CHAPTER 30
TAYLOR
Taylor smiled. “Thank you, Madison! What a welcome!” After a first-lady-style wave, she asked, “Are you ready for a new day?” She’d just been informed about the campaign’s new catch phrase.
“Okay, perfect! That was perfect!” The compliment came from Bianca, Taylor’s new speechwriter slash coach.
Taylor sighed with relief and relaxed against the sofa in her dressing room. She had flown from South Dakota to Madison, Wisconsin. Victor’s campaign staff had decided that she should hit the swing states while Victor sat for interviews.
“We’ll practice some more before you go out. Just remember to smile when you get out there,” Bianca reminded with a grin. “No resting-bitch face.”
Taylor frowned. “My resting face is sweet and kind.”
“My ass...” Bianca muttered under her breath while leaving the dressing room.
Before Taylor could shout at Bianca’s back, Samantha, her stylist, approached with a beige pantsuit. “How about this for Philly?”
Taylor dropped her head and sighed. She was tired of explaining her style to Samatha. She raised her head and leaned forward. “Samantha, look at me. Do I look like Hilary Clinton to you?”
Samantha’s eyes widened as if she were being scolded by her high school algebra teacher. Under any other circumstance, Taylor would have felt pity, but her stylist didn’t seem to get it. Instead of showcasing who she was, her stylist insisted on trying to change her.
“Okay. So, how about this?” She returned the pantsuit and held up a pair of black slacks and a black chiffon blouse with a pretty polka dot bow.
The outfit was stunning, which, of course, meant that she did know Taylor’s style and preferences. She didn’t agree with them, so she simply didn’t care.
Taylor raised a brow and gave her a knowing glare. Samatha smiled nervously and rolled the wardrobe rack away.
“Mrs. Creed, the Secret Service says that you have a visitor,” Maxwell, her new assistant announced.
Taylor looked up, unwilling to hide her befuddlement. “A visitor? This ain’t my house.”
After a chuckle, Maxwell nodded. “I’ll find out.”
Maxwell was a polisci major at the University of Chicago. He was super smart, extremely handsome, and reasonably ambitious. A bright future was surely his.
Not even a minute had passed when he returned. “Ma’am, they say it’s your sister.”
Taylor sat up and glared at Maxwell to see if he was being serious. “My sister?” Taylor asked to be sure. She hadn’t seen her sister since she’d stormed out of their penthouse behind her piece-of-shit fiancé.
“Nicole Montgomery? That’s your sister, right?”
“Yes,” Taylor whispered in a voice that was weaker than she’d intended. She suddenly felt things that she didn’t understand. “Send her in.”
NIYAH
“Naw, bitch!” Niyah held up the trinket for Naomi to see. “Areyoucrazy?” She hurled the bracelet at her sister, hitting her in the chest with it. “So, you out here killing motherfuckas?”
Naomi caught the bracelet before it hit the floor and dropped to the bed. She stared at the bracelet in her hand with tears in her eyes. “You found it?” Her voice was a broken whisper.
“Yes!” Niyah screamed, throwing her hands in the air.
“Keep your voice down,” Naomi growled, looking up at her with desperation.
Niyah’s mouth flew open. She hadn’t heard one denial from her sister’s mouth.
“Bitch!” she snapped. “You’re killing people?”
With tears falling from her pretty brown eyes, Noami whispered, “They weren’t people. They were monsters.”
