“Can you let me inside now?” I ask, unwinding my arms from her slim body. She doesn’t look pregnant, but who knows. Mia has always been obsessed with staying a size zero, dieting to new fads, modeling couture fashion that looks like it belongs on prostitutes, and wearing a face full of makeup that ages her. She got used to the lavish lifestyle early on when her first single went to the Billboard Top 100 and her agent insisted that she wear makeup to make herself look older than the fifteen years she was when she hit instant stardom. Clearly, she’s still living in the fantasy world where she isn’t in her late twenties. Not that I would remind her. I like having my balls attached to my body.
“Of course.” She walks in, all but dragging me along with a strength I forgot she has. My sister always asks me if I’m the one doing ‘roids, but her freakish grip makes me wonder if she slips something extra into those weird ass shakes she loves. “Mom is out back with Dylan and the boys, and we’ll join her in a few minutes.”
We stop in the foyer and I look around to see nothing much has changed. There are new pictures hanging along the walls of her and her husband Dylan and their two dogs, or “the boys” as she always refers to them. My mom is in one of them and she looks thinner than I remember, but healthier than the years she was tied down by Harry. Happier. Off to the side is a massive white marble staircase that leads to the second and third floors, carpeted by a hideous white that never made sense to me considering everything here is monotone. Too bright. Too boring. Too fucking clinical. It makes me miss my place on the east coast. It was nothing special, a lot of wood and stone, but nothing like this museum where I could talk and hear my voice echo.
“Before we go any further, I have a surprise. I’m sure Gordy—” She pins my friend with her eyes until he shrinks back. “—already told you because he can’t keep his mouth shut, which is why I wouldn’t tell him what it is. But you’re going to love it.”
I eye her doubtfully until I hear light footsteps coming from behind me, then a soft voice call out a hesitant, “Ky?”
Spinning around so quickly my vision blurs for a second, I’m met with a heart-shaped face wrapped in a tan complexion from the brutal west coast sun, big hazel eyes that I know from the past lean more toward gray than the other colors they’re mixed with, and that button nose she said people used to pick on her for because it made her look “too young” despite her being just that. Young. Real fucking young.
“Jesus Christ.” I don’t even think before I’m in front of her, arms wrapping her up in the tightest damn hug I’ve ever given anybody. Her head lands just under my chin, which means she’s gotten taller over the last couple of years.
“Hey, Lele.” The nickname feels foreign on my tongue as it passes my lips. I squeeze her tighter like I don’t believe she’s really in my arms before stepping back, giving her a quick once over to see what time has done to the girl I once believed was family.
“I wish you’d stop calling me that.” Her cheeks blossom with pink as she kicks the carpet with a sandaled foot. Yep. Still loves those ridiculous strappy things that leave ugly ass tan lines on her feet.
I grin. “Never.”
Leighton Grier. Lele to me, but we all mostly call her Lenny. She must be close to five-eight at least. Tall. Long legs, short torso. Lean. Grown up. Her ebony hair falls well past her shoulders in tight curls I know she hates, and the strands have lighter highlights now to make the dark color less intense. I know for a fact she loathes keeping her hair down, so it wouldn’t surprise me if, by the time I leave today, it’s in one of those braided over-the-shoulder ‘dos Mia always helped her with.
“You’ve grown up, kid.” I whistle and smile when she rolls her eyes at me. I’m not used to seeing her wear makeup, but her eyes are rimmed with black and her lashes look abnormally long, like Mia’s been helping her style her face even though she doesn’t need it. At least