Free Two Lies and a Spy by Kat Carlton

feedback. Sophie teases me about my cosmetic inabilities all the time. Sophie . . . why hasn’t she called me back yet?
    Lacey points to the vanity stool that’s pulled up to a gorgeous, antique dressing table in her room. The walls are papered with eighteenth-century French ladies in gowns, and the whole interior is done in white and gold with pink accents. Why am I not surprised?
    “Sit,” she says imperiously, like she’s the queen and I’m a peasant.
    “Why?”
    “I’m going to fix your eye makeup,” she explains with exaggerated patience.
    “Look, Lacey, I don’t want your eye shadow for my face,” I tell her. “I need it for something else.”
    She narrows her eyes. “Like what?”
    Like none of your bimbo business. “An . . . art project?”
    “Puh-lease.”
    Okay, she’s not quite as stupid as she looks. Whoknew?
    “Kari, I’m wondering just why you’re at my house. Probably to make cow eyes at my brother—don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re hot for him. But that doesn’t explain why you’d actually come up the stairs and talk to me, or why you’d try to borrow my makeup when you don’t want to learn how to use it like an actual woman might. So why don’t you tell me what’s going on, before I hit speed dial on my iPhone and call the adorable traffic cop who asked my boobs out on a date after he tore up my speeding ticket.” She smiles at me. “He’d probably love a promotion for bringing you in to the station.”
    Have I mentioned that I really hate Lacey Carson?
    “Then you wouldn’t get your two hundred bucks,” I retort.
    She loses her smile and drums her pink fingernails on the dresser. “Info for eye shadow,” she says.
    Her dad may pull into the driveway at any second. I have no choice, do I?

Chapter Eight
    Hearing voices below, Lacey steamrollers her way down the stairs and into her father’s study, with me trailing behind her. I’ve told her the bare minimum, but I had to tell her that. She opens her mouth to say something hateful to Rita—I can tell from the expression on her face—so I try to preempt her.
    “Evan, you know Lacey, right?” I say, as if we’re at a party or something.
    “Socially,” he says. “Not yet carnally.” His face is the picture of polite as this comes out of his mouth.
    I can’t help it; a pig snort escapes me before I can stop it.
    Lacey’s head swivels toward him as if it’s a machine gun mounted on a tank. “ What did you say?”
    He grins. “Wax in your ears, love? You heard me.”
    I have to choke back another pig snort. I may loatheEvan, but right now I’m silently cheering him. Anyone who takes on Lacey is okay by me.
    “In. Your. Dreams.” Her tone would freeze the sperm of a killer whale in the arctic, but that doesn’t stop her from running her gaze up and down his body. She’s clearly intrigued by him but won’t admit it. As the Hot Girl, she has to play hard to get.
    “Come now,” he croons to her. “You never think of me naked?”
    She doesn’t even bother to look at him. “I never think of you at all.”
    “Stop harassing my sister, man,” Luke tells him, but he’s repressing a smile.
    “Why? It’s fun,” Evan points out.
    “Why is this ho on my dad’s laptop?” Lacey demands, gesturing at Rita.
    “Easy, Lace!” Luke says.
    “Who are you calling ‘ho,’ slut?” Rita tosses back.
    “Hey,” Luke intercedes again. “Dial it down.”
    “Touching,” Evan muses, “that you two girls have such affection for one another.”
    “Luke!” Lacey snaps. “Why have you let all of these people into Dad’s office? He’d be really pissed.”
    “It’s complicated.” Luke looks at me, eyebrows raised.
    As I’m forced to explain to Lacey just why Rita is on Mr. Carson’s computer, Rita narrows her eyes on the belt Lacey is wearing.
    “Unbelievable,” Rita says. “You? You’re the one who stole my belt during gym?”
    Lacey tosses her hair. “What are you talking about? Do I