Twisted

Chapter 16

Britney’s POV.

“Damn it,” Ashley silently curses, shaking her head.

I turn my head to the swearing under Ashley’s breath and roll my eyes at how fucking pathetic she is. “Seriously, did you honestly believe that Erin would fall for that bullshit, for even one second?”

“Shut the hell up,” Ashley snaps, startling me. “No one asked for you damn input, Britney.”

“Whoever does?” Jake mutters besides me.

Laughing, I face my idiot of a twin. “You just agree with everything she says, huh? Why don’t you just go fuck her again, like you always do? I’m sure that’ll take her mind off of Erin.”

“Fuck you,” Ashley spat.

Jake’s jaw hardens, and he yanks his seatbelt off. “Screw you.” Then, he turns around to face Ashley. His face is cold as ice. “Both of you.”

He quickly opens the door of my car, and slams it behind him, not bothering to once look back. I smirk, while I pull my rearview mirror down to look at Ashley. “Well, well, well. It seems a though you’ve managed to piss off two people that you use to fuck, congratulations.”

Ashley opens her mouth to say something, then quickly closes it. She pauses a moment, then says, “I need to tell Erin what I did. I can’t live like this anymore, Britney. I want him back. I need him.”

“If you tell Erin anything, then you can kiss that damn twenty thousand dollars goodbye!” I snap. “For once in your life, don’t be such a selfish bitch and think of what the fuck will happen to me, Kelly, Samantha, and even you. I’m talking lawsuits, maybe even jail time. You think Erin will want you then, huh? Cause once you tell him what you did, it’s over.” I ended my speech with my hands thoroughly gripped on the driver’s wheel. My eyes send her a murderous stare.

I can tell by her facial expression that my words are beginning to sync in. Ashley’s face softens “You’re right.”

“Duh.”

“Well, I guess I’ll get going. Wait a minute, what’s that?” Ashley asks. She bends down and picks up, to my surprise, a jacket, a purple one, and studies the exterior. I recognize it immediately. “Who’s is this?”

My knuckles tightened around the wheel, and I grit my teeth. “Marilyn.”

Ashley raises her eyebrow. “Roberts?”

“No fucktard, Marilyn Monroe,” I viciously bite back.

Ignoring me, she asks, “How did Marilyn Robert’s jacket end up in your car? You two cool or something?”

“Of course not, don’t make me sick. I whether be friends with the very dirt that grounds my sneakers than be friends with that bitch,” I say. “Erin carried that purple jacket with him to the car.  He must’ve forgotten it.”

Now,  it was Ashley’s turn to get angry. “Well what the fuck was he doing with her jacket?”

I narrow my eyes at her. “How the hell should I know?”

“I swear,” Ashley harshly exhales while examining the jacket. “If that homewrecker even thinks about coming anywhere near Erin, I’m going to kick her ass.”

An idea emerges in my head, and my face meets Ashley’s gaze, giving her a wicked smile.  “Why don’t you say we go pay our friend, Marilyn, a little visit, then?

***

Ashley and I find Marilyn sitting with the freaks and geeks of the acapella department at lunch. Her long, brown hair is brought together in a high ponytail, and it sashayed from side to side  depending on whom she was addressing. A pencil was tucked behind her ear, and she wore black, framed glasses on her face, and a long sleeved checkered plaid top. Her lips moved in concentration to the boys and girls at her table. Everything about her domineer screamed  rich, sophisticated, and too smart to deal with nonsense.