Page 3 of My Sister is Going to Kill Me

Liv swallowed her frustration and stepped into her sister’s embrace.

The man thrust the tray toward them. “Congratulations, ladies. These are on the house.”

“What?” Liv was confused. “You don’t have to—”

Mandy squeezed her shoulder once, hard, and beamed back at the man, waggling her left hand in the air. Something sparkled in the artificial light. “Thank you so much. She just asked me this morning, can you believe it?”

“You couldn’t have picked a more magical place on the planet,” the young man said. He glanced down at the ring, a spray of pimples across his forehead flashing pink. “And, uh, I support you.”

Mandy had the courtesy to wait until he left before she dissolved into giggles.

Liv rubbed her temple. “Incest? That’s messy even for you.”

“Just trying to get into the vacation spirit.” Mandy popped the ring off her finger and handed it to Liv. It wasn’t even a good fake. Cheap, dinged up, a back-of-the-flea-market find. The band had already started turning her sister’s finger green.

“It’s great for getting men to leave you alone. Or for scoring free drinks with a cutie. A twofer.” Mandy slid the ring back on and handed Liv a glass, raising hers to clink.

“To forever.”

“Forever.” The lager was crisp and bright, and Liv tried to ignore that a lie had delivered it. Her sister wasn’t going to change. No matter how many times Liv asked her, challenged her, or argued with her about the truth, it just wasn’t in her nature. When Liv had been trained in polygraph analysis, she’d learned dozens of ways jokers try to beat the test. Deodorant on the fingertips. Thumbtack in the shoe. Mandy used the only technique that actually worked: She lied constantly. She had a full-time, twenty-four seven commitment to making shit up. No lie too small. No story too implausible. She got it from their father. As much as Liv rationalized it, as much as she tried to accept her sister for who she was, Mandy’s lies still made her flinch.

She took another long pull of her beer, letting it wash away her discomfort. She could do this. Every year, their trip started bumpy. Every year, they had to relearn how to live together. It always worked out. Mostly.

“You missed orientation,” Liv said.

“You can brief me,” Mandy said. “You’re good at that.”

Liv pointed out Charlie and Devon, the middle-aged siblings, who were deep in an argument by the bar. Imogen and Lucinda were trying on hats and rafting gloves in the gift shop. PK and Fiona were nowhere to be seen. She clocked the last of their group near the door, where Thor was still chatting with Stefan, the bearded Dutchman.

Mandy gave an appreciative nod. “Single?”

“I didn’t think to ask about their relationship status.”

“Dibs on blond Tarzan,” Mandy said. “You can have the professor.”

“Thor’s a guide,” Liv said. “There are probably rules against them hooking up with guests.”

Mandy grinned. “I look forward to bending them.”

Liv forced a smile onto her face and told herself not to grimace. She could do this. They could do this. One week of sister time, a chance to shake off the cobwebs from Bucharest, and then Liv would head south to her future helping take down illegal smuggling operations.

She ran a finger over Mandy’s ring, letting its sharp edges poke into her skin.

“Maybe you should take that off before you meet everyone in the morning. Wouldn’t want Thor to get the wrong idea.”

“Some guys are into it.” Mandy drained her glass and pocketed the ring. “If you won’t be my fiancée . . . how about circus performers?”

“I’m not flexible enough for that.”

“Cattle ropers?”

Liv glanced over at Thor and Stefan. “They might ask for a demonstration.”

“How about you be the stick-in-the-mud foreign service officer, and I’ll be the jet-setting woman of mystery you’ve been pursuing?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a jet-setting high school art teacher.”

“I’m one of a kind.”