book 1 of 3
ever since bianca 'b' prescott was born, she was told that she was the fairest of them all. and like any, the island's very own kook princess had a reputation- she was stubborn and shallow and most of all, she was a spoiled bitch. but ev...
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Bianca gazed up at the shitty, run-down shack of a house and gulped audibly, "Rafe, what the hell are we doing here?"
"B," Rafe warned lowly, putting the kickstand down and helping the girl off the bike, "For once in your life, I need you to keep your mouth shut."
The girl narrowed her eyes, opening her mouth to disagree, but she took once glance at burly salt-lifers with unruly beards and cold beers in their hands before nodding quickly.
Satisfied with her compliance, Rafe threw an arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his side, "Stay close to me, okay?"
Bianca didn't respond, instead she was trying to avoid the dirty stares of the unruly men leering at her against the porch and found herself pulling her sage-colored sundress further down. Loud rap music blasted from within the house as they walked up the front steps, the wooden boards creaking beneath Bianca's white sneakers.
They passed an older looking man with a five o'clock shadow in a sweat-stained tank, "You should pop that collar, bro," He mocked, his breath reeking of beer. Rafe glared, but knew better than to start something he couldn't finish and ushered his girlfriend who was having a hard time biting her tongue.
"Hey, Barry!" Rafe called to the group sitting around the couch on the front porch and a man with a greasy ponytail and ripped singlet top stood up.
"Hey, Country Club," Barry grinned, a gold tooth glinting in the afternoon sunlight spilling through the window.
"What's up, bro?" Rafe nodded and Bianca frowned, even more confused how her boyfriend knew these people.
"What's good with you, man?" Barry strutted over before his eyes caught the girl's, "And who's this pretty li'l thing?"
Bianca had to stifle a comment about her not being a 'thing,' but Rafe quickly interjected, "This is my girl, B," and if the situation wasn't so anxiety-inducing, the butterflies inside Bianca's chest may have fluttered– but they were too busy choking on second-hand smoke.
"What's up, B?" Barry grinned down at the girl while patting Rafe on the back in a side-hug, "Name's Barry."
"Yeah," Bianca said simply as she shook his mud stained hands and couldn't help but scowl at the dirt underneath his fingernails.
"Should've worn a wife beater," Rafe joked, but there was some underlying truth beneath it. Back in Figure Eight, the Cameron name warranted respect, but down here on the Cut, wearing a polo shirt gave everyone the green light to spit on your shoes.
