However, I had gone with red to symbolize the fire inside of me. The burning that was turning parts of my life to ash, aiding in my metamorphosis.
My sister was in green to represent who she was: a creature like the snake in Rattler’s barn, its fangs out, constantly teasing me with its deathly poison.
However, the difference between my sister and the snake?
She was supposed to have a brain, a heart, a soul. She should have known better.
Her golden hair was pulled to the side. The snake jewelry she had designed, that I had created at my grandfather’s order, was wrapped around her throat, her arms. The eyes were made from emeralds. Her heels were gold.
She was such a beautiful woman.
Too bad her personality repelled me.
Perhaps that night, our chosen designs were indicative of who we were—I was a butterfly, constantly trying to better myself. My sister was cold blooded, and if a foot accidentally, or not, stepped on her, she would strike and kill.
“You look ridiculous,” she said to me as she passed with a glass of bubbly champagne. She parked herculoat the bar, a group of men surrounding her.
I rolled my eyes a second too late.
Remo’s bourbon scented breath washed over my shoulder. “She is jealous of you,” he said.
I looked at him. He was staring at her, then his eyes met mine. “Trust me,” he said. “I know these things.”
“I am sure you do.” I grinned.
He grinned back, then his eyes became serious. “Your husband was right when he told you that she is a woman who does not take much effort to obtain. She is, ah, the moment.”
“She is easy,” I said. “It is okay. You can say it.”
His head tilted back, and he roared with laughter. “Sì,” he said, sighing. “You are different, Sistine. If your sister is the moment, you are the woman for always.”
Our eyes connected, and I turned away from him before he could think much of it. He had grown harder and softer at the same time since that day. Harder to the world. Softer when it came to me. I did not want him to think there was anything between us. I did not feel that way about him.
“I am hungry,cousin,” I said, taking the conversation in an entirely new direction.
“I am not your cousin.” He nodded toward the food, and we went in that direction.
He rarely left me alone. I knew it was only going to get worse since Iggy appeared with his declarations of love.
Remo and I ate together. I was starved. As if I had not eaten in days.
I laughed at how some of the people were dancing, although I disguised it well, asking him to name some of the moves. Remo grinned, throwing back his bourbon, playing along.
“Tell me,” he sighed, “what is that move called.” He chucked his chin in a direction, but he did it so smoothy, no one could ever tell he was referencing a couple on the dance floor, moving like…
“Chickens. The funky chicken.” I copied it, flapping my arms.
He set his glass down quickly and roared with laughter.
We both laughed.
“I will get you a drink as well.” He was about to grab me a glass of champagne.
“No,” I said, catching him with the one word before he moved. “I am good.Grazie.”
He studied my face. “You are glowing.”
I smiled. “New makeup.”
