by Tabatha Kiss
Table of Contents
Epilogue
2 in the PINK
Author’s Note
Phoebe
Max
Thad
More from Belle Academy
Ruin Me
Piper
Kai
Also by Tabatha Kiss
About the Author
2 in the PINK
Tabatha Kiss
Contents
2 in the PINK
Author’s Note
1. Phoebe
2. Max
3. Thad
4. Phoebe
5. Max
6. Phoebe
7. Thad
8. Phoebe
9. Phoebe
10. Max
11. Phoebe
12. Max
13. Phoebe
14. Thad
15. Phoebe
16. Thad
17. Max
18. Max
19. Phoebe
20. Phoebe
21. Thad
22. Phoebe
23. Thad
24. Max
25. Phoebe
26. Phoebe
27. Thad
28. Phoebe
29. Max
30. Thad
31. Phoebe
32. Phoebe
33. Max
34. Phoebe
35. Thad
36. Phoebe
Epilogue
More from Belle Academy
Ruin Me
Ruin Me
1. Piper
2. Kai
3. Piper
4. Kai
Also by Tabatha Kiss
About the Author
Copyright © 2017 by Tabatha Kiss
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This novel contains explicit descriptions of erotic and sexual acts that some may find offensive, including perverse adult language.
All characters are 18+ years of age and all sexual acts are consensual.
Reader discretion advised.
tabathakiss.com
To sign up for exclusive updates on
upcoming novels, giveaways, and more, click here:
tabathakiss.com/newsletter
2 in the PINK
By Tabatha Kiss
My name is Phoebe Pink and I have a problem.
It all began at my high school reunion.
I looked across the gym and there they were.
Max Monahan and Thad Hemsley.
The dynamic duo of Belle Academy.
When they walked up to me and flashed a few smiles, I didn’t know what to think.
They never looked twice at me before. Why would they? I wasn’t exactly one of the pretty girls back then.
The next thing I knew, they took me back to their place and my panties were on the floor.
I thought it was just one night, but…
They still want me. Both of them.
They have no idea about each other but the truth will come out eventually.
They’re best friends. I should do the right thing and choose one.
Then, I think… f*ck it.
They can share. That’s what friends do.
What could possibly go wrong?
Author’s Note
Last year, after the surprise success of Muffin Top, the most common email I received from readers begged me for more big, beautiful heroines.
You adored Evey Ryan. You connected with her confidence, admired her sass, and above all, you swooned hard over how much her hero loved her for exactly who she was. You asked me for more of these stories.
Well, your wish is my command.
If you’re not into the idea of a curvy, confident woman taking what she wants from two gorgeous alpha men as they fall madly in love with her, you’re more than welcome to close this book now.
But if you’re absolutely tingling with excitement, read on. I hope you enjoy the story of Phoebe, Max, and Thad as much as I enjoyed bringing them to life.
xoxo
Tabatha
One
Phoebe
I let my eyes roll into the back of my skull. It’s not like my boss can hear it over the speakerphone.
“Yes, Mr. Fellows,” I say. “I get it. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Well, Bradley thinks it’s a wonderful idea.”
Crap.
I clear my throat. “And I — in no way — wish to discourage your very talented son-in-law. I’m just saying that the young adult dystopian trope has run its course and the company would see more long-term benefits investing in a more original idea.”
“We should strike while the iron is hot, Phoebe.”
My office door opens a crack and my assistant sticks her head inside. I give her a wave, quickly laying a finger to my lips to keep her quiet as she sneaks into the chair in front of my desk.
“That’s what I’m saying, sir,” I continue. “The iron is luke-warm. It’s practically cold.”
He sighs. “Did you read the first few chapters?”
I eye the manuscript on my desk. “Yes, I read them.”
“And the treatment for the rest of the series?”
“Yes.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
I wince. “There’s no problem, per se…”
“It has everything,” he argues.
“Yeah, that’s kind of the problem,” I say. “A teenage boy falls back in time to Ancient Rome.”
“Right.”
“In order to fight on behalf of his little brother in youth gladiator battles...”
“So?”
I squint. “Book two has vampires.”
“It’ll be a hit!”
My head falls back. “Actually, you know what, Mr. Fellows, maybe it just hasn’t clicked with me yet. How about I read over it all again this weekend and we talk about it on Monday?”
“I knew you’d come around, Phoebe,” he says. “Keep up the team player attitude and that New York promotion just might be yours after all.”
I smile through my gritted teeth. “I hope so, sir.”
“Oh, speaking of…” He pauses. “That assistant of yours isn’t listening in, is she?”
I glance over at Jackie. She grins silently and sits a little taller in her chair.
“No, sir,” I answer. “Jackie is out to lunch.”
