My Dear Friend Janet (Southern Belle Insults, #1)

by Keke Palmer

“I just don’t know what’s happened to me. I’ve become too timid, too scared, too ashamed to do all of the things I dream of doing. I’ve gotten so comfortable with letting people push me around, and now I don’t know how to change it. How am I supposed to get what’s inside me OUT? I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to be happy until I do. I’m afraid to believe that this is just who I am and all I’m ever going to be.”

They say diamonds are a girl’s best friend and it’s TRUE; I have the divorces to prove it. But a wig is a girl’s mask. It’s the one thing that can turn her into someone new almost instantly, or bring something out of her that she had no idea she had.

The air smelled like roses and lavender. The furniture seemed to whisper old yet glamorous tales of all the lives that had passed through. With every step, Janet walked past huge mirrors that shimmered like galaxies and wallpaper with swirled vines that blossomed into roses right before her eyes. Did I mention the lighting in there was so lovely it even made Janet look average, which was a step above her usual.

Had she never heard of SASHA FIERCE? A wig can do wonders.

This was some years back before all their Botox and lip fillers, but I digress.

“Rahdswee, you tall drink of sweet tea,” I said.

They handed me a folded item of velvet and lace. Of course, my fan! I snapped it open with a flick of my wrist—Janet could never have such grace—and flitted it in front of my face.