Perversion (Perversion Trilogy #1)(5)

“Aren’t you adorable.” Marci scratched the cat’s head and cooed. The little shit purred at her, leaning into her palm.

She took Mr. Fuzzy from my hands and held him against her chest. “That kind of girl is gonna either take over the world someday—” She lowered her sunglasses from the top of her head over her eyes. “—or be the one who fucking destroys it.”

I didn’t doubt that. Not for a second.

Marci walked around her Firebird and opened the driver’s door. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Home?

Not A home. Not THE home.

Just home.

“Oh, and you might want to check your wallet.” Marci got in the car with Fuzzy on her lap. She started the engine.

With the passenger door open, I dug my hand into the back pocket of my worn jeans.

Nothing.

Son of a fucking bitch.

It was the first time I was conned by Emma Jean Parish.

It wouldn’t be the last.





Two





Twelve Years Old


Tristan.

That was a super cool name.

He had tattoos. A lot of ‘em.

Plus, he was tall and mysterious with that whole hoodie thing.

He smoked cigarettes, which I know are bad for you, even so, he looked good doing it.

And despite what that bitch in the suit said about him being dumb, she was wrong. He’s far from it. I could see his intelligence shining in his golden eyes.

He’s perfect.

I never thought anyone was perfect before. I never even thought a boy was handsome or even cute.

Until Tristan.

I felt a zap of energy run through my arm when I touched him, and I knew he felt it, too, because he looked downright shocked.

We zapped. Surely, that was in a fairytale somewhere. And it wasn’t static electricity because I wasn’t anywhere near a carpet and I wasn’t barefoot.

I looked down at the torn fabric wallet in my hands, and a strange sensation came over me to return it.

Humpf. That’s a new one.

I’d never felt guilty before. I wasn’t going to start now. I pushed the unfamiliar feeling aside, because I had an overwhelming need to open it. To know more about this Tristan who was unlike anyone I’d ever met before.

The driver’s license inside revealed Tristan’s last name. Paine.

No middle name.

Then again, I didn’t have a middle name either. Just two first names. My parents died shortly after I was born, so I’ve always imagined my own version of how I might have come to have two first names.

My mother really wanted to name me Emma, and my dad really wanted to name me Jean, so they compromised and decided to call me Emma Jean. Of course, they decided this while holding hands and looking down lovingly into my bassinet, singing me lullabies in perfect harmony until I drifted off to sleep.

I was always making up stories. It was my way of escaping. Right now, was starting to think about a quiet bad boy prince.

Tristan. I said his name a few times in my head.

Aunt Ruby walked into the living room with her hair a tangled mess and a cigarette dangling from her mouth with last night’s lipstick smeared across her chin.

I quickly shut the wallet and tucked it behind the curtains on the window sill.

“What you got there?” she asked. Reaching behind me, she plucked the wallet from its hiding spot.

I made a panicked grab for it. “Wait! Mine!”

“Shush, child. We both know that’s not true.”

I had TWO first names. Aunt Ruby never called me by either of them. Child was the most endearing thing she’d ever called me.

Aunt Ruby didn’t bother looking at the ID. Her only concern was cash. She took out a folded piece of paper and glanced at it briefly before dropping it to the floor. She removed the few bills and counted it out. Thirty-four dollars. She tossed the wallet at my feet, tucking the cash into her bra.

“At least, this little hobby of yours yields results,” she muttered, the stub of a cigarette hanging from the corner of her wrinkled lips. She grabbed her keys from the cluttered hall table. She didn’t tell me where she was going, but she didn’t have to.

Because I already knew.

The casino in Lacking, two towns over. It was always the casino. She put out her cigarette and lit another. Grabbing her purse from the floor, she opened the front door and flinched when the sunlight hit her face. She shielded her eyes with her hand. Without so much as a goodbye and with last night’s makeup clumping her eyelashes together, she was gone.

I sunk to the floor and picked up the folded piece of paper. My shoulders drooped in defeat. I really was going to give it back this time.

Maybe.

I unfolded the paper, but it wasn’t paper at all. It was a photo of a little boy version of Tristan and a woman with the same piercing golden eyes. He had his arm around her and they were both wide-eyed and…smiling.

My heart skipped a beat.

“Emma Jean!” Gabby said, running through the front door with her older sister Mona close on her heels. Mona ignored me and headed upstairs. Gabby looked panicked. Her long dark hair was matted with sweat on her forehead. Her dark eyes brimmed with tears.

“What?” I said, standing and tucking the picture into my pocket.

“I’m leaving,” she whispered. “Marco, my brother, he’s taking me and Mona in.”