Dirty Ink by Sienna Blake EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Sienna Blake
- Language: English
- Genre: New Adult & College Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Rachel
Getting married was supposed to be romantic.
So far all I could say about it was that it involved a lot of waiting in
lines, a lot of filling out forms, a lot of unpleasant forms.
“It smells like piss in here,” JoJo complained as she spun the pen on its
chain round and round. “At least on the subway, you get a little whiff of pizza
now and then. They don’t even let you eat in here. And why? Because
someone might spill something on these pristine yellow laminate floors?
Because someone might actually have fun in this hell hole?”
I smiled pleasantly at the woman behind the smeared glass window when
she looked up from the top of her glasses.
“What my vocal friend means to say,” I explained while tugging the pen
from JoJo’s hand and setting it carefully back in the holder, “is that we’re
very grateful for your help. And that civil servants such as yourself are the
reason why this great city keeps running. And your offices here at city hall
are only a tiny bit dirty because of how many people you help on a daily
basis. Did I say we’re grateful?”
The woman pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “I need to go doublecheck something,” she said in a bored monotone.
She pushed back her chair and disappeared into the aisles upon aisles of
file folders. I groaned and let my head flop over my arms on the counter. My
feet hurt, stuffed into the cream pumps Tim preferred. I’d worn a shift dress
of white linen and a cream cotton blazer and despite it being all natural
materials, all the finest natural materials (I was assured) it felt stifling in the
unmoving air of the records basement. My hair was done up in the tight, tidy
bun (Tim said it showed off my neck, but I suspected he found my hair down
too wild, too untamed, too…Brooklyn) and I could feel each and every pin
jamming into my skull.
I dragged my head back up with a tired sigh and found JoJo giving me
that look.
“Don’t,” I said.
“Don’t what?” she said, batting innocent neon-green eyelashes.
“Don’t say what you were about to say.”
She cupped her cheeks, which caught the florescent light and glowed
lavender, and smiled.
“All I was going to say was, ‘Darling, shall we have the pinot grigio or
the pinot bigio for lunch with Mother?’”
I rolled my eyes. “There’s no such thing as a pinot bigio.”
JoJo jabbed me in the chest. She was always more violent than she
needed to be. Probably something to do with the fact that she was only a hair
over five feet on a good day. She compensated with four-inch platform boots
and painful displays of superior strength.
I licked my thumb and swiped at the stain of pink eyeliner she’d
smudged on my dress.
“That’s my point!” She flailed dramatically against the counter. “The
Rachel I know would never say, ‘There’s no such thing as a pinot bigio.’”
“But there isn’t.”
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