Page 44 of Anger Bang
Today.
“Fuck!”
What time was it?
She grabbed her phone and let out a frustrated “fuckity fuck fuck” when she saw the series of texts from her sister that got longer and more hysterical as they went.
J:Where are you?
J:WHERE
J:THE
J:FUCK
J:ARE
J:YOU
J:?
J:?
J:?
J:You’re not in your RV. Are you OK?
J:Thea!
J:Theadora Eloise Pope you better answer me even if you’re dead.
J:I know you’re not with that dipshit Kade because he’s with Dex. Where are you?
J:The producers have my agent on the phone, and they do not give a shit that I am worried about you. I have to go do this bridesmaid luncheon. You better be there when I get there, or you better hope I don’t find you.
J:THEA!!!!!!!!!
And this was how things went from bad to worse. Jackie’s level of pissed-off panic could always be measured by the number of all caps, exclamation-heavy texts she sent.
Thea flopped back onto the bed and covered her face with Kade’s pillow before letting out a loud groan. She needed to get moving. Now. The only problem with that? When she’d inhaled, she’d gotten a good whiff of Kade, and now she wanted to lay in bed, tangled in his sheets and surrounded by his scent.
Andthatrealization was what finally got her ass out of bed, because if there was one thing more painful than dealing with Jackie’s ire, it was falling for a guy she was just supposed to be anger banging like the petty paleontologist she was—or had become, or always had been and never realized, or—
“Ugh, getup, Thea!”
A quick dash to her RV and the world’s fastest shower later—yes, she took the time to shave her legs; she had priorities…sexy-times-later priorities—and she was fast walking across the resort, wrestling with getting her hair in a ponytail despite the never-ending wind. She stopped just around the corner from where the sunrise yoga had happened the other day so she could suck in a couple of deep breaths and prep herself for whatever hell was incoming.
“You got this, Thea,” she told herself, not believing it even the littlest bit.
Then, she forced her feet forward into the very bowels of doll French braiding hell. Jackie, their mom, and the bridesmaids each had a large dimple-faced doll and were in the process of braiding their yarn hair.
“Oh my God, Thea! Jackie was losing her shit,” one of the bridesmaids, Lakin, said, her voice loud enough to be heard in the next state, let alone get picked up by her mic. Then her eyes narrowed as her lips curled into a cruel smirk. “Were you off fucking the best man again?”
Thea jerked to a stop, nervous sweat beading at the nape of her neck as one of the camera operators pivoted to focus on her. This was when her sister would improv some sassy comeback that would leave the other woman grasping for any kind of retort. But Thea was not her sister. Stomach twisting, she clasped her hands together and said—absolutely nothing.
Not a word.
Not a peep.
