“Disgusting,” I said truthfully.
“Just a little blood and guts,” she explained.
“This all cost me around five thousand dollars,” I said, gesturing to my clothing.
At this, she burst out laughing.
“Greenhorn, I don’t even know where to begin.”
She turned off her music and started toward the door we’d entered before coming from the main house.
“What am I supposed to do?” I yelled out.
“I suggest you wash up and get some rest. Work starts at five.” She stopped and turned my direction. “I also suggest you wear something else, if you catch my drift.”
“These are the only kind of clothes I own.”
Where most girls were impressed by my clothing, by her expression alone, Cricket seemed to believe I was insane.
“Then I guess we’ll have to buy you some new ones. Ones that, I don’t know, don’t cost more than my annual salary?”
She closed the door behind her and I stood there feeling like a first-class asshole...as I should have felt, but all that really made me want to do was check the balance in my account. I was going to start counting down the days, no, the minutes, until Bridge turned eighteen. I wanted out of there. Five thousand a year for grueling, thankless work? No, thank you.
“Forget all about little old me?” Piper pouted.
“What?” I asked.
She ignored me. “You flirt with that girl but you don’t really want her. You want me.”
“Get the fuck out of here, Piper!” I demanded, descending the villa stairs.
She smiled at me, but it wasn’t a beautiful smile, it was chilling. “Lost all your winnings,” she giggled, digging in the blade.
My blood ran cold in my veins and I stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Yes, you bitch, thanks to you, it’s all gone.”
She laughed, throwing her head back. “How are you going to leave him now?”
“Joke’s on you. I already did.”
She shook her head. “My darling, you only think you did.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You have to share what you have with your sister. You don’t have enough now. You’ll go back to him because you know he’ll take you back even after what you did, and he’ll take you back because he can’t trust anyone else. You need him. You need what he has to get you what you need.”
“Shut up.”
“He’s your dealer!” she squealed.
“No, we’ll be okay,” I desperately denied. “I don’t need him anymore,” I cooed, an attempt to appease myself.
“Liar,” she sang, bobbing her head back and forth as if she was insane before tossing herself onto the sofa.
I walked past her and into the kitchen. She popped up off the couch, ran over to me and lifted herself up onto the counter beside where I stood.
I studied her. “Why are you even here?”
“I’m Piper,” she said, as if that explained everything.
“Get out of here,” I demanded, but she didn’t move.
I ignored her and opened my laptop on the coffee table, logging into my account. I could feel the pent-up pressure release from my chest as I read the balance. So close, I thought.
“Yet so far,” she needled, giggling a little at the end.
My alarm clock went off at four thirty in the morning and I woke startled, confused and more than a little creeped out by my dream. I looked around and had forgotten where I was. My surroundings were nearly pitch black.
“Stupid alarm,” Bridge whispered, her voice broken from sleep.
Dear God. Trailer. Bridge. Pregnant. Cattle. Ranch…Cricket.
It all came rushing to me in that instant, overwhelming me but the last image, the image of Cricket’s smiling face, made me chill. I smiled to myself. I want her.
Bridge turned on the light and the smile fell. I threw the covers over my face and groaned.
“Four thirty a.m. was invented by God to vex me.”
“And me,” Bridge chimed in.
“I guess it’s no more than we deserve,” I laughed.
“Speak for yourself,” she said before closing the bathroom door. I heard her vomiting on the other side.
I forced myself to get up and brushed my teeth at the kitchen sink, looking out into the drive. It was pitch black. The only light was from the window I sat at, and that only extended a few feet.
Bridge emerged and laid back down, moaning. I passed her, quickly smoothing her hair out of her face, then headed to the bathroom to shower. While I was in there the night before, I discovered I had only about three different positions I could make to wash myself. I had to angle my head to rinse my hair. It was a bitch.
I rummaged through my stuff the night before and found that I didn’t have anything to wear that wouldn’t be scrutinized by Cricket, so I picked my oldest pair of jeans, a thermal and a button-up. I donned the boots I’d worn the day before.