Page 4 of The B!tch is Bad

With her honey blonde hair flowing over her naked shoulder, she had a beautiful soul imprisoned behind that sorrowful face. She possessed a rare mixture of innocence and melancholy, as though her full lips were about to say “take me.” Or maybe “save me.”

“Wow,” breathed Wolf. “That tit is begging to be squeezed.” He started to demonstrate with the hand that held the hammer, but Wildstar grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“No,” he commanded. “This hottie is mine.”

“Yours?” scoffed Lytton. “Fox bought this off DeStory to display here.”

“I’ll pay you double,” said Wildstar.

Pippa shouldered her way to the front of the crowd. “It’s not that,” she said, fingers on her chin. “It’s so creepy the way this reminds me of Patience.”

“Who?” I asked.

“You’re right,” agreed Wildstar. “It does look like her. Man, she’s harder to get into than a Pearl Jam concert.”

Wolf waved a hand. “No. Patience is brunette.”

“So what?” said Wildstar. “People can dye their hair.”

Pippa’s demeanor changed on a dime. “That’s it,” she snapped, covering the budding girl with the brown paper. “I’m not looking at this all day, and I’m sure Patience doesn’t want to see it either. I’ll tell Fox sorry. Let me text him, find out what he paid. Sean, you can have it at cost.”

Wildstar raised his arm to high five whoever congratulated him, but it sure wasn’t me.

I blurted, “I’ll pay Fox double.”

Wildstar looked down his nose at me. “Hey! We’re in this together. You can’t bid against me.”

“Why do I keep hearing my name?”

All our bitching stopped pronto.

And there she stood.

The pre-Raphaelite vision of the painting, her liquid brown eyes examined our faces for an explanation. Glossy chocolate brown hair slipped over rounded translucent shoulders. Those luscious cupid lips opened, but no more sound came out because she knew we were guilty.

We’d been bidding for her soul.