“Good. I’ll be in LA late next week. Pencil in a lunch with me off-the-books. My lawyer is still advising me to stay away from her.”
Her smile widens as she twirls a lock of her black hair around her red fingernails.
I pick up my pen and jot down Lunch with Martin on my desk calendar. “You know I’m always up for a cheeseburger with you, sir. Just name a time and I’ll meet you there.”
“Excellent — and make sure you read that treatment again,” he adds. “I really think there’s something there.”
“I can’t wait to dive right back in,” I say, forcing enthusiasm.
“I’ll see you then, Phoebe.”
“Bye, Mr. Fellows.”
I end the call and drop my head, letting out a quiet, painful groan from the pit of my stomach.
Jackie hums to herself. “So, Marty’s coming back to town—”
I point a finger at her. “No.”
She shivers with delight. “Somebody’s frustrated.”
I raise my head again. “Bradley wrote a book series.”
“The vampire-gladiator-love triangle thing?”
“Yeah.”
She scof
fs. “No wonder it sucks.”
“That’s what I said — in much nicer terms. He wants us to print it and nothing I say is convincing him otherwise. I mean, this is Fortnight Press. Not… Stroke My Son-in-Law’s Fragile Ego Press. I don’t want my name on something as stupid as this book series…”
“Oh, come on, Pheebs…” Jackie throws a reluctant fist into the air. “Be a team player,” she deadpans.
“I hate nepotism,” I say. “I swear to God, if little Bradley Dumbfuck gets this promotion over me because he’s banging the boss’ daughter—”
“You’ll smile and nod politely without causing much fuss?”
I exhale all the air from my lungs. “Yeah, probably that.” I reach for my empty coffee mug and slide out of my chair. “I must refuel.”
Jackie stands up with me and we pause in the doorway as the mail cart rolls by.
“Package for you, Jackie,” the carrier says, handing off a small box.
Her lips curl. “That’s Ms. Bone to you, baby,” she says, eying him from head-to-toe.
His youthful face blushes and he pushes the cart away a little faster.
I stare at her. “Hey, Jackie...”
Her eyes stay locked on his rear. “Yes?”
“How’s that sexual harassment in the workplace presentation coming along?”
She drops her smile. “You were serious about that?”
I roll my eyes. “Any new messages?”
Jackie drops the box on her desk and we head toward the break room across the land of cubicles. Several employees make an effort to look up and nod at me as we pass by. Some genuine. Some kissing my ass. All rightly earned by yours truly.
She pulls out her phone and clears her throat. “Your mother called again.”
I twitch. “What’d she want?”
“Oh, just your weekly reminder to call her so she knows you’re not dead and also did you get it? Did you get it? Did you get it?”
I chuckle. “Tell her I’ll call her back tonight and no, I didn’t get the promotion yet.”
“Already did.”
“Anything else?”
I reach the coffee maker and let out a happy sigh that it’s not dry and empty.
She swipes her thumb upward. “You got an email from a Sally Sweet.”
I fill my mug to the top. “Delete.”
“What’s Belle Academy?” she asks, her eyes skimming the screen.
“It’s my high school. Sally was the Class President.”
Her face screws up. “You went to a private school?”
“Yeah.”
“Da-aaamn, girl,” she scrolls a little more, “this place looks fancy as fuck. How loaded is your family?”
“We’re not,” I answer, taking a sip. “I was a voucher kid — and everyone knew it. Had a target on my back for four years. When do you think I gained all this weight?”
“She wants to know if you’re coming to the reunion tomorrow night.”
“I figured. Delete,” I repeat.
Jackie follows me onto the main floor. “You’re not going?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I twist to glance at her as we walk. “Did you miss the part about me having a target on my back for four years? These people were not kind to me, Jackie. The last thing I ever want to do is voluntarily stand in the same room with them again and listen to how they all left home after graduation, went to any university they wanted on their parents’ dime, and ruled the world while I’m still stuck here like an idiot.”
Jackie scoffs and steps in front of me to block my path. “Okay, first of all, you’re from Los Angeles, California not Clover, Kansas. Playing the I never left home, oh, woe is me card just makes you look like an asshole. Second, you went to an elite private school for free and I really don’t think I have to even explain to you why whining about that is annoying. Third, give me your coffee.”
I hand it over without thinking and she sets it down on the nearest desk. “I just don’t think I should—”
Her palm collides with my cheek with one fast slap. Several gasps echo through the employees as they all stop what they’re doing and stare at us with wide eyes.
“Jackie?!” I cup my face and feel the warm tingle rise to the edge of my skin. “What the hell?”
“Are you a boss-ass bitch?” she asks, straight-faced.
“A what?”
