even if it were, it wouldn’t matter. He’s a member of the bar. Ethics are important.”
“Luke, you’re not kids anymore. If he’s late to work, treat him like you would treat anyone else,” Tiffany said.
“I do, and he’s mad at me for it.”
Her eyes trailed to where I sat on the couch, back to her husband. “I know what you would tell me about that.”
“I’m sorry, anjel. ”
“Don’t be. You’d be right.”
So I was the poster child for the irresponsible younger sibling. Of course.
“Oh, Luke?” she said.
“Yeah?”
“I’ll be late today. Don’t treat me like you would treat anyone else.”
“You’re in accounting. That’s not my problem.”
I shook my head. “You work for Luke now? What happened to your job?”
She laughed. “Luke felt that I was overworked and underpaid, and that it was cheaper for his firm to hire me than to contract out to accounting firms. So I’m running the accounting department now.”
“The accounting department as in you?”
“No, I hired people.”
“Wow.”
She shrugged. “It worked out. I can take Lucí to work this way if I need to, and when she gets bad, I leave her with her dad.”
My perfect big sister would have worked out the perfect situation.
“I have to get to work. Someone should be on time,” Luke said. He kissed Tiffany the same way he did in Cancun. It made me sick. They’d been married for years. This was not the way married life in the real world went. Or maybe it just wasn’t the way married life in my world went.
I stood to go to the kitchen, and about the same time, they decided to come up for air.
“Oh my God!” Luke groaned. “Tiffany.”
“Kammy, get dressed now!”
I looked down to see what her problem with my attire was now and realized I was sporting a sequin thong. I ran to the arm chair, grabbed my skirt and pulled it over me. “I’m sorry! I forgot I was letting it dry.”
“I’m leaving. You take care of this,” Luke said to my sister.
As soon as he was out the door, Tiffany said, “Sit down. We need to talk.” She sat down in the armchair next to the couch.
“What?” I asked as I returned to my place on the couch.
“Why did Mom kick you out?”
“For being out too late.”
She nodded. “Because you were at a bar.”
“No, because I was doing some modeling for Nigel for a thousand dollars.”
“Why would Mom have kicked you out for that?”
I pursed my lips. “I have— had a curfew.”
“As ridiculous as that is, I can almost understand.” She wasn’t even looking at me. “Are you working at the moment?”
“No.”
“I suggest you get a job, because you have two weeks to get out.”
“How am I supposed to get a job and come up with rent money in two weeks?”
She shrugged. “You’ve been living at home. You should have savings.”
“I’m paying Emmett’s debt.”
“Why?”
I sighed. “Because it’s in my name.” I didn’t mention it was to a very big, very mean, very violent drug dealer.
“That’s not my problem. Don’t walk around the house naked. And, Kammy, I’m not going to say anything to anyone else, but Enrique is a nice guy. Don’t hurt him. He doesn’t deserve it, and it would just complicate things for me.”
“And you’ve been so nice.”
“You’re right. I should be nicer. I’m sorry.” Her face softened.
I was surprised by how easily she agreed to this. True, she hadn’t been nice, but I kind of knew I didn’t deserve it either. But my sister had always been a sweetheart. It was the best thing about her until she met her husband.
I bit my lip as I searched for the right way to say this. “I liked you better before you met him,” I said as non-confrontationally as possible, but I thought she should know she was changing.
“That’s because I never asked you to take responsibility for anything you said or did before I met him. Ever. I’m
Elizabeth Basque, J. R. Rain