Page 16 of Stay Toxic

Tanya: Or commiserate, one of the two.

I smile at my phone. I know she’s going to be spectacular, but I know better than to insist. Voicing my high expectations will only fuck with her anxiety.

“Tia, right?”

A tray joins mine on the square table, and a tall, tanned guy slumps down opposite me.

“That’s right. Ben?”

“Yep. Ma called me Benjamin, ’cause I was supposed to be the last kid, then she popped out three more.”

I blink. “Oh wow! How many siblings do you have?”

“Five,” he says, attacking his lasagna with gusto. “Ari’s the eldest, then there’s Vince, then me, you met Lawrence, and then there’s the twins, Natalie and Victor.”

I whistle. “Your parents keep busy.”

He laughs. “You can say that again. We all have different dads. Well, except the twins. I think. They’re fraternal, so who knows.”

I snort. “You know, cats can actually carry litters with different dads.”

“There you go. Ma’s probably the first human to manage that.” He says it affectionately, I think, and with humor, so he’s not too bothered about his mother’s bedhopping habits.

“And you all get along?” I ask, finding it hard to imagine having that many people around.

Ben shrugs. “When we’re not trying to murder each other. You know. Siblings.”

I don’t know, actually.

“You have some?” he asks.

I hesitate before I nod. “Yeah. Two brothers.”

Back home, I would never have said that. I would have said yes, I have one brother that everyone knows about. Caleb Cole, multimillionaire founder and CEO of Eros And Co, to my mother’s endless irritation.

I clear my throat. “Caleb’s eleven years older.”

“That’s a big gap. There’s only eight years between Ari and the twins.”

“He was the oops baby from college, you see,” I explain. “My parents got married, and I was the one they planned.”

“Ah. Well, I guess if there’s over a decade between you, you don’t really get the wholeFight Clubthing we have going on in the house sometimes.”

“No, Caleb enjoys spoiling me, and he’s protective. He went to boarding school, so he was practically out of the house when I was born.”

“It’s more like a cousin than a brother, then. How about the other one? You said you had two brothers.”

I regret the impulse now. It felt good to say it, toclaimAndré, when I usually can’t.

“André’s my father’s child,” I say. “I only learned about his existence when I was seventeen. He…was kicked out of his house. Social services reached out to my mother—my father was dead by then.”

“Wait, wait. He’s your father’s kid, not your mother’s? So, like, Daddy fucked around?”

“Yep.” I make theppop. “André’s gay, and his mom might not be against fucking married man, but homosexuality is simply too far for her.” I roll my eyes. “So anyway, he was on the street, and doesn’t have other close relatives. He stayed with us for a while.”

I leave it at that. I don’t explain the part where André’s now attending the best music college in the country, happy, cared for, wanting for nothing.

So long as I do as I’m told.