The Entitled (The Entitled Duet 1)

“Jesus Christ, Tess! You’re shaking. Please stop crying. You’re killing me.”

Lifting my chin, he stares at me. “You know what, screw that! Let it go. Fucking freak out if you want.” He crushes me to his warm chest, rocking me back and forth, then opens the bathroom door, pulling me with him around a corner and through a side exit.

“You know that door is for the employees.”

“You need some air.”

We’re in the alley, but I can still see the quaint street we came in on. It’s alive with twentysomethings mingling and shopping.

“I want to feel like them,” I say, motioning to the carefree girls who are laughing at something on one of their phones.

“I hate him, Brance. And I hate my father. They stole that from me.”

Brance glances at the giggling teenagers. I notice my mascara has stained his pale pink button-down shirt.

“If it makes you feel better, I hate him too. Reed, not your father.”

I snort, then wipe at his shirt. “I think I got snot on you.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. But you have to let him go if you’re ever going to feel like them.” He tilts his head toward the giggling girls.

I nod because it’s true. It’s time to bury Reed Saddington.

“I need your help.”

He smiles, his pretty white teeth, distracting me. “Anything.”

“Good.” A siren goes by. “I want to dye my hair blond,” I yell over the sound.

He frowns. “Blond?”

“Uh-huh… and I want to pump my lips with collagen.”

He blinks at me. “Excuse me?” He grabs my elbow, moving us away from the dumpster and the rancid smells inside it.

“You heard me,” I say, wiping my eyes. This is going to take some manipulation.

“No way. No lips. You want to dye your hair, fine. No lips. You’ll look like one of the Simpsons.”

Rubbing my nose, I say, “Brance, I love you, but I’m going to do this, so you can either support me or go home.”

Hurt darkens his eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah, I’m done being nice.”

“Apparently.”

“Whatever, I can tell you think I’m being dramatic… and immature.”

“You are.”

We stare at each other in silence. Until I feel a slight drizzle on my eyelashes.

Brance shakes his head. “Congratulations, Tess. Way to let Reed drag you down again.”

“I want to be blond and have big fat lips. Just once, I want to tell everyone to fuck off.”

“You already have big fat lips,” he snarls.

“Bigger. You know what I mean. I want to do something that Reed would hate. I need to be everything he despises. Call it closure.”

Brance looks baffled, but then his lips start to twitch.

“Don’t you dare laugh!” I say, my lips starting to twitch also.

Looking down at the wet pavement, he responds at last. “Well, I guess you’re going to be a blonde then. I will, of course, be there to hold your hand and make sure you don’t look like shit.” His voice is uncharacteristically weary, like he knows I’m lying about wanting closure.

“I hate you changing anything on yourself. You’re perfect and you know it.”

“That’s exactly why I need to do this—because I’m not perfect. No one is. I’m desperately flawed. But I’m okay with that, and I need for others to see that too.”

“Whatever you need, Pretty Girl.” Suddenly the door opens, and a waiter steps out, lighting a cigarette. Brance smiles as his foot stops the door from shutting. “After you.”

“Thank you,” I say, walking toward my father’s dark head and Lana’s light.TESSI stare at myself in the mirror. I don’t believe I did this. Holy shit!

My long brown hair has been bleached blond and not like dishwater blond. We’re talking Marilyn Monroe blond. Leaning forward, I darken my eyelids and smear on some dark plum lip gloss.

Transformation complete.

Lana’s plastic surgeon kicked ass. He did my lips as a favor. I guess he doesn’t sully himself with collagen anymore. The bickering between Brance and Lana over how much collagen I needed was rather amusing. The poor surgeon had to play referee.

I can’t help but smile at my reflection. I love them! Slightly puffy, completely kissable lips. Gone is my darkness.

My albatrosses are gone at last. As I sat in the doctor’s chair, my mind replayed the last three years. The sting of the needle going into my bottom lip is nothing compared to the pain of losing Reed. That and the pathetic relationship with my father. I had hoped throughout all the heartache I have endured, I would come away with his love. But he kept that locked up, like he does everything else with me. The humiliation still burns through me at his complete lack of compassion. I thought I would die with shame being dragged into a gynecologist to be put on birth control. Even when I swore I wasn’t having sex. Not to mention the constant disapproval of my clothes and that he seems to believe I loved Reed simply to mock him.