Page 5

Roxanne

“ J esus, what are you wearing?” I ask my sister when I meet her in front of the fountain at The Grove .

I take in her pastel pencil skirt paired with a silky white shirt.

This is definitely not the woman I remember when I was fourteen years old.

But after eight years of not seeing her and another four trying to catch up, I realize we are two different people.

Thirteen years ago, Silver and Roxanne didn’t even have the same names.

We are two different people in the same skin.

“What are you wearing?” she hugs me with a huge grin plastered on her flawless face.

I look down at my cut-offs and tank top. “What? You don’t like my ‘I don’t give a fuck’ print?”

“I was talking about the sparkly pink Converse, but that tank top is also a concern. I’ll have to explain to my husband’s campaign manager why you’re wearing that in my presence.” She laughs, and I do it too, but inside I cringe about it.

It didn’t occur to me that this could be a problem for her because she and her husband are public figures, and voters don’t like insolent brats.

“If you want, I can turn it inside out,” I suggest, but she waves off my concerns with a smile.

“Not necessary. The old bigots will get over it.” She winks at me, and I see her bodyguard trying to fight a smile.

I’m still not used to her having security following her everywhere. I can’t reconcile that my sweet big sister is a senator’s wife. It’s a wild twist in our life I would have never imagined.

“So, what do you want to eat?” she asks after the silence between us starts to become awkward.

Having your life on hold for eight years, far away from your sister, and then reconnecting as an adult isn’t easy. Sometimes there are these long awkward moments that still remain after four years.

“I’m craving a Philly steak sandwich!” I say, but the truth is that I’m just plain starving. I haven’t eaten since noon yesterday.

She studies me with worried eyes. “Are you eating enough? You look thinner than the last time I saw you.”

“Jesus, you sound like Mom. Yes, I’m eating enough,” I lie, knowing she will try to give me money like she has in the past.

“Well, get used to it because the next time you see her, she’ll ask the same question,” she states matter-of-factly as she walks toward the food court.

The place is bustling with tourists and we draw some attention from some of them. They may wonder what we’re doing together, considering we are polar opposites. Or they’re just curious about the bodyguard. That one is a huge attraction too.

We sit at the counter of the stand, and the guy at the grill double-takes when he sees us. He frowns and then goes back to his food, shaking his head.

“So, why are we here?” I ask after we order.

She frowns, glancing in my direction. “What do you mean? Can’t I invite my little sister to lunch?”

“Not two weeks in a row. You never do that,” I point out, and she seems genuinely confused.

“I didn’t know I had a timeframe to consider before inviting you out.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I find it strange that you can spend so much time with me. I know your life is a bit hectic.”

Hectic doesn’t even scratch the surface of the number of appointments she has. She was always someone who wanted to do something to help others, but this is ridiculous. Those who say politicians do nothing during the day have no idea what they’re talking about. I’m surprised she has time to sleep.

“But, since you’re asking, there is something I want to tell you.” She smiles shyly.

“Here we go. I knew it!” I laugh.

“Stop it! It’s not like I’m asking much of you.” She gets defensive.

“I know, I know. I was joking.”

She smiles at the girl behind the counter who is delivering our orders, and then waits for her to walk to the next customer before speaking again.

I guess she is used to paying attention to her surroundings to avoid someone eavesdropping on her conversation.

I can’t even imagine living like that my entire life, scared that someone might use what I say to harm my family.

“We’re going shopping for a party Raphael is hosting,” she spits out in a rush. She knows I’m not too fond of those kind of events.

“No, we are not,” I state resolutely.

“Please. Do it for me? Mom and Dad will be there, and they would love to spend time with you. I know you hate parties, but it would mean a lot if you come with me,” she pleads, and I can see the doubt in her eyes.

She thinks I’ll say no, and it hurts that she sees me like that.

I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with, that I’m stubborn and always do what I want, but I have a heart too.

She’s family, and I would never let her down just because I feel itchy at the thought of putting on a fancy dress and high heels to spend my evening with a bunch of disgustingly rich old men who think they have the world at their feet.

“Okay, but I have the final say on the dress,” I grumble.

She grins, and I can’t stop my lips from tugging at the corners. She is so happy it’s contagious.

“Thank you! I mean it. I owe you this one.” She’s sincerely grateful for something so small.

I know she still feels guilty for disrupting our lives and leaving our family in shambles so many years ago, but I never blamed her for what happened. On the contrary, I was proud of her bravery in doing the right thing, no matter what.

“We’re going shopping, but you owe me a dessert,” I say when we leave the food court and walk through the mall.

