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“Is she here to do a makeover on me? Make sure I look all pretty and fancy?” I use a hillbilly accent while releasing my hair and shaking my head. “Make me a suit, little sister.”
“Don’t fucking mock me, Jacob.” She takes a couple of steps toward me and gets in my face. My almost-a-foot-shorter-than-me little sister manages to make me feel small, both in size and age.
“Ana’s going to help you clean up all the shit that’s going through the media. Not you in particular, unless you want her to recommend a good stylist. Though the ends of your hair could use a trim, Prince Charming.”
I pull a strand of my hair and look at the supposed split ends. I have no fucking idea what she’s talking about, but a grin tugs at my mouth as I realize she’s not here to change me. During the last weekend, those were the words I couldn’t tune out— “You need to change, Jacob…get your act together.”
Change, change, change, blah, blah…blah, blah!
“Well, let’s get started then. Ana, this is my brother. Jacob, Ana.”
Finally, I move my gaze from the hot body and look at her face. For several beats, I remain paralyzed.
The apparition before me is familiar, but she’s wearing high heels instead of a pair of raggedy, pink Converse. A gray skirt hugs her curves in place of the old, ratty capris with the doodles all over the legs. A tight, white, button-down blouse that accentuates her fine rack—maybe Ds—replaces the pink T-shirt that had matched her pink lips.
As a man, I appreciate the fantasy of the eye candy I’m admiring. If it weren’t for those dark eyes, I wouldn’t have recognized the woman in front of me. This is the complete opposite of how the teenage girl I once knew looked or dressed.
She is now a grown woman who I want to taste. Damn, those tits are fuller, just like her heart-shaped lips. Slick, long hair covers her shoulders but with feathered layers that frame her face. An elegant, classy, real woman with curves stands before me—a refreshing change from my usual fuck.
Pria “Ana” Walker isn’t a child anymore. She now wears makeup—some stuff over those long lashes that makes her eyes bigger, radiant, and warm. So warm they can heat the cold caves of my life. Something snaps inside me, but I don’t allow anything to resurface from my past. She watches me with a scrunched-up, disgusted face as if I’m a rat she has to exterminate. My insides clench because I shouldn’t be reacting this way.
We’d met, and I’d said some pretty fucked-up things during our first encounter but came out triumphant in the end. My lips fight with my soul as the pleasure of the time with her starts to come back.
Then I remember everything else about those days and the history of my life. We don’t need Ana here. I refuse to have that woman around. I can be whatever my family wants without some lady transforming me into whatever the public wants. I let loose the asshole within me and lash out at her.
“Ana.” That one cold word comes out of my lips. No wonder I couldn’t find the bitch. She concocted that fucked-up name. I fucked up my life while searching for her, then destiny finished the job.
“You remind me of someone.” I tilt my head and look at her from head to toe. “What was her name?”
I snap my fingers and look at Ainsley as if I’m trying to recall a name.
“No fucking idea, sure it never mattered.”
This “Ana” girl thanks my sister and says some shit I tune out. She looks at me and spits some venom.
“Pria. The name was Pria, Jacob. Short for Cipriana. I might’ve changed my nickname, but you…” she turns to look at Ainse, “you might want to consider a brand-new personality for him, Ainsley. Rehab might come in handy too.”
With a lifted chin and a snobbish posture, she leaves. The brush off worked. She’s out of my building and my life.
“I don’t need rehab.” My sister stares at me after Pria, Ana, or whoever that woman was, storms out of the office. “Do I?”
“Jacob, what just happened?” Ainsley’s eyes are on me. “She knows you. You did your typical male ritual with her, didn’t you? Fucked her and told her, ‘Sweetheart, I never stick my dick in the same place twice.’”
“No. I… Ainsley, drop the subject.” I’m working hard to find my footing. If anyone could throw me to the fucking lions and enjoy watching while they shred me to pieces, it would be my evil sister. My parents swear she’s sweet and nice. Matthew and I know better. “This isn’t any of your damn business.”
Ainsley doesn’t know much about what happened with my college girlfriend. I never shared her name or what happened between us. It’s something I don’t want to remember. I promised to forget. I look at my wrist, at the leather cuff covering the tattoo that readsSoulless.
The accident made me lose hope. Something was ripped out of my body, leaving it hollow.
Soulless.
“She’s your ticket to fix all your shit at the record label—and your image,” my sister says, beginning to unveil her evil plan. “We only scratched the surface with the press release. She’s great at what she does, and she needs a job—and us. Ana doesn’t have a support system like I did, Jacob. She’s drowning, and she’s my friend. This job will help her and her family. It’s a win-win situation. Tell me what happened between the two of you.”
Drowning?
The woman I saw stood proud with a casual demeanor until she saw me. Then, she froze with the shocked stare someone would have while confronting a ghost from the past. However, she recovered in a matter of seconds. Just like my sister, who put on a strong front, fooling me into believing she had been doing great, but instead had been living through hell alone.
A heavy mist fills my lungs—worry for what Pria might be going through blocks my mind. It’s not that I care for her, but… no one should face hell alone. Is it her sister? Did Maeve die? I might not want to be close to her, but my instinct is to figure out how to help her. We’re talking about the woman who has lived to be at the beck and call of her family. If she needed a support system back in college, I bet she needs it now even more.
