White Lady by Jessica Bell Read Free Book Online

forwards and rest my arms on the table. “Be honest with me.”
    She shifts her gaze across the street. Her smile fades and her eyes glaze over. The fluoro-dude is back, pacing up and down the street again, with a new bottle of booze in one hand and the knife in the other. Sonia squints at him, glances over at the oblivious cops. Pity plays with her gentle face. I’m pretty sure I know what she’s thinking about.
    “I’d … ,” Sonia whispers, still staring at the guy across the road. “I wouldn’t second-guess myself. Regardless of the consequences. Even if I would end up with blood on my hands.”

Chapter 16
    Celeste: From fit to fake to freak.
    Karter’s taking on a pro bono surgery. I cackle within. Oh my God, what a joke. Okay, okay, I was the one who convinced him to do it by reminding him of the positive publicity and reputation boost. Can you blame me? The money is fab. And so is the spotlight. But I never knew he would do this to me. Force me under the knife. My passion is getting into shape, not cutting into shape. But what could I do? It was either suffer through the drop and fluff, or be ditched for a younger, thinner, more beautiful me.
    “Karter, honey?” I bare my teeth—a smile in his eyes—and quickly pin up my hair before holding a pair of earrings to my ears. “What do you think of these with my new tan?” I spin around on my five-inch heels, flicking my hip to the side, jutting out my newly-healed boob job. I feel sexy in this black Prada gown, all set for tonight’s gala, but what’s the point in wearing $20,000 if he doesn’t even notice it? His eyes go straight to my tits. Of course. He’s admiring his handiwork.
    Karter peers above a pair of invisible spectacles and offers a gentle grin—the one that frequently contradicts his true colours when manipulating a patient into having an unnecessary procedure. I see it all the time. Does he really think I don’t notice when he tries it on me?
    “They look divine.” Karter nods and pinches something off the tip of his tongue. He frowns at a selection of X-rays spread across our bed, shifts a few around. “But if you’d gotten that Botox to accentuate your cheekbones, they’d probably look even better.” He taps his nose.
    “Oh.” I nod and swallow. My smile deflates. Sure, it was fake. But sometimes pretending makes it seem real. I guess there’s no need to cover my emotional wounds anymore. Karter wouldn’t know the difference between genuine hurt and a playful Botox pout.
    “Well, I’ll leave my hair down for tonight, then?”
    Karter’s top lip twitches with his brief nod of acceptance, and he steps inside his five-metre-long closet.
    “Wouldn’t want to draw too much attention to my shapeless face,” I whisper in the mirror, squinting at Karter behind my own reflection. He is sorting through his row of dark-grey tuxedos. He insists they each have their own unique style to suit his mood. I can hardly tell the difference between the grey, the black, and the “Prussian” blue, let alone those of identical colour.
    I unclip my hair. It unravels over my right breast, hangs, motionless—a taunting silky tragedy. I brush it one last time before putting on my powder-pink lippy. Estée Lauder. Honestly? I miss the good old Body Shop on Bourke Street.
    I open my panty drawer and rummage for my stash of Xanax, despite promising myself that I’d no longer self-medicate. I haven’t taken one in three months. I’ve been a really good girl. At Karter’s beck and call. Making sure the housemaids’ work hours are in order so we don’t end up paying for the two of them at once. Really? Who cares! Karter has enough money to pay the wages of every housemaid in America and still retire a billionaire.
    Maybe if I set things straight with Nash once and for all I’ll feel better about myself. I would get some closure. And I could also convince Mia to come and live with me here. But how could I possibly tell Nash I’ve been lying