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“After the song, we group hugged and it lasted not even a few seconds! Where the fuck were the paps when Bowie AND Markos were taking turns with Bambi? That’s the real threesome! The fuck? They didn’t even get the two guys right.”
Karessa shakes her head. “That bitch likes to fuck with you because she knows the press laws keeps Dad from intervening.”
“Don’t let her lies bother you,” I offer.
“Imala, the worst she’s ever said about you is that you were late for your wedding.”
I raise my brows. “Did she? I didn’t look.”
She shakes her curls. “I try not to look either but people blow up my phone with this shit.”
“She only goes after you because your big personality makes you an easy target. Fuck her and be you.”
Esme stomps her foot again. “I swear I’m going to find a way to get her back for this. Her old ass has nothing better to do than make me look bad.” Her thoughts are interrupted when her phone vibrates. She smiles and rolls her eyes. “He gets on my nerves.”
We look at her phone when she turns it to us.
Berke: If we’re fucking, why didn’t I get some pussy last night? Doesn’t that bitch know you’d be tied to my bed with no chance of her getting a pic if we were fucking? I’m not the other Hales, love. You’d go missing for weeks. Fuck her.
/> “I take it, that's his vote of solidarity?” Karessa asks.
Esme plant her hands on her hips and look at us. “Y’all know if Berke and I planned to fuck, it would’ve happened by now.”
“True,” we agree in unison.
“Look at it this way, is she worth you being found unkempt in the afternoon?” I pose the question although I’m totally into wearing pajamas all day. But I’m not Esme.
She pats her hair and glances in one of her many mirrors. “You’re right. Imma go beautify myself and go to lunch with Sienna looking like a radiant, unbothered bitch.”
“That’s the spirit! We know those are lies. Go live your single best life,” Karessa cheers.
Esme’s phone rings. She rolls her eyes at the display. I peek to see the display but the number isn’t programmed into her phone.
“Are you not gonna answer that?” I ask to see her reaction.
Esme sets her jaw and her light-brown eyes glow with the defiance that tells me she’s about to be stubborn.
“No. Fuck him, he’s nosy.”
I laugh harder than necessary because I’ve been hearing the male equivalent of this for months.
“You and Berke sound more alike than you think,” I tell her.
“He understands what it’s like to be the media screw up.”
“You are an independent successful woman. You are not a screw up,” Karessa insists.
Esme doesn’t respond because she’s too busy responding to a text. Her cinnamon skin scrunches at her forehead as she stabs the phone with her thumbs.
“Is that the nosy guy?”
“Asks the nosy sister,” Esme volleys as she sticks her tongue out at me.
Well played. I’ll find out who that is whether she likes it or not. I just need another tactic.
“Okay, heifers, give me a hug and let me make myself presentable.”
“You hear that?” Karessa teases. “We drop everything and sneak out on our husbands just to be called heifers.”
