He accepted the collect call, like I knew he would.
“Havoc? What’s going on?”
“I’m in jail, brother. I fucked up. But this time, I swear to you, the bastard deserved it.”
Julia
Present Day
MY LITTLE SISTER, Laura, stood in the doorway of my bathroom, watching me darken my lashes and color my lips. With blonde hair and pale blue eyes, she looked like the female version of our father. But where he was serious and handsome, she was a jovial beauty with an easy smile and carefree nature that made people gravitate toward her. She pulled people in, and I did my best to repel them. As the recipient of Mom’s fiery red hair, intense green eyes, and savage resting bitch face, I couldn’t pull off beautiful or innocent. But strikingly terrifying… I had that shit down.
And because I was a contouring wizard, I could paint myself into something more approachable when the situation required it. Luckily, few situations did. Brushing my newest purchase—a shade of blush called ‘Party Girl’—on my cheek, I frowned. “Too pink.”
Laura nodded. “Scoot over and let me try it,” she said, joining me in front of the mirror.
I passed her the new blush, wiped the pink crap off, and went back to the earthier tone I normally wore. Laura being in my space felt comfortable now, but it hadn’t always been that way between us. In fact, I could pinpoint the exact moment she became more than the annoying baby sister who stole my clothes and makeup and narked to my parents when I ditched her at the mall. It happened about ten years ago in front of a different bathroom mirror.
I was preparing for my first day of college and Laura was about to head to her high school freshman orientation. She stood at my bathroom doorway watching me work then, too.
Nervous about being a little fish on a big campus where people didn’t automatically know and fear me and my family, I didn’t have the time or energy to deal with the brat, so I cut her an annoyed look and asked, “Can I help you?”
Normally so damn bubbly and sweet she gave me a freaking toothache, that day Laura looked somber and subdued. I’d never seen her like that, and it made me uncomfortable. She stepped into the bathroom, nodding. “I… I have a zit.” Turning her head to the side and brushing her hair back, she revealed the bright red blemish taking up the lower quarter of her cheek. “You’re really amazing at makeup. Will you please show me how to hide it?”
I considered her predicament for a solid ten seconds while my inner bitch reveled in her misery. After all the times she’d stolen my makeup, this felt like karma. And who was I to question karma? But, she was also my little sister, and therefore a reflection on me. I couldn’t let her begin high school sporting such a heinous imperfection. Pointing at the toilet, I said, “Sit.”
A smile lit up her face as she skittered over to the toilet, sat, and looked up at me expectantly. I opened the top drawer of my bathroom vanity and started pulling out products. As I went to work evening out her skin tone and contouring away the swelling, I gave her a mini tutorial, explaining the purpose and use for each product.
When I finished, she stood in front of the mirror, sweeping back her hair. “I can’t even see it anymore. That’s… that’s incredible.” She met my gaze in the mirror, her eyes glistening. “Thank you, Julia. You’re like the best sister ever.”
I wasn’t, but her praise made me feel more warm and fuzzy than I’d ever admit.
“You’re not as bitchy as everyone says you are.”
By everyone, she meant our peers. The children of Seattle’s filthy rich and terrifyingly powerful (kind of like the Illuminati, but localized and more devious). They built, and they destroyed. I knew, because I was their star pupil, their protégé, their sword. Laura and our peers had no idea how bitchy I could be. I was learning to pull strings, play friends against each other, manipulate the results. I was learning to play the game, and I fucking loved it.
But I never let my little sister see that side of me.
And years later, when karma came knocking at my door, Laura was the one person who warned me to check the peep hole before I opened it.
I would do anything for my sister.
“Keep the blush. It looks better on you,” I said, smiling at her in the mirror.
She grinned, her dimples making her look fourteen again instead of twenty-four as she closed the compact and slipped it into her purse. “It really does. Thanks.”
But she was still a snarky little brat.
I straightened and took one last look in the mirror. “Let’s do this.”
Laura pushed off the counter. “I’m so beyond ready to be pampered. Wedding planning is stressful.”
Sure. Like Mom would actually allow Laura to plan anything. My sister was just another piece in our parents’ game. And now, with her nuptials less than a week away, we needed to hit the spa so we could look our best for the upcoming festivities. God forbid we attend a bridal shower or a bachelorette party with imperfect nails, faded highlights, or unsightly body hair.
Some things simply were not done.
Especially not if you were an Edwards. We’d spent our entire lives conforming to the image of perfection demanded by our family name and status, and although I’d turned out to be a huge disappointment, Laura was still going strong. I didn’t agree with her commitment to the cause, but I supported her and would do what I could to help.
“Have you decided on a plus-one for the wedding yet?” she asked, her tone light and conversational with a tiny hint of panic.
