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 had that nauseous feeling in her stomach again, she'd been tossing and turning all night and no, it wasn't because of the heat that had inevitably come with summer. She'd barely gotten in a wink of sleep and by the time the sun peeked over the horizon at dawn, there was bound to be dark circles under her eyes that even her full-coverage concealer would have a hard time hiding.
It had to have been some kind of stomach bug- her hand flew to her forehead to feel for a temperature, but she felt absolutely fine. There was no other possible explanation for it, unless–
Cold dread shot down Bianca's spine, realisation dawning on her that the nausea she'd felt was in fact, guilt.
Now, Bianca really was going to be sick.
She forced herself out of bed to get ready, deciding that she hated the feeling and needed to get rid of it as soon as possible. Bianca threw on a white crop, denim skirt and a headband to match underneath her bikini. True to her words, she had to apply an extra layer of concealer around her eyes before heading downstairs.
She grabbed her sunglasses and car keys from the beside table, hoping to avoid her mother, but cringed when she heard Lydia question, "B? Are you up?"
"Yeah, Mom," She sighed, "I'm going out."
"Okay," The woman called back from the kitchen and just as Bianca reached the front door, "I need your help at the Country Club later today, remember? To test the menu and check out the place, don't be late, okay?"
"Shit," Bianca cursed under her breath, "Yeah- I'll be there, Mom!" She called back before exiting the house.
She quickly got into her convertible and began driving down Figure Eight, pressing the radio on as it began to blast music. The wind whipped through her hair and as she continued down the roads, the the lawns became unruly and the houses more shabby.
Eventually, Bianca pulled up at the one place she never thought she'd go– the Chateau.
Her car stood out like a sore thumb amongst the fallen trees and broken down porch of the Routledge estate and there, leaning forward on one of the couches was John B, sifting through what looked to be a pile of maps. She glanced around with a slight scowl, twisting the Cartier bracelet around her wrist that she hope covered the small bruises that had made its mark against her skin.
John B jumped slightly at the sound of the car door slamming, but quickly recovered, "Bianca?" He frowned.
Bianca payed no mind, instead, she hopped out and leaned against the door of her car, "Yeah it's me- don't cream your pants," she lifted her sable sunglasses to the top of her head.
"It's your turn," She hummed, arms crossed over her chest.
"Uh- for what?" John B's brows furrowed together, getting up to lean against the beams of his porch.
"To ask me what I'm doing here," She said simply.
"Honestly," John B's jaw ticked, he was evidently still infuriated about getting fired, "I don't know and I don't care."
Bianca rolled her eyes, "Just get in the car, loser."
The boy scoffed loudly, "Why the hell would I do that?"
"Sarah wasn't the one who got you fired," Bianca huffed, "I did."
John B narrowed his eyes at her, if anything his glare got harsher, "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" He shook his head, turning away to head inside.
Bianca suddenly mumbled, "I'm sorry," making the brunette pause.
John B smirked, spinning back around to face her, "What was that?"
"I'm sorry!" Bianca forced out, exasperated and pushed herself off the car, "It was selfish and petty and I just wanted to get back at your stupid friend," She said the next part lowly, "I didn't think about what it meant for you."
John B quickly dropped the small smile that had formed on his face and replaced it with a satisfied nod, "What changed?"
"I made friends with a family of squirrels and had lots of time to think," Bianca rolled her eyes sarcastically, "Now will you get in the car- please?"
"Fine," John B scoffed, rounding to the passenger side of her car to get in, "But if this is one of your revenge schemes to take me out into the middle of the woods and kill me-"
"Too much work- too messy," Bianca rolled her eyes as she got into the driver's seat and put her key into ignition, "You think these nails are cheap?"
She gestured to her manicured hands pained in a nude pink shade, but the formula was supposed to be some organic bullshit. She figured she'd spend as much money as possible since money equaled happiness in Bianca's mind. It didn't, by the way, but it also didn't hurt.
"Yeah, whatever," John B mumbled, "This better be worth it."
Bianca sped off back to Figure Eight while John B gripped his seatbelt and the side of the car the entire while, "Woah- in America, we drive on the right side of the road!" He almost shouted, "You're the worst driver I know-"
"Yeah, well you don't know many people so I don't know how relevant that is," Bianca scowled when she took a particularly sharp turn around the corner, "So, my dad owns a bunch of hotels around the-"
"Yeah, I know," John B interjected, it was common knowledge that the Prescott's were drowning in wealth all coming from their line of hotels along the East Coast and her mother, Lydia came from old money. All in all, their family was loaded.
"Well, we've got one on the island," Bianca ignored his interruption and continued, "Most of them are spread out, like they've started construction on one down in Nassau, that's why my dad keeps going on a lot of business trips and he's barely around much- super busy. But his central office is here on Figure Eight- he likes to operate from the island since it's where my Mom grew up-"
"-Okay, I get it," John B quickly stopped her before she talked his ear off, "But what's this got to do with me?"
