Bloody Heart by Sophie Lark EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Sophie Lark
- Language: English
- Genre: Organized Crime Thrillers
- Format: PDF/ EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
SIMONE SOLOMON
Simone! Why aren’t you ready?”
My mother stands in the doorway, already dressed for the
party.
By contrast, I’m wearing sweat shorts and a Wonder Woman t-shirt,
because I was curled up in my window seat, lost in a book.
“What time is it?” I ask, confused.
“What time do you think it is?” Mama says, smiling slightly.
I would have said two or three in the afternoon, but the fact that she’s
already put on her evening gown clues me in that it must be later.
“Uh . . . six?” I guess.
“Try seven-thirty.”
“Sorry!” I say, jumping up from the window, knocking my copy of
Wuthering Heights onto the carpet.
No wonder I’m starving. I missed lunch, and apparently dinner too.
“You’d better hurry,” Mama says. “Your father already called for the
car.”
“The car is waiting, actually,” my father says.
He stands next to Mama. They’re the most elegant pair imaginable—
both tall, slim, impeccably dressed. His rich, dark coloring next to her
fairness is the only contrast between them. Otherwise, they’re perfectly
matched.
Sometimes my father wears bright Kente cloth on formal occasions.
Tonight he’s dressed in a black tuxedo with a velvet lapel. The lavender
calla lily in his boutonnière is the exact shade of my mother’s gown.
Next to their sleek perfection, I feel like I’m all elbows and knees. Too
awkward to even be seen with them.
“Maybe you should go on without me . . .” I say.
“Nice try,” Mama says. “Hurry and get dressed.”
I stifle my groan. At first, I was excited to be home from boarding
school. Chicago seemed like a whirlwind of parties, galas, and events. Now,
only a few months later, they’re all starting to blur together. I’m tired of
champagne and canapés, polite conversation, and even politer dancing.
Plus, I wish my sister came along more often.
“Is Serwa coming?” I ask Mama.
“No,” she says, a small line forming between her eyebrows. “She’s not
having a very good day.”
My parents leave me alone to dress.
I have a whole closet of gowns to choose from, most of them bought
this year. I run my fingertips down the rainbow of fabric, trying to choose
quickly.
I could spend an hour like this. I’m a bit of a daydreamer, and I love
beautiful things. Especially clothes.
An interest in fashion can be perceived as frivolous. In my mind,
clothes are wearable art. They’re the statement that precedes you into every
room. They’re the tools that shape people’s perception before you’ve
spoken a word.
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