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She turned to her own slice of desert. Their little Christmas tree twinkled serenely in the front window. Laurie, the babysitter, sat on the couch, probably playing on her phone.
Siena went up the walk and opened the front door.
“Hey!” Laurie said.
“Hey. Everything good?” Standing at the back of the sectional, Siena unzipped her boots and freed her feet. That first moment of painful relief when her feet went flat on the floor made her eyes roll back.
“Good and golden, as always. Geneva is self-sustaining. Though she did spend most of dinner practicing her argument for why she doesn’t need a babysitter anymore.”
Siena smiled and counted out Laurie’s pay from her tips. ”I can shut down that argument in two words:She’s fourteen.”
“Is that two words or three? Does a contraction count as one word? Thanks.” Laurie took the little stack of bills and put them in her backpack without looking. “Do you need me next week? UNLV doesn’t start up again until the eighteenth, so I’m free as a bird until then.”
“School starts for her on Tuesday, so I’ll only need you in the evening. I go back to days two weeks from Monday.” Working days halved her tips, but she didn’t need to pay for a babysitter, so it almost worked out as a wash. Almost. Also, the uniform was slightly lessextrafor the day shift. “I’m off tomorrow and Monday, though. Tuesday good?”
“Tuesday’s perfect. Same times?”
“Yep.”
“Okay. Bye, Siena!”
“See ya, Laurie. Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year to you, too. It’s got to be a better year than the last one, right?”
Siena knocked on the wooden door frame. “Let’s hope.”
Laurie bounced down the steps of the little concrete porch and, ponytail swinging perkily and earbuds already in her ears, headed toward her parents’ house in Desert Lanes, two desert lanes over.
She was nineteen years old. Siena was not that much more than ten years older than she was, but she felt utterly fucking ancient. She couldn’t remember what it felt like for life to be so light she could bounce like that.
Closing the door and engaging the locks, she picked up her torture boots and went back to check on her sister.
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~oOo~
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Geneva slept in herusual tight curl, holding the ratty stuffed rabbit she’d had since her first Easter. As usual, her room was cluttered but tidy. She’d been painting Dungeons & Dragons figures, and five orcs were arrayed neatly on paper towels across her desk to dry. All her paints and brushes were neatly collected. Books were arranged in rigid organization on their shelves, shoes in their correct cubbies. Everything always had to be in its place. A lavender glow suffused the room, originating from the pink and purple strip lights that lined the tops of the walls all the way around.
Gimli, Geneva’s dwarf hamster, had stopped running on his pink wheel and now looked at Siena like she was an intruder, beady eyes fixed and creepy little paws together.
Stepping quietly into the room, Siena went to the bed and stroked her hand gently over her sister’s pale hair. “Happy New Year, Gennie,” she whispered.
Geneva didn’t stir. Siena kissed her head and tiptoed out.
In her own room, while she extricated herself from her low-rent showgirl getup, Siena let her sister fill her thoughts.
The bolero jacket came off first, and Siena hung it up. She set the boots on the floor of her closet.
They were half sisters, separated in age by seventeen years and in genes by two different fathers, neither of whom had stayed around long. Their mom’s taste in men had been dicey at best.
Next came the French-cut panty that was the whole bottom of the uniform. That, she tossed in the dry-clean basket. She wriggled herself out of the dance tights next.
Siena’s father, to whom Mom had been married, made it to just shy of her third birthday before he’d taken that proverbial trip for a pack of cigarettes. Geneva’s father hadn’t even stayed around long enough for the baby shower. Geneva had the same last name as Siena, her father’s name, because Mom hadn’t changed hers back after the divorce, so it had been her name, too.
Off came the cold-shoulder top, and into the dry-clean basket.
