Reagan Durant was bored. It was dangerous when Reagan got bored.
Reagan was twenty-two and everything was going for her. She lived with her sisters and roommates in this townhouse. She had worked out a major score of a deal with her sister, Audrey, who got a student rental discount on account of Reagan and her goofy twin Phoebe attending the same campus as the landlord had, who was an alumnus. Reagan had twisted the deal further to wiggle out of paying rent, saving her dollars for the important stuff.
It wasn’t tuition.
While Reagan kept up on tuition more or less every other penny of her college fun went to her own amusement. Reagan was too clever for her own good, always scheming. She also had a smoking hot body, a fine white girl booty and killer looks. If only she didn’t have the genetic clone of a twin sister.
Reagan knew she had everything going for her and took to finding every advantage in life. She was just brilliant enough to keep up that life of laziness. It helped that there were five of the girls in this townhouse. Plenty of others to drop off all the chores and shit Reagan didn’t want to do.
Sadly everyone who had lived with her this long were immune to the twin swap trick. Even if Phoebe had classes for acting Reagan easily considered herself the better actor, the amount of times she pretended to be her sister to get out of trouble or shift the blame. Nobody in the townhouse fell for it anymore, as they had picked up on the subtle cues that identified each twin, given their opposite personalities.
Still, leading Phoebe around was easy because she was such a sheep. Leave things alone long enough and either Audrey or Ixchel would handle it for her. On occasion Reagan had even swindled Uma Ferro to do something for her. That didn’t happen too often given that the black athlete, Audrey’s college roommate, was cut from the same cloth as Reagan when it came to shirking duty. The two had hit it off after that. Hell, Uma tended to be the only roommate Reagan could stand living with.
It was a typical Saturday morning at the townhouse. Reagan didn’t have any plans although there’s plenty should have been doing. Her acoustical engineering professor was riding her double fine ass (metaphorically speaking) on a major project but Reagan didn’t feel like sinking long hours at the campus on a Saturday.
It was getting kind of stuffy in the townhouse. Noisy too. Not the kind of noise Reagan liked. The drone was filled with Phoebe’s mindless television, Ixchel’s vapid K-Pop, the sounds of Uma’s workouts and Audrey’s continued frustrated ranting. Reagan didn’t want to stick around but she also didn’t want to get up that early on Saturdays to get out of the townhouse before all the monotony happened.
She needed something to do fast or the whole day was going to be super annoying.
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