the Spice Girls in one person.”
Mid-sip, I blow my wine straight back into the glass and howl when it burns my nostrils. “Spice Girls!” Then I look to Jenna. “Change the music!”
“No,” she huffs. “I’m not changing the music. And don’t make me hate her more than I already do. To dress a Kincaid wedding is big business for little old me. Don’t ruin this for me.”
“She was so fucking obnoxious in middle school. Right?” Hannah looks to me, like I have all the answers. “You remember?”
I shake my head.
“You do! It’s like she was addicted to attention. I swear, if she didn’t have it, then the whole world was gonna have to answer why.”
“It’s…” I try to think of the perfect descriptive word for the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, champion fighting, tournament hosting, enviably badass businesswoman that – according to Chrissy and today’s newspaper – is soon to be wed. But I’m drunk, and that was already a lot of work, so I settle on a snicker and take another sip of wine. “I dunno, Hannah. Obnoxious ain’t illegal.”
“It should be!” she scowls. “Now she’s bagged Ben Conner, and they’re so effing happy that it makes me sick, and because it’s the newest in event, Momma won’t shut up about it.”
I burst out in piggish snorts and spill several vitally important sips of wine. “Good lord, Hannah. There’s no way in hell your mom is getting an invite.”
Alcohol… that’s the only excuse I have for my big mouth as her fiery eyes come to mine.
“I mean… They’re Kincaids, and we’re… uh…” I stumble.
Damn you, drunk brain! Work faster!
“Did you see how that other one got famous for dancing?” she sneers. “Everything comes so friggin’ easy for them.”
“Ugh,” Jenna groans – and ends it with a belch. “I hate them so much.”