Penny
The airport is huge, and somehow it feels small enough to suffocate me. I didn’t need to pick Kylie up. She has a service for that. However, the idea that she might hear about the pending doom before I have the chance to tell her is too scary.
“What are you doing here?” Kylie asks, looking instantly uneasy as she drops her cell phone by her side. She’s giving me her full attention. That’s a bad sign.
“I wanted to pick you up so we could talk,” I edge out as I ring my hands and try to catch my breath.
“What happened?” she demands. Her steely blue eyes have locked onto me like a torpedo that’s found its target.
“It’s a long story,” I sigh, feeling like more than my hand is caught in the cookie jar. “I don’t know where to start.”
My sister’s arrow-straight back seems to tense even tighter. “The apartment?”
“Partly,” I groan. “Your apartment. My apartment. Dad’s business. I’ve managed to pretty much wreck everything that has anything to do with our family’s success. I really screwed this up.”
“Just tell me what happened,” Kylie says, pulling me out of the path of other passengers and leading me toward the VIP section of the frequent flyer room. She swipes a card and the light flashes green as a concierge waves us in.
“Miss Fuller, welcome. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Bourbon,” Kylie barks out and then remembers I’m here. “Make it two.”
Normally I’d tell her I didn’t want a drink, but anything to take the sting out of this moment would be welcome. “Am I supposed to be in here?”
“You’re with me,” Kylie says, taking a seat in one of the plush leather chairs and waiting for me to join her. The contrast between us is vast. She’s in her favorite slate-gray power suit that fits her perfectly. Her hair is pinned back and her mascara is flawlessly applied, something I never mastered.
I, on the other hand, threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that I wish I could tear off and throw in the trash. It smells exactly like Dalton’s cologne. Every time I breathe in, it’s like he’s here with me. Just like the last few weeks, it knocks me off center in the worst way possible.
“Tell me what’s happening,” Kylie says, taking her drink and sipping it as she eyes me. I take a long swig of mine and try to stall. “Come on, Penny. I can’t fix this if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”
I launch into the story with a flurry of explanations I’m certain she won’t be able to follow. It hardly makes any sense to me, and I’ve been living it for weeks. But as usual, Kylie picks it all up with ease.
“All right,” she says, leaning back in the plush chair as she considers all the drama I laid at her feet. “You have some legal recourse when it comes to your studio apartment, but I don’t think it’s worth what it’ll cost to fight them. Now I know you’re not going to want a loan or anything from me. That’s fine. I have a friend who is looking to sublet her two-bedroom while she takes on a job overseas for a year. I can put you in touch with her. The rent might be a couple hundred higher, but with the bedroom layout maybe you can bring in another roommate.”
“That could work.” My jaw is clenched so tight with nerves the words hardly come out. “But then there is still—”
“From what you tell me, the proposal that guy gave you about Dad’s business could really work. Not only work but be sustainable. I could put a week or so into getting him sorted out. I’m only pissed I didn’t think of it myself. It balances Dad’s nonsensical philosophies and profitability.”
“Kylie,” I whisper, leaning across to touch her leg. “They have your lease, and they’ve put lawyers on it. They’ve found multiple ways to exploit loopholes to get you out of there. I let them do it. I was careless and selfish and not paying attention. You get that, right?”
“Penny, I knew they wouldn’t take this lightly. I figured they’d pull all sorts of stunts. You and I are basically in open rebellion against patriarchy. That doesn’t come without resistance. That’s why I sent you there.”
“Me? I’m the worst person for the job. If you knew they were going to fight so hard, why not have someone more like you do it?”
“Do you know how many people like me?” She laughs and a couple of the bricks that are piled on my chest seem to fall away.
“No, but you must know someone who is better at this stuff than I am.”
“Penny, I needed someone in there who could get knocked down and not only get back up, but do it with a smile. You are so resilient and positive, I knew you could take whatever they threw at you. I can’t say I imagined you’d fall for my neighbor, but—”
“What?”
“I know how to win, but I don’t always know how to win people over. Maybe there was a part of me that thought you’d go in and warm the crowd up a bit. I had this image of you in the bar downstairs, holding court and having them all eating out of your hand.”
“That did not happen,” I say somberly.
“You made allies,” Kylie reminds me. “People who seem willing to go to bat for you, even when there is nothing in it for them. That’s impressive.”
“You heard the part where they have your lease and they’re going to use it to get you kicked out? My allies aren’t going to help with that.”
“They don’t need to.” Kylie chuckles. “I’m not worried about their lawyers or my lease. Christen Brockton owns the place now. She is going to change things at Bachelor Tower. It’s archaic and ridiculous. I had the lease gone over with a fine-tooth comb, and we knew about every single one of those loopholes. Hell, we put a few of them there on purpose. She and I have a separate contract with a nondisclosure agreement that details her plans for the place. I’m one piece on her chess board, and she has a lot of moves left.”
“But these guys are judges and politicians. They come from powerful families. They aren’t going to let things change.”
“The funny thing about change”—Kylie smirks—“is it never stops happening no matter how much people try to stop it. I want all the perks that come along with my new apartment, but more than that, I want to be part of the change. You’re right; these guys are powerful. They’re used to getting what they want when they want it. I’m not saying there won’t be resistance, but I’m not leaving.”
“What do we do now?” I ask, in complete awe of my sister’s confidence.
“We go rattle these bastards,” she says with a breezy shrug. “They owe my sister an apology.”