Sorority Girls With Guns by Cat Caruthers Read Free Book Online Page A

“No, but I am every bit as talented a singer as she is.”
    We’ve reached the end of the pier now, and the moonlight would be romantic…if Hoolio’s nose ring wasn’t throwing such a glare in my eyes. It occurs to me, as Hoolio takes a step closer, that I’ve never actually kissed a guy with such a big nose ring. The little studs, sure, small rings, but this is one of those huge double-nostril numbers that would look cruel if it was stuck in a bull’s nose.
    Here’s the problem: I really, really hate my own nose, because it’s long and beakish and absolutely my worst feature. I would get it fixed in an instant, but the truth is that I really don’t trust doctors. You have one quack send you on one horrifically bad trip – we’re talking the sort of thing I’ve heard old people wax poetic about when recounting what little they remember of the sixties – in a failed attempt at anesthesia and you never mess with that shit again.
    So, how this affects the problem at hand – I have a long nose and Hoolio has a big, honking nose ring and he’s leaning in for the kiss and I decide to just turn my head so I don’t awkwardly clunk his nose ring. Apparently he’s already thought of this, because he leans his head to the side too, and too late I realize that we’re going to miss. I end up catching the corner of his mouth with my tongue, and that’s about it for that kiss.
    “ Kissing with this nose ring takes some practice,” Hoolio says, and I can see his face getting red in the moonlight.
    “ Okay, just hold still.” I stand up on tiptoe – Hoolio, like most people in the world, is a lot taller than me – and kiss him, just long enough to leave him wanting more.
    The next step, for me anyway, is always to bounce back to hard-to-get immediately. “I’ll see you around,” I say, and start walking back toward the hotel.
    As I predicted, Hoolio runs after me like a dog going after a tennis ball. “I’ll be working at the restaurant during the day, but I get off at five.”
    “ Sounds nice.” I keep walking.
    “ What are you doing tomorrow night?”
    I continue walking, but slow my pace so he can keep up. “I don’t know. I’ll have to check with my friends. We’ll probably spend the day together, hanging around the beach or something.”
    “ Well, if they ditch you for a party tomorrow night, maybe we could hang out,” Hoolio says.
    I shrug noncommittally. “Sure, if I’m free.” I pull his phone out of his shirt pocket, enter my number, and hand it back to him. “See you around.”
    Chapter Six
    "I'd like to thank my friend Tiffany for her support, but all she ever did was tell me to give up on getting famous and find a rich guy to marry. I'd like to thank my friend Morgan, but she once told me I had as much chance of getting my own reality show as the Grumpy Cat had of being in a good mood. I'd like to thank-"
    "Shade!" Morgan is screaming at me and shaking me out of my awesome dream. "Wake up! It's an emergency!"
    My eyes open and my brain, still half-asleep, attempts to process the situation: I am not on stage accepting my first of many Grammys. I am in a dumpy motel room with cigarette holes in the hideous bedspread and rust spots creeping across the brass lamp on the nightstand. And Morgan is standing by my bed, shaking me awake and screaming that there's an emergency.
    "What's...happening?" I have trouble finding my words before I'm awake. That would be before I have my coffee. "Are they having a sale on Miss Me skinny jeans?"
    "No, this is serious!" Morgan yells. As my brain starts to function, I realize that she must be right. The thing about Morgan is that she always looks perfect - her hair, her makeup, her clothes. Nothing ever fails to match. She never has a hair out of place.
    Well, she never did until now. Her hair is uncombed, tumbling in dark waves around a pale, makeup-less and totally unnatural-looking face. (It takes Morgan at least three layers of makeup to reach a