“That’s why we’re here,” she says, waving at the Cheesecake Factory on the other side of the walkway next to the movie theatre.

“No Rodeo Drive today?” I raise a suspicious eyebrow.

She is used to fancy shops and luxury brands, while I’m the poor one who can’t afford them.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable at Nordstrom than those stuffy high-end shops.” She frowns like she’s wondering if she made a mistake.

I smile. “It’s perfect.”

She nods but says nothing. Sometimes we tiptoe around each other.

We both grew up second-guessing our decisions because the cost of making mistakes was high.

Being in the witness protection program for eight long years changes your behavior.

And when you get out of it because the universe cuts you some slack, it’s challenging to go back to being carefree.

And it shows in how we behave around each other.

“So, do we have a theme for this party?” I ask, breaking an uncomfortable silence.

“It’s Starry Night. We’ll be dancing under the stars at the observatory.” She beams like this one was her idea.

“Wow, fancy. I’ll have to find something that lives up to the hype.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’re gorgeous even in that ugly tank top.” She chuckles, and I look down at my chest, pretending to be offended.

“What is wrong with it? It’s hands down my best one!” It’s not true, but seeing her face scrunch up in disgust is funny.

“Jesus. Your taste is worse than I remember,” she teases.

I laugh out loud as the guard at the front door looks amused. Then he lands eyes on my sister and her bodyguard and almost trips to open the door for us. It’s so strange to witness this behavior when I’m with her that sometimes I almost feel like I’m in a movie.

“Let’s go get this dress and not talk about the fact that you probably sleep in your fancy businesswoman clothes,” I mock, and she rolls her eyes.

It’s not a very senator-wife reaction, but I like it when she loosens up a bit when we go out. She reminds me of my old sister.

It is almost another three hours before I return to my apartment, but when I enter, I’m so exhausted I don’t even have the energy to get angry at the usual players on the couch.

“I have cheesecake for everyone,” I announce, putting the box on the table.

They all drop everything and run to the food.

“Jesus, are you people starving? Don’t you have a home with food to go back to?” I mutter, feeling a bit of that disappointment sneaking in that I push down into my gut every time I come home.

Candy approaches with paper plates for everyone.

“Thank you.” I smile at her, but she says nothing. She is always so shy that sometimes I just want to shake her to get a reaction.

“So, what’s the occasion?” Spike asks while handing out slices to the other five guys who have been playing until five minutes ago.

I know he noticed the fancy bag with my dress inside it.

He laid eyes on it as soon as I entered the room.

Some suspicion and maybe a bit of concern crossed his eyes.

He is not a fan of Raphael, my sister’s husband, and he is slightly unsettled when I spend time with her.

He says Raphael will find a way to drag me into a business that will land me in jail.

I’m aware that Raphael’s father is far from honest, and Spike knows it, too, but Raphael is a good guy.

He is more than okay, or I wouldn’t have let my sister marry him.

I checked, and I found nothing wrong with him.

“I have to attend a fancy party, and I needed a dress. This is my sister trying to bribe me to go shopping.”

The guys thank my sister with their mouths full of cheesecake, but Spike stops mid-bite and frowns. “And you agreed to go?” His voice has a shade of anger.

We’ve had this ongoing discussion ever since he discovered who my brother-in-law is, and it’s becoming a bit uncomfortable.

“Of course, I’m going! She is my sister, and my parents will be there.” The statement sounds a bit more frustrated than I intended.

The guys glance back and forth between us, and Candy lowers her gaze to her shoes, unsure what to do.

“You know you can always tell your sister you don’t want to, right? She can’t force you to go. You don’t even like those events,” he scoffs.

“Well, believe it or not, I want to go. I want to be there for her.”

As soon as those words roll off of my lips, I realize they’re true. I may not like that kind of event, but I love Silver and can’t wait to spend the evening in her company.

“I’ll come with you,” he states like it’s already decided.

My skin crawls at the idea. I don’t want him there.

He would ruin the night for everyone. He would make snarky, rude comments, maybe even make a scene, and I don’t want that to happen.

I can feel the embarrassment of showing up with him and it’s so strong I almost feel guilty.

I don’t want to be like those stuck-up rich people who think they’re better than everyone else and whom I despise, but I can’t stop my heart from leaning that way.

“No, you are not.”

“Why?” he challenges me.

“Because you’re not invited, and I’m going alone.” My answer is final, and he finally shuts up.

I grab a piece of cheesecake, the dress bag, and walk away before saying something I will regret.

It’s time for me to find another place to live, even if I don’t know how I’ll afford it.