“You look like a witch!” my sister bellows, flinging a hand toward my hair. “What were youthinking?”
I touch my once-blond curls, now a rich espresso. Until today, I had virgin hair. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking, I guess.”
“That’s the very essence of your problem, Piper. Youneverthink.”
“I just…I needed a change.”
“Achange?” she repeats, exasperated.
“Yeah. And I don’t understand why you care.”
“Because I’m in charge!” She takes a slug from the glass of wine she poured upon seeing my hair. She indulges when she’s had a rough day or when I’ve done something to piss her off, though she never allows herself more than two glasses. She’s a machine that way.
We’re in the kitchen, where she ambushed me when I walked through the door.You’re late. Your bathroom’s not clean. You didn’t drop the mail in the box.What in theworlddid you do to your hair?And now: “You’re supposed to consult me before making big life decisions.”
“Give me a break. It’s hair dye. I didn’t sign up to colonize Mars.”
“How much did it cost?”
“For the color and a trim? Like, a hundred and fifty. You know, before tip.”
She expels a breath that lifts her bangs—blond bangs. She’s fifteen years older than me, which puts her at thirty-two. She looks twenty-five. She acts eighty-nine. She thinks she’s God’s gift to guardianship. “I hope you’re kidding.”
“I used my first paycheck.”
“Excellent. Money well spent.” Another swig of wine. “Your poor, poor savings account. I swear, Piper, do you ever consider consequences?”
I appraise my hair in the microwave’s reflective door, then shrug. “I like it.”
“Good, ’cause you’re not spending more money to fix it. Live with it until it grows out.”
“Fine.” With false brightness, I ask, “How was your day?”
She groans. “Awful. The residents of this complex are killing me slowly. And now…” She points at my head, shaking hers. “Now this.”
“You know, you could practice some decorum. Try this:Piper, your hair looks nice.”
“It doesn’t.”
Only Tati can make my blood pressure skyrocket this way.God, she’s the worst. “What have the residents done now?”
“Whathaven’tthey done? Leaky toilets, late rent, dog shit in the courtyard. This is a luxury apartment complex, yet the people who live here act like barbarians.” She gives me a sinister look. “You more than any other.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re a constant headache.”
I flash her my most saccharine smile. “The feeling’s mutual.”
I take a can of seltzer from the fridge, then turn for the hallway leading to my room. Before rounding the corner, I glance over my shoulder. Tati stands with her back to me, palms flat on the counter, head bent. She looks downtrodden. Managing Sugar Bay Luxury Towers isn’t exactly her dream job, and the demands and complaints and excuses of the people who live here wear on her.
Still, she infuriates me with her constant criticism.
More than that, the snarky comments she made about my hair hurt my feelings. Which is why I can’t resist saying, “I met your washed-up frat bro this morning.”
She whirls around. Her cool blue eyes, same as mine, are intense. “What?”
“The guy you shacked up with last night? I ran into him this morning. In the kitchen.”
