Chapter 6

6

DES

M y sister Marla pushes into my apartment, her blonde tousled curls so like my own. Clinging to her body are bright pink jeans and a white T-shirt with gold writing on that I don't want to stare too closely at. A fake designer handbag adorns her arm, and her skin is practically orange: What is this contouring that women are so fond of nowadays?

"C'mon, Dessy, you can't put me up for a few days?" she whines, waving a hand as I catch a glimpse of violet nails with crystals embedded in the tips.

Fuck. My loose cannon of a younger sister. "I really can't …"

She flounces past me into my open-plan lounge and flings herself onto my couch. Mitzi skitters joyfully over the floor, red ribbon and long fur bouncing: A new person has arrived in my territory!

"Sweetie!" Marla croons. "How's my baby?" Scooping Mitzi up, she buries her face in her coat. "You wanna go walkies with Marla? Hunh?"

"Don't promise things to her you're not going to deliver," I say, and she scowls at me over Mitzi's panting face. The contrast of her orange face next to my dog, who is the cutest thing in the world, makes a laugh rise up inside me but I squash it down.

"You've got such a well-paid job." She swings her arm around. "You could acknowledge and look after your siblings once in a while."

"I send Mom money, Marla."

"You don't give anything to me."

"Why's that, I wonder?"

My younger sister and I have a somewhat tempestuous relationship, but that's nothing out of the ordinary for my family. Someone is always falling out with somebody else or trying to get their way. We are a bunch of drama llamas. That's why I'd like a peaceful romantic relationship: My family creates enough theatrics to last a lifetime. And Marla isn't averse to dabbling in all sorts of things: gambling, alcohol, even drugs. Most of this is encouraged by a parade of willful boyfriends who want her to pay for stuff. She's the spitting image of my mom, with the behavior to match.

"I'm up to my ears in debt, and you're sitting in this fancy-ass apartment …" she starts.

"Also funded by debt. You think I don't have a mortgage?"

This doesn't suit her narrative of the wealthy older brother who doesn't give her a cent, so her eyes narrow as she changes tack.

"You're paid so much more than me, Des, and it's only for a few days. Just somewhere to hide. Something to tide me over."

Now it's my turn to narrow my eyes, and I fold my arms on my chest.

"Tide you over? Hide? "

"I'm broke until payday."

My sister is a beautician in an upmarket salon and makes tons in tips alongside working with her own clients on the side whom she visits in their homes. What women pay for their nails in this town is unreal, and she's excellent at it and no doubt chatty and fun with her customers. However, it's also true that it's hard living on her kind of salary in New York. So, I understand, but if I gave her a hundred dollars right now she'd either spend it on clothes or cocktails.

"Who are you hiding from?"

This gets me a huge, guileless smile. "I met this amazing guy, Des!"

They're always amazing according to Marla.

"An MMA fighter. He's so talented, and just about to break into the big time."

They're always just about to do something, too.

"This opportunity came up with a promoter to do some modeling that was too good to pass up. He just needed a couple of grand for a photo shoot and some other stuff, so I gave him my rent for the month."

She gave him her rent? Holy shit .

"Anyway, some rivals have got it in for him, so we need somewhere to lie low."

" We? "

She jerks her head. "He's outside."

"No. No, Marla. I am not having some MMA fighter staying here who's ‘hiding,' okay?"

Is she nuts? Imagine the kind of people who might turn up. Jesus, every time I help my family out, it's a bucketload of trouble. She pulls out her phone.

"I knew you'd say that," she says, muttering into her screen.

"What are you doing?"

"Texting to tell him he can't stay here. He's got a buddy in Brooklyn he can crash with."

"Why can't you crash there?"

She scowls up at me mouth open as her face starts to go red. "Jesus, your own sister. Just chuck me under a bus, why don't you? He'll be sleeping on the couch there, that's why. At least here I thought we'd have a proper bed in your spare room."

I sigh and point my finger at her. "You can live here for a bit, but he's never here and you're keeping the place tidy, and cooking and cleaning. No leaving your shit lying around."

She makes a face at me and tosses her hair. "God, treat me like a slave, why don't you?"

If only I thought she'd do any of it.

"I don't want you interfering and poking your nose into things, either. I've got a lot of trouble at work at the moment, and I don't need more from you."

She blinks innocently at me. "When have I ever caused you trouble? I know you like to pretend your family doesn't all rely on you, Des, but we do."

Yeah, get in line behind everyone else, I think. And I can guarantee some shit is going to go down with Marla, I just have no idea when it's going to hit me.