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59

I turn my head and stare at Tilly leaning against her pearly-white Range Rover. It’s brand-new, and I’m sure, if she opened the door, the ocean breeze would waft the new-car smell right through my window.

“What’s wrong?” she asks. “Forget how to open that mouth of yours? Or is your jaw just too tired from sucking my husband off all night?”

“Why are you here, Tilly?” I don’t have the strength to sit in the sweltering heat, listening to her bitch. I just don’t.

She walks around to the other side of my car and opens the door. Climbing in, she fans her face and looks around. “This is pathetic, Piper. Really fucking pathetic.”

My car isn’t old, but it’s not new either. I bought it brand-new with my own money a few years back and have taken care of it. It’s not pathetic; it just didn’t cost a fortune. “I didn’t ask you to get in.”

“But that’s the thing; you kind of did,” she says as she drums her acrylic nails against her purse.

I stare at her, waiting for her to continue. But she takes her
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