Page 23 of Filthy Beautiful
Some of them went out of their way to make it clear to me that I wasn’t “special” just because my brother was a rock star. While the others went out of their way to make it clear to me that my brother was totally fuckable.
Fortunately for me, Shayla was in a similar personal hell. Her half-brother, Johnny, was also a rock star, and we’d bonded in commiseration.
Then, when I was sixteen, I’d met another little-sister-of-a-rock-star, Angeline, at a particularly shitty party. Angie had introduced me and Shayla to Larissa, whose big brother was a record producer. And the four of us—Shayla, Larissa, Angie and I—had formed a secret club in jest.
The Lil Brat Society.
We even had a (secret) name, thanks to Larissa’s brother, Trey, inadvertently naming us.
It was no longer a joke, though. We’d all become super tight friends, and something of a support group for one another. And Angie, long ago, had become my very best friend.
“Where’s Angeline?” Larissa asked, as she settled onto a lounge chair to the right of mine in her pale-pink one-piece. Larissa was pretty much the physical opposite of Shayla; curvy figure, dark skin, and dark, curly hair. And a pretty face.
Honestly, Shayla made up for what she lacked in prettiness with confidence.
“She can’t come.” I sat down, shrugging off my T-shirt. “Her dad’s doing his bring-your-lazy-daughter-to-work thing again this week.”
“Ugh,” Shayla said. “Real estate?” She was rubbing sunscreen on her body, slowly, still looking around—for my brother, probably. “Part of his latest campaign to help her ‘find her passion’? When’s he gonna realize she’s never getting a job? Especially in real estate.”
“Yeah. Probably not.” My best friend Angie was twenty-four years old and had never worked a day in her life. Her parents were pretty wealthy, and like Shayla, she didn’t really have to.
“And where’s your new pool boy?” Shay settled onto the lounge chair on my left, stretching out gratuitously, probably in case Cary looked out a window or something. Fortunately, none of his windows looked out onto this end of the backyard.
“I don’t know. I guess he’ll be by sometime…”
“It’s so adorable he’s cleaning your pool this summer.”
“I actually love that his dad made him get a real job,” Larissa said.
“Aaand one that involves him taking off his shirt in your backyard,” Shayla added, pulling a bottle of wine out of her purse.
“Yeah,” I said. “Lucky me.”
My new “pool boy” was my brother’s next door neighbor, Stephan. His dad had indeed made him get a real job this summer, before he went off to college. He was now my brother’s pool boy, and by default, mine, too.
“Luckyhim,” Larissa said. “He’s so in love with you.”
“He isn’t.”
“He sois,” Shayla said, pouring wine into three glass tumblers for us. “Remember that time he broke his nose when the poolhouse door hit him in the face, because he was staring at you in your bikini? So. Epic.”
“Uh-huh…” Who could forget?
“Ugh,” Larissa groaned in sympathy. “Poor guy.”
I glanced at the poolhouse. The shades were closed but the windows were open. I hadn’t told my friends yet that Xander was back.
And I really had no idea if he could hear any of this.
“I wonder if he’s embarrassed having to clean the pool now that you’ve moved in…” Shayla went on, handing us each a glass of thick purple wine.
“Why should he be embarrassed? It’s a job.” I sniffed my glass. “What are we drinking?”
“It’s blueberry port. My dad brought like a case of it back from some winery. It’samaze.”
“Cheers.” I sipped, and it was amazing.
“Hmm…” Shayla sipped. “You can use this to your advantage, you know…”
