Oh shit.

My sister and I stare at the phone on the table.

That’s a special ringtone.

For a special person.

It stops ringing for a second and there’s an audible sigh of relief from both of us.

Until it starts ringing again.

“Don’t answer that phone, Kaija. Not while I’m here.”

I bite my lip, tapping my finger against my leg. “What if it’s important?”

“It’s never important,” Keyra scowls, “She’s always dragging you into some kind of issue. She’s a troubled menace who needs a leash.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” I frown, grabbing for the phone at the same time as she does, but getting it first. I swipe the answer button, leaving my sister muttering on the couch as I walk away so she won’t have any new fodder to think badly about our sister.

She really is a great person…she’s just a little…wild sometimes.

“Michaela? Where have you been?” I slide open the patio door and step out into the cool night, crossing my arms as I hold the phone to my ear.

It’s not anything new, but I still worry.

“Kai,” she whispers, “I need you to come here like, right now.”

I close my eyes, leaning against the balcony railing. “It’s nearly 1 am. What could you possibly be doing that you need me for?”

“I uh,” she whispers to someone in the background, “I just need a little help, I promise it won’t take long.”

I just feel it in my bones that she’s into some shit.

“Text me the address. I’ll let you know how long it’s going to take when I map it.”

“Okay, I will.”

“Okay.” I’m already whispering and I haven’t even made it back inside yet. Keyra is probably going to snitch to dad the minute I leave. I palm my phone and brace myself. Sliding the door open again, I go through and lock it behind me, leaning against the cool glass.

She looks up from the papers she’s going over and slides her black framed glasses off. “What childish stunt has she gotten into now?”

“Nothing.” I lie, skirting the couch and hightailing it to my bedroom. All I have on is some skimpy pajama shorts and a tank top. I need jeans at the very least.

I pull on some black denim and slide my feet into Nike Frees. Where’s that lightweight sweatshirt?

“Where do you think you’re going at 1am?”

“Mickey’s back home and she wants me to come sleepover.”

“That’s why you’re not packing any clothes? And what am I, chopped liver?” Keyra narrows her eyes and stands in my doorway.

“We’re almost the same size, I can just wear something of hers. And you’re welcome to come if you’d like.” The lies just keep piling on. I know damned well there’s no way my ass and tits will fit any into clothing of hers. Keyra knows it too.

I don’t even know why I’m lying in the first place. I’m a grown ass woman.

“You need to tread carefully, Kaija. We have enough to worry about right now without you letting an….eternal screw-up mess anything up.” I scrunch my face up, annoyed.

“That definitely wasn’t written for press-approval, Keyra. Be careful, your privilege is showing through.”

“She’s a bad influence on you. And it’s bad optics. I can’t keep everything from hitting the stands, you know that.”

“Who asked you to?”

She crosses her arms, shaking her head like I’m misbehaving. “See, that’s what I mean. You’re already not acting like yourself.”

I snap.

“I might be your baby sister, but I am not a baby. I’ve been supporting myself and never asked for a single handout. Even when I fucked up, I fixed my own mistakes. When are y’all going to let me live?”

She has this pitying look in her eye, like I just don’t understand. Like she knows so much more than me and is waiting for me to catch up. That’s what happens when you’ve got an overbearing sister and your dad’s from a family of politicians. At least our step-mom Sina just let’s me be.

Keyra and Michaela have never gotten along. Mickey is Sina’s daughter from her previous marriage, but we’ve always been thick as thieves.

Well, they did at one point. But I don’t think Keyra ever forgave her for her part in what happened.

“Listen, I’m just going to go over and I’ll be back tomorrow. You are welcome to stay here.” I just barely manage to keep from rolling my eyes. That would earn me another admonishment.

“Don’t forget, we have brunch tomorrow.”

“I haven’t forgotten. It’s literally on the same day every two months. We’ve been doing it for two years now, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it.” I can’t help the bitterness creeping into my voice, but per usual, Keyra ignores it. She likes things simple. Even her angry is some weird kind of calm. Eventually, I stopped trying to get a real rise out of her. She’s hard to get to, even though I know family is first to her.

Except when Michaela is in town. Then, at least I see a little bit of something that might be able to be interpreted as worry or emotion.

I guess the threat to our little family bubble of bland bliss is the only thing she truly cares about on a deeper level. I used to doubt that I was included in that category.

“Well, drive safely. Don’t get into any trouble,” she warns, aka Don’t give me any more work to do.

“I will. See you tomorrow.” I leave and give her a wave, under her still disapproving expression.

Oh well, I’ve been making my own decisions for a long time now and I’m not going to stop just because Dad’s in the running for mayor.

When my driver texts me that he’s there, I go outside and hop into the little sedan. The lights in my house go dark.

Good, if she’s headed to bed, she won’t text me making sure we’re being good little children.

I hook my phone up to the aux and turn on Bryson Tiller. As the guy follows the GPS route for the location Michaela gave me, I squint as the streetlights become a little more sparse and the area gets a bit more run down.

What the hell has she gotten into this time?