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Erin is more of a behind the scenes girl, and I only know about her because she’s occasionally in pictures that Scarlett shares on her socials. She’s a shy brunette who spends a lot of time in her room and is rarely coaxed out of the house for a night on the tiles. She’s a photographer so she does go out during the day when she has clients to shoot for.
Karma’s a wilder version of Scar, with tattoos all over her arms. She has poker-straight black hair that hangs down to her waist, she never seems to blink, and she dresses like she’s just about to go make a RAP music video. Her actual job is in the therapy field, using music, but I’ve always been kind of fuzzy on what that means exactly.
Scarlett told me I shouldn’t have to interact too much with them.
They’ll probably tease me about losing the bet, but that allows me to be in a bit of a mood which is just as well. The neighbors' probably won’t have a clue that I’m not Scarlett, particularly since they have no idea she has a sister, never mind an identical twin. Her friends know about me, and they’re aware that I’m Scarlett’s opposite. I’m not sure how fooled they’ll be when I show up, especially considering I’m not really nailing Scar’s infectious energy.
The drive is a pain in the ass. There are road works in Silver Lake, so it takes an hour longer than I expect. By the time I’m pulling into the driveway of the rented house, it’s dark out, my butt has gone to sleep, and I’m stuck somewhere between hunger and queasy nervousness.
I park and change from my sneakers into Scarlett’s ankle boots.
Five-inch heels are a pain to walk in, but I won’t have to wear them for too long.
I’m home, I guess.
I get out of the car.
The porch lights go on as I approach the front steps.
It takes a second to find the right key, and then I realize the door isn’t locked.
The hallway is dark, and I stumble over something the second I step inside.
A discarded boot. I realize I’m standing on a jacket as well the second before my fingers find the light switch by the side of the door. The nightmare the inclusion of light reveals is nothing short of horrifying. The hallway is being used as a dumping ground for books, shoes, knick-knacks, bits of furniture, and piles of clothing.
I close the front door and then push the discarded boot to the side of its partner with one foot.
After picking the dropped jacket up, I dust off the footprint I made on it.
I find the hooks next to where it fell.
They’re pretty much jammed full.
I find a tiny bit of space for the jacket and hang it back up.
Once I’m sure there’s nothing else that might be seen as an obstruction in the middle of the hallway, I lock the door behind me and switch off the hall lights.
Moving forward slowly, I head toward the room at the back of the property.
I’m not really looking forward to finding out how Scarlett’s room looks. I lived with her for eighteen years. I know how messy and disorganized she is, and I know I won’t be able to get comfortable until I clean things up a bit, and it’s not because I love cleaning. It’s more that I don’t like mess.
The kitchen light is on, and the door to the backyard is open.
I can hear murmuring out there.
Either Karma got a phone call when she went out for a cigarette, or Cleo’s out there with her.
At least the kitchen seems to be reasonably clutter free.
I take a look around while I’m on my own, managing to grab a mug out of a cupboard and work out the coffee maker before Karma comes back inside, sighing dramatically.
“Oh, good, you’re home,” she tells me, her unblinking gaze fixing on me until I give her my full attention. She frowns lightly before her expression goes blank. God, she’s terrifying.
“I was starting to think you were going to stay at Saffron’s house for the whole week to avoid that dreadful situation with those idiot neighbors' of ours.”
Scarlett did also warn me that Karma calls me Saffron.
I’m careful to keep my expression steady. “Oh, that? It’s nothing. Seriously.”
