Page 5 of The Perfect Wrong
I’m just finishing my third drink, an extra tall Long Island iced tea.
The gaping yawn that slips out of me says I should go soon, but I have a reason to linger. To delay the inevitable.
Sigh.
I’m running behind on my senior paper pitch and I just...I don’t want to deal with it tonight.
Professor Thosser might be the biggest hardass in the whole journalism department. He’s also the teacher holding all the keys to a nice post-grad internship, or maybe a full-blown career after school.
Needless to say, I’m determined to impress him.
Unfortunately, that means turning in a thesis, outline, and starting on a draft before summer ends. Ideally, something interesting enough for him to cite in his Op-Eds to the big papers and endless seminars.
A few simple citations for other students over the years landed them gigs with serious money and mobility. One guy wound up a full-time author, launching multiple books onto bestsellers’ lists.
Oh, and I’m also supposed to meet my new stepbrother tomorrow.
Stressed?
Yes, I am.
When Dad tied the knot for the second time in his life a couple months ago, it flipped my whole world upside down.
Calling it weird is a mammoth understatement.
Even weirder, they went from dating toI doin barely a season. I knew Dad was infatuated when he started mentioning this woman in every conversation, but I never expected this kind of insta-love.
Sure, Evangeline looks exactly like the sort of hot, prestigious trophy wife a towering older airline executive should have.
She’s also a washed-up Hollywood bombshell with three ex-husbands and at least two bankruptcies behind her. I looked into her to make sure she wasn’t atotalgold digger.
If the tabloids are honest—and I’ve seen her mentioned plenty in places likeThe Chicago Tea—she’s been fighting to claw her career back ever since she starred in a few slapstick teenage comedies a decade ago.
I’ve barely been around her for a full week, so I shouldn’t be so harsh.
Still. I just don’t get it, and maybe I don’t want to.
It’s not like my straitlaced father to elope with a stranger. Much less an aggressive, demanding Hollywood starlet with so much baggage she could employ a small army to carry it.
I don’t mean to be shallow.
I don’t like pinning down her whole character from a few brief conversations and some unsavory baggage. Who doesn’t have that?
But honestly? So far, it just seems like beauty is all she’s got.
And I’m a little afraid to think my sensitive, headstrong Dad might just be one more overworked rich guy whose brain falls out when he gets his first chance with a hot younger woman.
I guess I’ll just have to trust he’s—
My brain freezes.
There’s a figure standing on the cliff overlooking the ocean. If it weren’t for the blaring LED in his hand, I wouldn’t even see him.
He’s only there for a second before he leaps, plunging into the black Pacific like a water sprite.
“Holy crap!” I gasp, bolting up.
Is hecrazy?