Page 35 of Stay Toxic

Barf.

No, not barf. God, there’s something seriously wrong with me.

"Gosh, no," she laughs, not elaborating. "You want me to put your hair up? It'll look nice with that back."

“Oh, yes please," I say, not questioning her skill, given the amazing things she did to my skin with a makeup brush tonight, and back at the ballet.

Ari’s clearly learned a fair deal from her mother.

I don't tend to do much with my mess of blonde waves, either tying it in a bun half the time, or just leaving it down.

Her fingers are soft on my skull as she runs them through the length of curls. She knows better than to try to brush through it. "All right, I know what to do!"

As she prepares an army of pins to bring her vision to life, I say, "Thank you, you know. For covering for me about the clothes.”

“Of course. You looked like you’d been caught with your hand in the cookie jar for some reason, so I figured shopping was a no-no.” She tilts her head. “Can I ask why? I mean it's not like it was tons of lingerie and dildos.”

I sigh, trying to find the words to explain Senator Cole without getting too much into the gory details.

The fact that I think of her as Senator Cole or Mother rather than Mom or however else other people refer to their parent says a lot.

“Mother’s a politician, and she likes to project a certain image. Said image extends to whatIdo.” I grimace.

“Ah. Yeah, I know a few people with that problem in town.”

From what I know of Thorn Falls, I’m not surprised. “Not you, huh?”

“Oh, I had a completely different set of problems. Mom’s not much of an authority figure, but I haveso manydaddy issues.”

“Wanna chat about it?” I offer eagerly, happy to chat about someone else’s issues for once.

“Nothing much to say. Mom got knocked up early, they tried to make a go of it and split up by the time I was three; likely because my little brother was born about four months after that and let’s just say he doesnotlook like Daddy.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,” she chuckles. “Vince is blond with blue eyes, like Mom. Dad’s Indian.”

Ben did tell me each of his siblings—except the twins—had different fathers, and thinking about it, it does make sense, just looking at the three I know: Ari’s golden coloring, Ben’s Italian looks, Lawrence’s boy-next-door, all-American appeal. It also explains her cousin the receptionist with the award-winning sneer.

Their mother must have amazing genes though, because there is a resemblance between the siblings despite the differences in coloring; the nose, the mouth, the shape of the eyes, and the endless lashes. I bet she’s a knockout.

“At least, it sounds like she fessed upbeforethe birth?” I glean.

“Oh yeah. I don’t think she cheated, anyway,” Ari says, and I suddenly think back to our first meeting, and I flush.

Two men, one in each end. I wonder what kind ofagreementshe has with Sebastian. And then I remind myself I don’t care. It’s their business and nothing to do with meat all.

Maybe sharing the love is a family thing.

“They still get along—always have from what I remember—so there’s no animosity there,” Ari says.

“They probably had an understanding?” I guess.

That’s the perfect opening to ask her aboutherdeal.

I clear my throat. “So why the daddy issues then?”

“Because he got married when I was ten, and had kids—a boy, then a girl. You know, hisreal family,actually living with him and shit?” She grimaces. “I don’t see him much these days. There. How do you like this?”