The Weight of Blood (50)

Jules flipped down the sun visor, admiring the new red lippy she’d treated herself to. She shrugged her cropped leather jacket off her shoulders, revealing her new white lace bustier. The type of top she knew Brady would drool over. She caught him staring at her tits, painted with body glitter, and winked. “Maybe.”

The wink was the green light Brady needed. He grabbed her chin and kissed her hard, hands roping around her waist.

Jules had met Brady at the store during summer break right before his sophomore year at Georgia State. He worked in the paint department, mixing and matching color swatches, which he thought would be excellent experience for his architecture degree. Brady had a tall swimmer’s body with perfect white teeth, honey-tanned skin, and dusty-blond hair that he tied back in an adorable man bun. He was neither scared nor impressed by Jules’s status or money. His indifference had intrigued her enough to allow him to take her on a first date.

Of course, her parents had disapproved of their only daughter dating an employee, but they also knew that Jules got bored with toys quickly. While growing up, Jules would often ask for two of every toy she required. One for her, and one for her best friend, whose asshole parents neglected.

Ex-best friend, she thought bitterly. After everything she’d done for her.

Brady had lasted longer than the others, making the two-hour drive to visit Jules whenever he had a spare moment, sacrificing his carefree college life. Although he had the pedigree and an impressive college major, he was as smart as a bag of used nails, and a future together was completely off the table. Jules would hold out for some oil-tycoon trust-fund baby, venture capitalist, or maybe even a football player.

Kenny would’ve been perfect, if Wendy hadn’t gotten to him first.

Couldn’t Wendy tell he wasn’t in love with her? That his interest waffled with the wind? That he would probably dump her before freshman orientation? Wendy deserved to be worshipped, not tolerated. Another reason why Jules knew they were dead wrong about her. Jules was a good person and cared about her friends. But as they say, actions speak louder than words. And she had a plan that would let everyone know she wasn’t one to be fucked over.

Jules pulled away from Brady’s kiss, her lipstick now smudged.

“What? What is it?” Brady asked breathlessly, still holding her tight.

“I feel like painting,” Jules said, staring at the darkened store sign.

“Painting?”

“Yeah. I want to paint a big-ass message to every single one of those assholes. And you’re going to help me.”

His eyes shifted to the store, down to her tits, then back again.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked, ready and eager.

She dug into her leather jacket and procured her father’s master keys. “You remember how to turn off the alarm, right?”

Jules had grown up in the hardware store, the first of ten that her father opened, following her daddy around the aisles, watching him deal with customers and direct his staff. She paid close attention. One day it would all be hers, and she wanted to know how everything functioned so she could teach someone else to do the job for her. Work smarter, not harder.

So it was easy for her to slip into the office and turn off the security monitors. Easy knowing which section of the parking lot didn’t have cameras. Easy to delete any record of her being there at all.

Brady and Jules skipped through the aisles with flashlights, their drunken stupor making everything three times funnier than usual. They made a hard left down aisle seven—the paint department.

Brady lifted Jules up on the counter next to the mixer, unbuttoning her shirt, their slobbery kisses and moans filling the air. They’d had sex in the store several times, playing to her every fantasy while she stared at the seemingly endless shelves of Benjamin Moore and Sherwin-Williams paint cans. But that night, she didn’t want sex. She craved revenge.

“Come on, Brady, focus,” she said with a giggle, running her fingers through his hair.

“I can’t help it, you just look so hot, and you’re so damn brilliant,” he mumbled into her breasts.

Jules had divulged her plan in the car, and his eyes sparkled. He wanted revenge just as bad. No one had seen the way she’d broken down crying after Jason’s party. But Brady had, and said he felt helpless. She’d known he would do anything for her.

Brady helped her off the counter, then turned on the mixer to warm it and took off his jacket. Jules stood in front of a rainbow display of paint strips, shining a light on all the choices.

“What color do you want?” he asked, standing behind her, nibbling on her ear. “We got glass sapphire blue, construction orange, buttercup yellow, park picnic green . . .”

Overwhelmed by the variety, Jules pondered which color would say the most, scream the loudest.

And just as she started to settle on one, she looked down and a smile crept on her face.

“I want that one.”

Brady frowned and stooped to take a better look. “This one? You sure?”

Jules licked her lips. “Yes. It’s perfect!”

Brady scratched his head. “Um, okay, babe.”

She patted his chest. “We’ll need two cans.”

Then she turned, walked down the aisle, and grabbed the biggest plastic bucket she could find.





Thirteen