“Are you a boss-ass bitch?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. That really hurt—”
“Because the Phoebe Pink that I know is a boss-ass bitch who doesn’t take shit from nobody — especially not a bunch of entitled, private school pricks who never had to work for anything before in their entire lives. The Phoebe Pink that I know is going to walk into that reunion with her head held high and her big boobs sticking out and she’s going to take names because she is a boss-ass bitch.”
The pain drifts from my cheek and I slowly lower my guard. “Yeah,” I say, nodding. “You’re right. I’m Phoebe Pink.”
“Damn right you are.”
I gesture at the cubicles. “I run this whole branch.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I started on the ground floor!”
“Yes, you did.”
“Now, I’m the boss-ass bitch.”
She points a finger. “And you’re going to get laid tomorrow night.”
“Oh, no.” I lean back. “No, I can’t do that.”
“Phoebe…” Her face turns down. “Do I need to hit you again?”
I retrieve my coffee and gesture to the others to get back to work as I make way toward my office again. “Jackie, I am not sleeping with anybody from my graduating class. No way.”
“Why not?” she asks. “It’s the perfect catharsis. These people bullied and screwed you over for four years, the very least they can give back is fifteen minutes of deep dicking.”
“They’re going to take one look at me and they’re going to see the same big, fat loser they always saw. They’re probably all married with kids by now and I’m not that kind of girl, either.”
She chuckles. “I am.”
I pause outside of my office. “Yeah, I know you are. That’s why you’re officially barred from the corporate Christmas party this year.”
Her eyes wander. “That was a fun night.”
“By the way, last I heard, Mrs. Fellows cleaned him out.”
“Oh, yeah?” She smirks. “I should call him next week.”
“Please don’t.”
She waves a hand. “Eh, you’re right. It’s no fun unless they have money.”
I walk in and settle into my desk chair as she sits across from me again. “They used to call me Peepee Pinkeye.”
“And my class used to call me Jack-me Boner.” She raises her hands, presenting herself. “I’m still cool.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Yes, we are,” she corrects.
“Yes, you are.”
She rolls her eyes and holds up the phone. “So, what do you want me to tell Sally Sweet here? Other than to swing by the titty bar to pick up her check.”
I stare at the phone in her hand, her thumbs poised and ready above the screen.
Belle Academy. The land of opportunity, networking, and bad memories.
I shouldn’t go. The probability of this going well for me at all is slim. It’s just asking for pain and reopening old wounds is the kind of thing I don’t do anymore. I don’t live in the past. It took me years to leave that girl behind and become who I am now.
I’m a boss-ass bitch.
My cheek tingles from Jackie’s strike. As usual, she’s right. These people will always remember me as one thing… unless I pull up my big girl panties and change their minds. A boss-ass bitch doesn’t run away from an opportunity. She seizes it with her bare claws.
I sigh. “Tell her I’ll be there.”
She grins and starts typing it out. “It says you can bring a plus-one. Can I tag along?”
�
��Jackie, you do not want to go to this thing. Trust me. It’ll be nothing but a bunch of rich people standing around in six-thousand dollar suits and fancy cocktail dresses, drinking expensive champagne, talking about how perfect they are…” I pause, glancing into her wide-open, excited eyes. “Who am I kidding? Yeah. You can come.”
“Yes!” She gives herself a celebratory fist pump before finishing the message. “And send,” she says. “Oh, click here to see our class portraits—”
“Don’t click that,” I spit.
Her jaw drops. “Aww!” She coos as she turns the screen in my direction. “Look at you!”
My eyes fall to my old senior photo and I dart them away just as fast. “Please get rid of that.”
“You were so cute.”
“Stop it.”
“No, really.” She stares at it. “I mean… okay, yeah, your hair is a little…”
“I needed medicated shampoo,” I say quickly.
“And your skin is kind of…”
“It cleared up eventually.”
“But it’s the braces that tie the look together.” She nods. “They really bring out the pain and self-loathing in your eyes.”
I exhale in defeat. “Let me see it.”
Jackie extends her phone out and I lean forward to take it from her. I look at the photo and a damned stranger stares back at me, smiling with stiff, chapped lips.
Fuzzy, brown hair. Pale, pockmarked skin. Sloppy makeup and a wrinkled, sea-green blouse.
Who the hell is this girl?
A partial reflection lingers on the screen. Red, perfectly-styled hair. A bright, clean complexion. Cheeks are still puffy and chubby but that doesn’t bother me nearly as much now as it did back then. I grew up. I learned to love myself. I’m happy.
For the most part, anyway.
I scroll up with my thumb, scanning quickly through the familiar faces of my old classmates. Belle Academy was a small place, very hands-on in just about everything, and that meant small class sizes. There were twenty-five in my graduating class. Everyone knew each other’s names. Everyone’s parents hung out together in prestigious country clubs down the street from school. Except mine, obviously.