Free The BACHELORETTE Project (The Project: LESLEE Series) by Tami Anthony

“Hey, Russ, ” I say. “Long time, no see.”
    “Yeah, I know, ” he tells me looking at my things. “How much stuff do you actually have? I’m just wondering.”
    “Enough to open a designer boutique of my own. I don’t know.” I smirk. He begins to rummage through one of the trash bags. “Hey, get out of my stuff!” I yell as he pulls out a purple, silk handbag. He laughs.
    “Herpes, ” he laugh s. “This bag really says herpes on it.”
    I grab the bag from him and hit him on the shoulder. “It’s an Hermès bag, not herpes, you moron, ” I say to him. “Just put my stuff in the truck, OK?”
    “How much did you pay for the herpes bag?” he asks.
    “It’s really none of your business,” I say, “but if you must know, this is a fifteen-thousand dollar bag.”
    “Whoa!” he says shockingly. “For that much money, you could not only open your stupid store, but you could also clothe all of North Philly…maybe even South Philly, too...”
    “Very, very funny, Russ, ” I say sarcastically. Russ and I have a sibling relationship. Since Karen is like a sister of mine , Russ is like a brother; the bratty little brother that snoops in your diary and gets in your personal business enough to make you go insane. Some days, like today, you just want to smack the little brother. He knows nothing about Hermès nor does he have any respect for the fashion world. Russ is just a six-foot-three overgrown child who thinks fashion consists of his ragged khaki shorts, a pair of overworn flip-flops, and an old blue t-shirt that says ‘Dew the Jew’ in a Mountain Dew soda design (FYI: Yes, this is what he’s wearing and yes, it is still February and twenty degrees outside … the whole wearing-shorts-in-the-winter thing that men do remains an enigma to me).
    We pack my things in the SUV and all jump in like one big eclectic family and begin the journey to their house. “You don’t even know how happy I am to h ave you come down here to visit, ” Karen says. “I have so many things to do like shop for a wedding dress, pick wedding colors, find a caterer …” Karen says and I’m exhausted just hearing her talk. Screw a wedding. If I can’t have my wedding, then no one should … marry that is. OK, I’ll admit that I am a little bitter, and maybe by some stroke of luck me and Victor will get back together, but who am I kidding? Any man that throws Burberry out the window doesn’t deserve a wife. They deserve to be castrated Lorena Bobbitt-style.
    “How come your future husband can’t help you?” I ask her. “You know, it’s his wedding, too.”
    “Because I like things to be done a certain way, that’s all, ” Karen responds.
    “That, and she becomes a complete psycho when it has anything to do with the wedding, ” Russ chimes in and Karen pouts.
    “That’s not true!” she insists.
    “It’s true, Leslee,” Russ says. “Don’t let her trap you into the wedding H ell that she’s created.”
    “It is not a wedding H ell!” she says.
    “Oh, OK, so then why did you put money down on three different places?” Russ asks and Karen rolls her eyes.
    “It’s because my mind may change,” she replies gritting her teeth. “When I decide on a place, I want to make sure it’s the best, and furthermore, all those deposits are refundable.”
    “OK, fine, Karen. I give up, ” Russ says accepting his defeat, but unfortunately for him, Karen’s not done with this conversation. It seems like they’ve had this “disagreement” before.
    “You’re just mad because your mother wants us to have our wedding at the temple and I’m not doing that. I know you and your family are Jewish, but I don’t need a reminder on our wedding day. I mean, I don’t see you running around wea ring a damn yamaka on your head, ” Karen says.
    “My mother was not trying to remind you that we are Jewish. She just wanted things to be traditional.”
    “OK,” Karen smirks. “Let’s be traditional then. How about