Page 78 of Wicked Angel
“What’s a whammy bar?”
“Who cares.”
“What year wasAppetite for Destructionreleased?”
“What is that, a bad horror movie?”
“It’s the top selling debut album of all time, and you should read more.”
“You should get bent. Hi!” She fake-smiled again as my sister came down the stairs.
“Hey!” Shayla greeted us. “You guys look great.”
“So do you,” I said, my eyes on my new, non-shattered phone. I was reading the text that had just come in from Maxine.
Can’t make it. Have fun.
It seemed like a brush off.
“So whatif I don’t know everything about the music industry since the beginning of time,” Angeline was huffing next to me. “That doesn’t mean I can’t kick ass as your publicist.”
“Shit,” I muttered. I sent a quick text to a couple of girls I thought might be game to come to the party tonight, last minute. Ever since that fucking love triangle thing broke in the media, people had been bailing on me left and right. Women included.
“What’s wrong?” Shayla asked.
When I looked up, I tried not to react when I actually saw what my sister was wearing. Which was a few strips of black vinyl with matching boots and not much else. “My date cancelled.”
“So? She’s a ho.”
“Uh-huh. The S&M dungeon called. They want their wardrobe back.”
Shayla tossed me a dirty look from where she was bent over her hall table, applying a thick veneer of lipgloss in the mirror. “She’s a cuntwaffle. Just forget her.”
“You think every woman I date is a ‘cuntwaffle.’” My phone buzzed and I glanced at it.
“Maybe you should stop dating cuntwaffles.”
“Guys,” Angeline said half-heartedly, like she knew how ineffectual her attempts to get my sister to shut up would be.
I slipped my phone into my pocket. “And what exactly makes a woman a cuntwaffle, in your estimation?”
“Let’s see,” Shayla said. “She called me Sheila. She expected me to wait on her like I was your freakin’ serving staff. And she told me, unsolicited, that I’d really benefit from a nose job.”
Oh. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that?”
“As if it would make a diff? You wanted to fuck her. I know how it goes.” My sister turned to me. “I can handle that shit. But the last one you brought home, you know,Brianna”—she said the name with exaggerated distaste—“was a total bitch to my girl.” She looped her arm through Angeline’s and Angeline suddenly found the ceiling light fixture incredibly interesting. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. But obviously, she’d filled Shayla in on her little run-in with Brianna in my kitchen. “And seriously,” Shayla went on, “who fucks a member of their boyfriend’s band behind his back? Cunt. Waffle.”
“Let’s just head out, shall we?” Angeline drew the front door open.
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you have a thing for JC?”
“Had.If you don’t know that you can do better than Brianna MacMillan and all that love triangle drama, dear brother, I’m here to tell you. You can do better.”
“The limo’s waiting,” Angeline tried again, gesturing out at the driveway.
“You guys have fun.” I headed for the door.
“Aren’t you coming with us?” Shayla sighed impatiently and I paused. “I’m sorry I called your date a cuntwaffle, okay?”
