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And what they were working on?
Yeah, they were cooking meth.
Meth.
That was why cold medicine was regulated and watched so closely, because it was the main ingredient in making meth.
"Are you fucking serious?" I asked, my voice low, as I looked back at my sister.
"Else..." she tried in her big-sister soothing voice.
"Don't Else me. You're working with a street gang and stealing from a mutual friend so you can cook meth? You have a trust fund! You don't need to..."
"Office," she barked at Trick who reached for my arm, holding it tight, and pulling me back toward the office. I struggled at first, but there was no use. By the time he pushed me inside and Elana followed in, I had stopped trying to get away. Trick left, closing the door behind him and Elana leaned against it, crossing her arms.
She watched me for a long minute. "I needed to get out."
"Out?" I repeated.
"Yeah, out. I was so over all of it."
"All of what, El?"
"Everything. Dad, the money, the cocky rich guys, the job I hated, the house that came with strings, all of it. That entire life."
"You could have just... walked away at any time, Elana. No one was forcing you to live in that house or drive that car or work that job or date those pricks. Those were choices you made."
"Choices," she laughed, shaking her head. "God, are you still that naive?"
"I'm not naive," I bristled. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, I saw a bit of our father in her. It was in the condescension in her tone, in the way she made little, expertly placed jabs, knowing just where to poke to cause the most damage. In spending her life rebelling against him, she couldn't see that she had inherited some of his worst traits.
"Do you really think you have any independence? Why aren't you living in that small, unpretentious townhouse you really wanted? Why are you working in energy? Why do you still go to that ridiculous family dinner every Sunday?"
She had good points, she really did.
"I don't go to dinner anymore. Dad and I had a blowup. About you actually."
"About me?" she asked, and I could hear the neediness in her voice and wondered if she heard it herself. She wanted, she needed to know what our father thought or said about her.
"Yeah because I was mad that he wasn't looking for you and he called it a non-issue," I said and my voice was a little bitter as I dropped the last part, knowing it would hurt her.
Her lips tipped up but there was a deadness in her eyes at my words. "What did he have to say about the trust?"
"That you probably just emptied it and took off with some guy."
"He always had such a high opinion of me."
"Yeah and way to lower yourself to his expectations."
"Ouch, sis," she said, shaking her head. "You've never been so nasty before."
"Well I never had a drug dealing selfish brat for a sister before either. What is this? You want to stick it to Dad by what? Creating a criminal empire?"
"Could you imagine the look on his face when he found out?" she asked, smiling at the idea. "He would blow a gasket."
"Seriously? This is all because you want to piss off your father?"
"This is all because I'd never get free of him if I didn't make my own life! All the dinner parties and the charity events and the way he kept trying to make me get together with his business partners and..."
"Oh, please," I groaned, rolling my eyes. "He had no plans on trying to force you to marry anyone."
"Seriously?" she asked, laughing a little cruelly. "You really think he sees us as anything other than chess pieces he can manipulate across a board until he gets a checkmate. Grow up, Elsie."
"He never tried to set me up with anyone."
"He never had to!"
"What are you talking about?"
"Come on, there's naive and then there's plain dumb," she snapped and before I could open my mouth to object, she went on. "He didn't need to set you up with anyone because you already did that for yourself."
"I never seriously dated anyone he approved of."
"No, you didn't," she said with a smile. "But you were awfully cozy with Roman Matthewson weren't you?"
"Dad never wanted me hanging around with Rome!"
To that, I got another eye roll. "Reverse psychology, much? Dad's a pro at that stuff, Else. He knew that the more he objected, the more you would rebel and get close to him. He's been waiting about a decade for Rome to get his head out of his ass and make a move already."
I felt my stomach twist at that as well as the likely truth behind it.
"Too late now," I heard myself mumble.
"Too late?" she prompted and for a second, all she was was my sister.
