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“I do not!” Priss says in a very Carrigan-esque tone.
“You kinda do, baby,” I say, pulling her onto my lap and grinding my now hard dick against her ass.
“I do it too,” Tally says with a shrug. “I’m putting it down to the fact that we’ve been deprived of nice food and stuff, just ignore them. Have you had pizza yet?”
“I can’t eat pizza, I’m gluten and dairy intolerant,” Priss reels off without thought.
“No, you’re not,” Tally says.
Priss tenses and I press a kiss to her neck, hoping that my touch will make her relax a little.
“You can eat whatever the fuck you want,” Tally shouts. “We both can. In fact, that should be the first thing we do as the start of our revenge on them. We’ll take a picture of us both stuffing our faces with some gourmet pizza and tag both Mom and Dad in it,” she cries, jumping out of Arlo’s lap and grabbing one of the danishes, taking an aggressively large bite from it.
She’s angry, and I get that, we’re all angry for both the girls, but I’m still not entirely sure what Priss will do in response to her sister’s anger. What I’m not expecting is for her to stand up, grab a pastry and take a bite, like she’s eating in solidarity with her twin.
It’s a weird protest, but I kind of love it. Grabbing my cell, I stand up, pull up the camera app and turn it on the girls. “Say ‘fuck you’. I’m gonna post it directly to your mom’s Facebook wall.”
Tally drapes her arm around Priss, pressing their identical faces together as they take bites of their sticky, sugary treat, smiling manically at the camera.
“Perfect,” I say with a smile taking the picture.
The moment I lower my cell, Priss moans dramatically, sighing as she licks the cinnamon sugar from her lips. “What even is this? It’s amazing.”
“It’s a cinnamon bun,” Tally tells her enthusiastically.
Laughing, I capture my girl around her waist and sit back down, pulling her into my lap and swallowing back the three words that are desperately trying to form on my lips.
5
Carrigan
Somehow my sister’s familiar anger forces away Mom’s voice inside of my head, saying that I shouldn’t be eating this pastry or drinking my second cup of coffee with the rich, caramelly creamer that tastes delicious; and instead I just enjoy the food.
I’m sure I’ll hate myself later for it, but for right now surrounded by Carson and buoyed on by Tally, my mom can’t get to me. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, but I like it.
“Okay, the food porn and pictures are done,” Watson announces, sneering at me like I’m the dirt on the bottom of his shoe. “Are we plotting some revenge or what?”
Rolling my eyes, I lean back into Carson’s chest, letting him hold me up as I drink my ten-thousand-calorie drink.
“Does anyone have a pad and a pen?” Tallulah asks.
“No 1980, but I do have an iPad and my finger,” Olly jeers playfully.
“Fine whatever, a pen and paper would work just as well,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Carrigan, did you have anything in mind? I have a few ideas, just stupid stuff to piss them off, but every bit of revenge is worth it. Right?”
“I…” I pause, glancing at the mixed bag of expressions on the faces of the people around me. Carson is stoically supportive, my sister excited, Arlo pensive, Olly amused, and Watson is scowling. “I thought we could leak it to the press that they’re dead.”
There’s complete silence for a minute, then Watson snickers. “Well fuck, Crueligan, that’s a hell of a fucking start.”
“What do you mean exactly?” Olly asks thoughtfully.
Leaning forward a little, I place my cup on the coffee table. “Well, if we leak to the press that they were killed in a yachting accident out at sea or whatever, then we can low key fuck with everything.”
“Won’t they just announce it’s not true?” Arlo asks.
“I don’t even know where they are,” I say with a shrug, “They’re not in the states, so even if it takes a few days for the news to reach them, it’ll annoy the crap out of them. We could even release a statement saying that as Tallulah and I are estranged from our parents, we don’t know where they are.”
“I love it,” Watson says. “The tabloids love fake news, hell, we might even be able to get into the house to get your stuff.”
