Reckless(4)

“Bang?”

She laughs. “Yeah. Bang.”

“So none of this?” I slurp my melting popsicle loudly before pretending to fellate it.

A snort escapes her. “Oh, my God. Stop that.” But she’s laughing, so I know I haven’t offended her.

Kat is seven years older and everything I could never hope to be. She graduated at the top of her class—all of them, from high school through college. She and her husband run a wildly successful lavender farm and beauty product company.

My sister and I are night and day. Our personalities. What we like. What we wear. How we talk. The only thing we really have in common is that when she’s not about to explode with an alien in her belly, we look similar with long, brown hair and hazel eyes.

She nudges her swollen foot against my ankle. “Don’t think I didn’t see what you did here, changing the subject.” Lowering her voice, she asks, “Do you need some money? Brady and I want to pay for half of your credits so you can graduate.”

I look down, hating that I should take her up on that offer. “Nah. I’ll get by.”

Thankfully, she’s never asked what classes I failed, and who wants to tell her Hispanic family she failed Spanish? Not me. But I didn’t grow up speaking fluently like Kat did. Still, it shames me.

Kat’s eyes flit around the apartment, and I know what she sees. The ripped carpet. Pizza boxes piled in the trash. Crumbs and empty soda cans forgotten on the warped coffee table. I’m not a total slob, but my roommates are. I might not be great at making my bed or folding laundry, but I’ve always tried to keep the rest of this place clean since I’m the one named on the lease. These last few weeks, though, I’ve sort of given up. I’ve gotten tired of trying to organize when no one else around here gives a shit.

It sucks having four roommates, but I can’t afford to move out on my own, not with my school loans and credit cards. Isn’t that the biggest kick in the head? I didn’t graduate so I can’t use that degree to get a better job than waiting tables and bartending, but I still have the loans.

Kat reaches up and twirls a long lock of her hair. That’s her tell.

I sit back and wait for her to spit it out. There has to be a good reason she drove an hour through Austin traffic to see me.

“Manita, I actually stopped by to give you a proposition.”

Here we go. When she breaks out the Spanish terms of endearment, I know I’m in trouble. “I haven’t resorted to stripping yet, so if that’s your concern, you should tell Mom and Dad they can stop lighting candles at church.” Not that I haven’t considered it.

“Brady has a friend—”

“You’re trying to set me up on a date? I already told you I’m not dating right now.” Because I, Victoria Duran, have sworn off sex, hot douchebags, and general debauchery for the foreseeable future. But my man-free diet only works because I do my best to avoid temptation.

“No, Tori, not a date. Brady’s friend Ethan Carter raises cutting horses down the road from us. He needs a nanny this summer for his two kids.”

I consider it for three seconds. “No.”

“What? Why?” She pouts.

“I don’t like kids.” It’s not entirely a lie. Kids remind me of what I wanted with Jamie, and Jamie reminds me that I’m a fool. And since that whole hit-and-run he played on my heart last year, kids sound shriller. Whinier. Like bigger pains than they’re probably worth.

“Not true! You love kids! I’ve seen you with our cousins and Izzy. You’re great with kids.”

“They’re family. I’m obligated to love those miscreants.” Look at me with the big words. I didn’t sleep through every class in college.

She fiddles with the hem of her blouse. “Think of it as a way to stay on the straight and narrow. You’re always so responsible and on your best behavior around children.”

This is about her thinking I’m still a party girl.

That’s the thing about a reputation. It’s hard to break and even harder to reinvent.

She shifts into her no-nonsense parental voice. “I really think you should consider it.”

“No.”

“Victoria.”

“Katherine.”

“I realize you’re in the middle of some kind of crisis that’s making you doubt all of your amazing qualities, but you and I both know you’re one of the few people I trust to babysit Izzy.” Kat is crazy protective of that child. I can’t say I blame her. “And she’s really only learned a few curse words from you over the years.”

I have a big mouth. I can’t help it.

My sister waves her hand at me. “You haven’t heard the best part. You’ll get free room and board, so you can save up and finish your coursework in the fall.”

“You want me to live on a farm? Are you out of your mind? That’s the middle of bumblefuck. How am I supposed to keep my bartending job at Wingman’s?”

“It’s called driving. You should try it.” She sighs. “Think of how much we’ll be able to hang out, and you won’t have to live in this hell hole with whatever random people your roommates bring home.”

That part is tempting. Except… “My car isn’t working right now.” The damn rustbucket coughed its last breath last week.