“You don’t know anything about me,” she says quietly.
“I know more about you than I care to.” The list of Rose’s egregious offenses is endless, and even if only half of it is true, it still makes her an awful person. I add, “There’s a diner near thehospital hiring. It’s one of those all-night topless ones, though. Perfect if your only marketable skill is a nice rack.”
“Funny. I did always picture you as the type who pays for company.”
“At least I can afford to. Pearl told me you blew your entire inheritanceandyour dad’s money on some get rich quick scheme. How’s that going?”
It’s strange how tension leaks from a person, but I can almost physically feel her deflating, shoulders slumping while her lips turn down. I’ve hit a nerve, which isn’t surprising.
Good.
According to Pearl, Rose got fired from her last job for incompetence, and shortly before that, took a hefty check from her father, and every last penny of her inheritance from her mother and dumped it all into some half-baked, tone-deaf business venture that Pearl described asnew age nonsense. Rose excels at failing. She also apparently got caught cheating on her boyfriend and now lives with her ex—Pearl’s ex, as well, actually—and is living off her dad’s dime.
It’s the hypocrisy that irritates me the most. Hauntingly gorgeous, she drifts through life on her family’s money, directionless while preaching on her soapbox about whatever polarizing trend suits her best that day. When I’m in her vicinity, it tends to be about people with money.
The first time I saw Rosaria, I was in my last year of medical school. I’d had a rare day off, and while I had a mountain of work waiting on me, Pearl had guilted our friend group into attending a dinner party at her father’s place—said she was feeling lonely and missed us. It was early evening, and the weather was still summer-warm, and though their home was by no means modest, it felt quaint compared to the literal estate I grew up on. Pearl’s father was wealthy, but lower in the echelon of Hampton residents. He’d made his money switching to concierge medicineearly, smart enough to capitalize on the trend, providing him and his daughters with a comfortable life.
I remember sitting there at Pearl’s over-the-top luncheon, complete with hand-calligraphed placards and the type of decor that would make Martha Stewart jealous. Then the back door to the patio pushed open with a soft, rolling sound that drew everyone’s attention. And there she stood, backlit like some kind of apparition, what I can only describe as the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She paused in the doorway, seemingly unaware of the effect she had, the summer breeze lifting strands of her hair as she stepped outside with casual indifference.
I knew Pearl had a difficult relationship with her sister. Where Pearl is soft and delicate, almost fragile, Rose was intense. Her beauty was loud. Rich, wavy dark hair that cascaded past her shoulders down her back. Dark, expressive eyebrows. Thick curves beneath jeans that looked painted on. Tits that strained in her small, simple white t-shirt, the opposite of Pearl in her willowy yellow sundress, pale skin and perfectly straight blonde hair. In truth, they were opposites in every way.
My dick got hard just looking at Rose, and I was suddenly grateful for Pearl’s ridiculous table setting so I could hide and adjust myself beneath the tablecloth.
And then Pearl whimpered, pulling my gaze away. She was dabbing at her eyes with a linen napkin.
“What happened?” Harlow sighed, not bothering to hide her frustration. Pearl always cried easily. I had to admit Harlow’s exasperation was warranted. I scanned the perfectly arranged table. Everything seemed as it should have been: good food, close friends gathered despite our increasingly separate lives. I didn’t know what had made her cry.
Pearl’s shoulders were tense, her lower lip trembling. “I just… I can’t believe she brought him.”
And then I glanced back up. I was so distracted by Rose that I hadn’t noticed the hulking man behind her. They disappeared into the pool house at the far end of the backyard, both of them barely sparing our group a glance.
“She isn’t even supposed to be here right now. That’s the whole reason I chose tonight. I can’t believe this. I haven’t seen him since he—since they—” Pearl choked up, shoulders quivering as tears tracked down her cheeks.
“Wait, is that who I think it is?” Harlow whispered.
Griffin looked up from his plate, cheeks stuffed with scallion pancake. “Who’re we talking about?”
“Unbelievable,” Harlow muttered, her arm tightening protectively around Pearl’s shoulders. “You want me to get rid of them?”
Harlow, like me, was old money, but despite the designer clothes and trust fund, she was a good person and a fierce friend to Pearl, even if she sometimes got on her nerves.
Pearl shook her head, wiped her eyes, then straightened her shoulders. “No. I am not going to let them ruin this for me. For us,” she emphasized, eyes finding mine.
Dash leaned forward. “What’s the deal with the guy?”
Harlow explained, “That’s Pearl’s ex-boyfriend, Easton. The football player. I heard he got drafted… Remember what he did? Whattheydid?”
We all met Pearl in our senior year of prep school. Harlow took her under her wing, and just like that, she became one of us. In those early days, Pearl would wrap her fingers around my arm as we walked the hallways between classes—sad, broken, clinging. I worried she had a crush on me in the beginning, but then I realized that was just how Pearl was—sensitive and needy. But she reminded me of my mother in some ways, so I was okay with it.
And I really felt for her after she told us why she transferred schools. Her boyfriend of three years—her first love, Easton—had cheated with her younger half-sister, and the two flaunted their relationship all over school, bullying Pearl to the point of causing extreme emotional distress, forcing her to transfer schools just to escape them.
According to Pearl, they convinced all her friends to freeze her out, one by one, until she was eating lunch alone. They spread rumors about what Pearl was like in bed—specific, cruel shit, the kind that made the other teenage boys in school follow her down hallways. Pearl was devastated. She and Easton had made plans—college, marriage after graduation. And he just dropped her like she was nothing.
I never understood how Roger, her father, who I’d now gotten to know over the years, could allow that to happen under his roof.
Yet there they were, Rose, her sister, her own flesh-and-blood, parading around with the man who broke Pearl’s heart when she was young, strolling past Pearl without guilt.
The casual cruelty of it, the total disregard, especially considering how sensitive Pearl is—it told me everything I needed to know about Rose’s character.
