All I can see in front of me is the white wall the car is parked behind.
Bradley presses the ignition button, which unlocks the doors. I have the urge to reach across one of the twins to open the door and throw myself onto the street. “I guess we’re here,” I tell them.
Neither of them moves as they continue conversing on their phones, probably with each other. We can all talk inside, maybe ...?
Twinsess A finally opens her door, and I slide across the seat to step out, finding a terracotta siding on each side of the car. Maybe Bradley is dropping me off at a fixed-up type of prison. I’m sure it’ll be an improvement from my apartment in Hartford.
Bradley tends to the trunk and begins unloading the luggage. I’m even more thankful now that I had most of my stuff shipped. I’m assuming the twins did too because I’m the only one with two bags. They both have one. Theirs are Louis Vuitton, while mine are both a TJ Maxx special. Maybe this is my Cinderella story without the handsome prince.
“Just over here, guys.” In silence, we follow Bradley and Katarina around the corner. The white-washed sidewalk becomes an area of light peach stone pavers, forming a large enclosed circular space, lined with palm trees, beds of small white rocks, garden lights, and other botanical plants.
The houses are like row houses, but in a half circle, each one designed differently—each one a different pastel color. There must be a ten to twelve interconnected villa-like houses, and toward the back, there are arches in between two of the sections, leading out to a golden-sand beach.
This place isn’t an alley, a dumpster, or a prison. This place is like winning the lottery.
“You helped build this place?” I question Bradley.
“Usually that’s what happens when you receive a degree in architecture,” he drawls. Plus, with his financial investment expertise, Bradley is set for life. Jerk.
This lifestyle is what Katarina is after. It must be. That’s why she’s made him have fake hair and wear fancy clothes.
I don’t like her or her bat twin sisters.
Bradley passes the keys over to me. I cup my hand around the cold metal. “Which one is ours?”
“The white one in the back.” The only white house among the sea of beach-colored siding.
“I can’t thank you enough, Bradley.” I reach over and give him a big squeeze. “You’re the best brother.”
Katarina clears her throat. “Why don’t we go look inside. Bradley and I have completely cleared the space out, so you don’t have to worry about our things getting in the way. We left the furniture and some other necessities to get you started, but I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”
“When did you two move out?” I ask.
“Last week,” she answers with monotony. “Well, Bradley moved out last week. We’ve been staying at a hotel for the last few days while we prepare for the move.” She smirks a snooty smirk, one I don’t like. Why does it have to be her? Back before I felt like I was in a rush to surpass Bradley in life, I had these dreams of what a future sister-in-law might be like, and it wasn’t an extravagant dream—maybe just someone like Gracie, minus the hourly Broadway productions. I was hoping for someone I could call a sister, someone who would want to be my sister. We’d all live happily ever after as one big family, but I’m sure this won’t be the case with Katarina.
“Well, at least you get to be near your family now, right?” I ask Katarina, trying to make conversation. Of course, her sisters are moving here, but if Bradley is going to be working for her father, they must be close, one would assume.
“Sure,” she says.
I hate to think the three of them are always like this. I mean, we’re going to be family soon, and I get the sense that no one wants to be here or around me.
Bradley places his arm around my neck and presses the side of his head to my temple and whispers, “They’re just shy. Give it a few, okay?”
A few what? Months?
We approach the front door of an upscale French-looking royal-blue door with a bronze knocker and a bronze plate that reads “Welcome.”
I unlock the door with the key Bradley gave me and walk inside to an inviting interior, decorated with luxury hotel style finishes. “It’s beautiful,” I tell him.
“It’s okay,” he says. “It needs some small updates that we haven’t gotten to yet, but it’s good enough.”
I want to remind Bradley that we grew up in a three-bedroom ranch-style house with one-and-a-half bathrooms, a small living area, a galley kitchen, and a tight-spaced dining room. This place looks like a palace in comparison, but we were always happy growing up in our small house and never thought to ask for luxurious upgrades like this. Maybe Bradley wasn’t as complacent as I was. Perhaps he’s just turned into someone else.
Her.
“You have a view of the ocean out back and a porch. It’s not screened in yet, though.” Yet? Any type of porch is just fine. “I left the address and landline phone number on the fridge, but do you want me to tell you a little more about this place? The neighbors?” he asked.
I find myself glancing around the room, surveying everyone else’s facial expressions. Of course, I don’t think they are capable of such a bodily function such as moving a muscle on their faces, but I figured I’d at least look.
