2.25 The Bet (1)

Estel POV

“It’s pink,” Ada, my wolf, grumbled. When I pulled into the circle drive, we could see into the giant windows along the front of the once forgotten resort hotel.

It was atrocious. It looked like the inside of a pepto bismol bottle. It was painfully pink. Who the hell paints walls this color? Not even an accent wall, but all the walls, from floor to ceiling. And then the ceiling’s dirty glass skylights were reflecting the offensive pink back, the sunlight sneaking in giving the higher part of the wall the image of being scribbled over with a highlighter.

It sucked.

“And you have to act like you’re here to view the property to put it on the market,” Ada snickered. “No one wants to buy this shitty eyesore.”

She was right. Even if I was a real realtor, this would be a freakishly hard sell. The amount of work that went into painting the inside was such a waste. Graffiti would have looked better than this. Giant penises and boobs would have been less assaulting to my eyes.

“Well.