The Anchor Read Free Page B

pregnant with me he had to drop out. That was quickly followed by my grandparents pulling the plug on any support for him because he knocked up the town ‘floozy,’ as they called my mother. He never made it back to college after that. Two years after they had me, my sister was born. My parents didn’t even marry until years later. It was quite the scandal among the town’s elite.
    “My parents are doing just fine,” I point out, my tone hiding none of the disdain I have for his comment.
    “Yeah.” Paul nods in acknowledgement. “They live in a shithole and couldn’t even put their kids through college.” The latter is true. Our home isn’t a shithole though. Maybe it is by Paul’s standards. It’s a small three-bedroom rancher. Modest , and just enough room for our family. My father’s other brother, Uncle Winston, still trains horses out in the country, close to my parents, in the outskirts of my hometown of Knightdale. Unfortunately, Paul’s comment about college is spot-on. If it wasn’t for him and Winston’s insistence, neither I nor my little sister would’ve been able to get degrees without taking on huge student loans. His parents cut my father off, but not their bastard grandchildren. I hated taking their money after the way they treated him, but my father insisted. He wanted us to have an education no matter the cost . . . even his pride.
    “I’m careful, Paul. Now, can we drop this?”
    He shakes his head. “Don’t fuck up your future on some one-night stand, Parker. You’re smarter than that.” I know he’s speaking out of genuine concern but part of me wonders if those are his true feelings about my mother.
    Then he leaves me standing in the kitchen in my underwear. Did he just give me the safe sex talk? Jesus. That was awkward.
     

 

     
    “I don’t know if I like this color, Edie,” I pout as I gaze at myself in the full-length mirror in the back of Pearl’s shop. Pearl has been my dressmaker since I started pageants; I bring her a design and she makes it fit me perfectly.
    “The color looks great on you, Nikki,” Edie insists. “Besides, you’ve already spent a small fortune having this one made.”
    “I’m competing in the Miss North Carolina Pageant, Edie,” I point out, as if she didn’t already know that. “I have to win this to get to Miss USA. The expense is irrelevant.” Sliding my hand down the front, I realize the fabric is tight, even when I’m sucking in. “Pearl, I think you need to let it out a bit. It’s a little snug around the waist.”
    Pearl moves around me, eyeing the dress, and her brows furrow. “I made it twenty-three inches. Same as always.”
    “Are you sure?” I ask as I turn to look at my side profile.
    “Let me measure you again.” She pulls out her tape measure and wraps it around my waist as I hold my arms up to give her better access. Tilting her head, her glasses slide down the bridge of her nose as she stares at the number.
    “You’re a twenty-six,” she says, not making eye contact with me. She knows I’m going to freak out.
    “What?” I shriek. “That’s impossible. I’ve been on a thousand-calorie diet and worked out every day for the last two months.”
    “Have you weighed yourself?” Edie asks. “Maybe it’s just muscle weight you’ve gained.”
    “Unzip me,” I order Pearl, and she does so quickly. “Do you have a scale, Pearl?”
    “In the bathroom,” she mumbles. Holding the dress to my chest, I rush to the unisex bathroom in the back. When I reach the doorway, I gingerly step out of the dress and hand it to Edie. The fact I’m in nothing but heels and a thong right now doesn’t seem to faze her a bit. She’s been to enough of my pageants.
    “Even if you’ve put on a little weight, you still look amazing, so stop freaking out,” she warns as she delicately holds my gown.
    “Three inches, Edie,” I say, adamantly. “She took my measurements a month ago and I’m three inches bigger now.” I