19
Brea
Fine, it’s fine, I assured myself as I took half the platter of smoked-salmon-and-cream cheese crostini that one of the servers offered. Mark and my fraternal twin sister were two awful self-absorbed people who deserved each other. It was fine!
“Sooo,” Liz said, snagging one of the crostini off of my plate. “What do you think of Memphis Eve?”
“Fine,” I said, carefully arranging the crostini in a circle on the square plate. “She’s fine. They seem very happy together.”
Yeah, I bet my sister was happy with Mark, what with the way she had her tentacles wrapped around him. If Mark was too stupid to see through her act, then he could crash and burn, and I would roast marshmallows and make s’mores over the carnage.
“You’re fine?” Liz coaxed. “Not a little jealous?”
“Why would I be jealous? She clearly diets for that body, and I refuse to on principle.” I sniffed. “Mark probably wants some bimbo he can show off to his friends and business associates, and Memphis Eve just wants some guy she can use for envy-inducing Instagram photos.”
Liz frowned. “Oh no! I didn’t even think about that! Sheisprobably just using him. Mark’s going to be heartbroken.”
“Welp,” I said. “Sounds like a personal problem.”
Liz sighed and rested her hands on her stomach. “It’s sort of not his fault. He’s had bad luck with love.”
“Join the club.”
“No, I mean really bad luck.” Liz looked at Wes and Mark, who were standing by the bar, talking to Memphis Eve. Then she took a deep breath. “Actually, it’s sort of my fault. I stole Wes’s company out from under him and his business partners, Rhonda and her brother. They then concocted this elaborate plot to steal the company back. Or at least Wes thought that was the plan. Rhonda was basically just out for revenge. She pretended to be in love with Mark, gained his trust, ingratiated herself with his family, then she set the Holbrook estate on fire. We had a big event there, and a bunch of people were injured. Wes almost died. He was in the hospital. Mark blames himself. But it wasn’t his fault! Rhonda lied to him and used him.” She picked at one of the cheese cubes on her plate. “Wes and I both feel bad, and we want to make it right.”
I took Liz’s hand. “That wasn’t your fault; you couldn’t have known.”
“It’s not Mark’s fault either,” Liz countered, “but he still feels responsible, because he was dating Rhonda. Wes feels guilty too, because he was part of the plot, though not the whole killing-his-family part obviously. Mark was shell-shocked and heartbroken after that incident. He threw himself into his work. He wouldn’t even come to family events. He just worked all the time. He built that company, but he just locked himself away in the process.”
“Poor Mark,” I said, feeling a flood of sympathy for him. My life was kind of a disaster, but none of the dates I had been on had led to my family almost being killed.
“We’ve been trying to coax him back into life. I was stoked when Wes said he had found Mark a date! Only I was hoping Mark would find a nice girl, not another manipulative bitch.”
Across the room, Memphis Eve trailed her nails along Mark’s jaw and made some sort of joke. He laughed.
“But,” Liz added, “maybe Memphis is nice. We really shouldn’t judge her just because she has an Instagram account. Mark does seem happy with her.”
Wes returned with Liz’s drink and smiled down at her.
I pushed up my sleeves and drained my wine glass. “Excuse me.” I waited until Mark was talking to an older man in a suit that looked like it needed to be taken out an inch, then I stalked up and grabbed my sister by the arm.
“Hey,” she hissed, “I’m working here.”
“Yeah, I bet you are,” I said in a low voice as I pulled her into a side hallway. “You need to stay away from Mark. Why don’t you go after some old guy who’s looking for wife number three?”
Memphis Eve tossed her glossy hair. I resisted the urge to pat my own frizzy bun.
“I’m not here looking for a husband,” my twin said.
“So what, you’re looking for a sugar daddy?”
“Of sorts.”
“You’re such a gold digger,” I said furiously.
“I’m not a gold digger, I make a lot of money being an Instagram influencer,” Memphis Eve snapped back.
“It’s not a real job,” I said defensively.
