Free Bling Addiction by Kylie Adams Page A

height. “We’re on a first-name basis now. She wants me. But I’m holding out on the sex until just before she writes my letter of rec. I want her to still be panting from a Maxgasm for that assignment.”
    Christina laughed. “She’s married!”
    “Have you seen her husband?” Max asked. “He wears one of those yellow silicone LIVESTRONG bracelets. And he drives a hybrid. Major tool.”
    “You’re so wrong!” Christina yelled with amusement as Max took off. She was picking at what remained of her edamame when someone approached her.
    “Excuse me, I’m new here, and I obviously don’t get it. What’s up with everybody eating in the hall?”
    Christina looked up to see a short, edgy Asian girl. She was seriously punked out—hot pink hair, brow, nose, and tongue piercings, and raccoon-style eye makeup. In her flashy yellow Donna tank by Betsey Johnson, plaid mini, fishnet hose riddled with holes, rips, and runs, and military-style boots, she looked camera ready to lead an anti-anything revolution.
    “They’re using the cafeteria as an extra rehearsal space for a big show,” Christina explained. “It’s only temporary.” She smiled kindly.
    The girl took a ravenous bite out of her Greek stuffed grape leaf wrap. Some of the rice filling spilled onto the floor. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care because she just left it there. “Do you mind if I sit?” She gestured to the same spot Max had just vacated.
    Christina nodded. “Go ahead.”
    The girl crashed down. “So what are the kids like at this school? Do they suck, or are most of them okay?”
    Christina was taken aback by her aggression. “It varies, I guess.”
    With her slight frame, the girl looked too young to be in high school and too small for most of the rides at Disney World. “I just moved from San Francisco. I hope there are some hot dykes here.”
    Christina was speechless.
    “Chill out. I’m not hitting on you. If I was, you’d know it because I’d have my tongue down your throat.” She laughed a throaty laugh. “I’m Keiko. Keiko Nakamura.”
    “Christina Perez.” Beads of sweat prickled under her arms, her cheeks went hot, and she found herself struggling for breath. Something about the girl left Christina feeling vulnerable and exposed, as if Keiko had the power to take one good look at her and instantly discover her secret.
    “Perez,” Keiko repeated thoughtfully. “Are you related to that psycho bitch who’s running for senator?”
    “Guilty by birth,” Christina admitted.
    “For real?” Keiko demanded, not quite believing her.
    Christina nodded severely.
    “You know that you’re going to be in therapy for years and years, right?”
    “Oh, I think I’ll be institutionalized first,” Christina cracked.
    Keiko laughed again. She threw back her head and let the severe geometry of her choppy hairstyle fly this way and that. “So what’s her deal? Was your dad, like, a closet fag or something? Is that why she has a broomstick up her ass about gays?”
    “My father died in a car accident,” Christina snapped. “And he wasn’t gay.”
    “Sorry,” Keiko answered. “I didn’t mean anything.” But it was more of a scolding for Christina’s sharp reaction than an actual apology.
    A strained silence hung between them.
    Finally, Keiko broke it. “Your mom would freak if she knew what we did at my old school.”
    Christina looked at her with guarded interest.
    “You know how it’s usually against the rules to make out in school, but guys and girls do it anyway with no problem?”
    Christina nodded.
    “Well, one day I was kissing my girlfriend at her locker, and we got suspended for that. So we staged a kiss-off on the front lawn. Every queer and dyke in the school left their classes and marched out there to kiss. They put pictures in the newspaper and everything. We even got on television. It was awesome.”
    Christina just sat there, mesmerized, and more than a little envious. Keiko seemed to be