Page 6 of The First Taste

“Dad, I don’t think?—”

He cuts me off. “Go change. Wear that white number you insisted I purchase for your high school graduation party.”

Joy and I both pale a bit, sharing a surprised look. It’s a short, skin tight body con dress in ivory… and Dad threw an absolute fit when he saw me wearing it. We had the biggest argument of our lives that day and I barely made it to the graduation party because of it.

My dismay must be written on my face, because my mom shoos me toward my room.

“Go on. You’ve got ten minutes, then I need Joy to help me back to the hotel. She’s the only one that can work the app that tells you where to go. What’s it called?”

“The damn GPS, Elena,” my dad replies, his voice tart. He points a finger to my room. “You’d best mind, Ella Mae.”

He sounds like he means it. Bowing my head, I grab Joy and scurry to my room. I spend the next few minutes hunting down that dress and squeezing into it, then doing some minor primping. When I’m done, I model it for Joy.

Being all of thirteen years old, Joy is super unimpressed. “It looks like you’re going to spend the whole evening pulling it down to make sure your glory is covered.”

I wrinkle my nose and laugh.

“Daddy said it would set everyone’s hair on fire.”

“Hah! Yeah, it sure will scandalize some older folk. I don’t guess that you have a mess of church ladies to impress tonight, though.”

Grimacing, I shake my head. “No. I have a bunch of old white men to avoid hugging. That’s what they never told me when I was a little girl, doing ballet. Nobody ever said that I would end up bowing and scraping for rich old guys to…” I pause, remembering who I’m talking to. My sister is young and impressionable, and she definitely doesn’t need to hear my experience with having my ass grabbed or my hips cradled at gala events just like this one.

Instead, I smile wanly. “I wonder what daddy has up his sleeve.”

She sighs. “It’s always something, isn’t it?”

“I know that’s right.”

Joy sits on my bed while I rush around, filling me in on her life.

“Did I already tell you about getting into horse camp for the summer?”

“Of course.” I sit down beside her, handing her a mirror, and start applying makeup. “We talk on the phone almost every day.”

“I know. It’s nice to see you, though. Like… in person. We don’t get nearly enough of that.”

Slicking on a dark purple lipstick, I put the tube aside. I grab the mirror from her hands and pull her into a hug. She burrows in my arms, her eyes misting over.

“I miss you, Ellie.”

Smoothing her hair back, I smile down at her. Inside, I feel turmoil rocking me to my core. I should’ve already moved back to Atlanta, for her, if not for my emotionally distant, often emotionally turbulent parents.

“You too, JoJo. But no matter where I’m living, know that I love you so, so much.”

Joy straightens, wiping at her eyes.

“I love you too.” She seems a little abashed at the display of emotion, which is like a punch to the gut. “Mom will be mad if I wrinkle my dress. It’s Louis Vuitton.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course it is. Okay, come on. We should get going. But maybe tomorrow, we can sneak off, just the two of us, and go get ice cream.”

She twists her mouth to the side. “Mom says I am supposed to be on a diet. She says no sweets and no carbs, or I’ll put on weight.”

A pang of sadness resounds in my heart at hearing her words. She is way too young to be dieting. And I should know, because I was her age only six and a half years ago.

Wrinkling my nose, I whisper. “Diets are for athletes. If you have some ice cream, I won’t tell. I promise.”

She casts me a sly glance. “Well, okay… if you insist.”