The Design(11)

“You look like crap-ola,” she said, swinging the door open wide. Sisters can get away with saying things like that. Anyone else would have gotten a swift kick to the face.

“I need alcohol. All the alcohol.”

Brooklyn laughed and eyed me suspiciously as she pulled down two mugs from a cabinet. “Let’s start with coffee. It’s not even noon yet.”

Could it really still be that early? So much had already happened.

“Okay, but it better be mostly amaretto.”

I watched Brooklyn move around her kitchen, admiring her long blonde hair piled up on top of her head in a loose bun. She was usually out and about by this hour, either at the studio, recording an album, or driving around town for meetings. I must have caught her on a slow day because she was still in her pajamas. (Which, by the way, had little crunchy tacos dancing down the pants. The matching shirt said “Jalape?o business”. Ha. My sister is witty.)

“Remember when you and your sweet piece of man candy first met?” I asked.

“His name is Jason,” she warned over her shoulder. “But sure, what’s up?”

“Yeah, Jason, that’s what I said. Anyway, I had a morning that kind of tops everything that ever happened between the two of you.”

“Wow,” she laughed. “That’s saying a lot, but y’know whatever.”

“No, seriously, you guys are so yesterday,” I joked.

Brooklyn narrowed her eyes playfully. “Well. Not really. I mean all of the magazines are still reporting about our—”

“Yeah, we get it. Two pop stars fell in love while riding horses and eating cow pies. Boooring. You guys are like a Lifetime movie where the moral is ‘be attractive’.”

“You have two seconds to get to the point or I’m kicking you out of my condo,” she threatened while pointing toward the door.

“Grab me a donut first,” I insisted with a smile that said “I’m your little sister, please give me donuts.”

She rolled her eyes before turning toward the refrigerator and pulling out some leftover donuts and coffee creamer. I filled up our coffee mugs and took my seat across from her once again so that I could fix my cup: 10 parts cream to one part coffee. (The only way to enjoy a cup, in my opinion.)

I stuffed the powdered donut into my mouth and tried to process where to begin for Brooklyn. I still wasn’t sure if I should tell her the truth or keep the interview more private, so instead I shoved another bite of donut into my mouth. The powdered sugar tickled the back of my throat and I started coughing unbearably. Every time I tried to take a breath, it just got worse, and I ended up spitting about 99% of the powdered sugar out onto Brooklyn’s kitchen counter.

She flinched back in mock disgust. “Dude! You are an animal. How am I related to you?” But then when I didn’t stop coughing, she started to feel bad.

“Are you okay?”

I grabbed for my coffee mug and drank a giant gulp. The liquid finally calmed my cough down enough that I could breath normally again. (No thanks to Brooklyn pounding on my back like a wild gorilla.)

Tell her the truth. Just say it. Now.

“Grashsyn admitihehdhe hasfe elingsfhorme,” I spoke against the ceramic mug.

Brooklyn laughed and pulled the coffee mug away from my mouth. “Say that again, this time in English.”

I stared down at her marble countertops, wishing I could take another bite of donut. Tell her and then you can eat another bite. “Grayson admitted he’s attracted to me.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Or used to be attracted to me. Whatever. I don’t know.”

Brooklyn gasped with mock surprise before bursting out laughing.

I studied her, trying to get a read. “You knew about it, didn’t you? What the hell?”

Had she been holding out on me?

She held up her hands in defense. “No, honestly. I didn’t. I just had a hunch.”

I wanted to throttle her for details. How long had she suspected something? Couldn’t she tell that I’d been hopelessly pining after him for years?

She leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest so that I couldn’t see the nosy taco on her shirt anymore.

“I swear it was a recent development on my part. I was going to bring it up with you after your interview, which, I’m guessing went well since you haven’t mentioned anything about it yet.”

I smiled wide. “Oh, yeah, that. I totally nailed it.”

She grinned and came around the kitchen island to wrap me in a hug. “Congrats! I knew you would. When do you start?”

“I have a new hire orientation at 8:00 am Monday morning.”

“Perfect,” she clapped. “I’m taking you to get a first day outfit, and then you can tell me all about the interview.”

…



Monday morning I found myself standing in the bathroom on the ground floor of the Sterling Bank Building, studying my appearance in the floor-length mirror. I scanned down my new outfit. My pleated black pants hugged my thighs and accentuated my giraffe-like legs (No, seriously, I’d been teased about it in school. Giraffe Girl. Giraffe legs. Cameraffe. You get the idea.).

My white silk blouse had a black bow that fell against the center of my chest like a soft necklace. My chestnut brown hair fell down my back in artful layers that Brooklyn had helped me blow out earlier that morning.