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So, because my parents divorced, my mom isn’t pretty enough? Have you seen my mother?
“So, that’s where the bad blood came from.”
No, they were born with it. I could feel my whole face cringe at them.
“Yep, and now that he’s dead, they’re fighting over his fortune.”
How long are bathroom breaks here?
“I thought they both signed prenups?”
They did because, apparently, my father knew them both well.
“Yep, but he has two surviving daughters. Augusta—that’s Yvonne’s daughter. And Odette, who’s Wilhelmina’s.”
“So, both daughters get his money.”
Yes, we do.
“Yep, and get this, Yvonne’s daughter is four years younger. Can you imagine being his first wife but getting the second child.”
What difference does it make? A child is a child.
“Do you think he cheated on both of them with each other?”
“Absolutely. I’m sure there are more kids out there, too, somewhere. Rich guys are all like that.”
I would love to get a look at your families. What are your fathers like?
“Wow, men are trash.”
My father wasn’t trash. They never knew him and probably never even heard him speak but felt so free to judge him.
“Right, but he was worth almost fifty billion dollars. I’m sure that’s how he made up for everything. All he had to do was say, “Honey, I’m so sorry. Here’s a diamond ring.’”
“Our dad apologized with real estate, not jewelry. Diamond rings are millionaire-level shit.” I knew that voice. “Odette, are you hiding?”
I stepped out to see two women hunched over the sink, eyes wide and terrified. “No, I was eavesdropping actually, waiting for the perfect time to strike, but you ruined it. What took you so long?”
“My mom was being difficult! Are you two just going to keep staring or what?” She directed the last part of her comments to the women beside us.
I waited for them to leave before moving to the sink. “We’re the talk of Seattle all over again.”
“We always have been. They love us. We’re like modern-day princesses,” she said, stepping up beside me, twirling her light-brown hair with her finger.
We were sisters, but that half really made a difference. While my skin was a warmer brown, hers was a light-brown, almost white. It was the same with our hair color—both were curly, though she straightened hers, and mine was dark brown and curly. Her eyes were like her mother’s, and mine were brown. She was petite while I was tall.
“Different, beautiful, opposite, perfect—”
“No better or worse than each other,” she finished and looked to me. “Dad always said he wasn’t good with words, but he sure knew exactly what to do to make us both feel good about ourselves.”
“Yep.” I sighed. “He never wanted us to be jealous of each other.”
“Never worked,” she admitted. “I mean, it could have if someone didn’t have to go and become some famous singer, too. Now I’m just the beautiful, amazing, smart, and fashionable girl living off Daddy’s money. Meanwhile, you have your whole career.”
I rolled my eyes. “You know, if you want to make me feel bad, don’t throw in so many compliments for yourself.”
She winked before spinning her whole body to me. “I don’t want to make you feel bad. I’m just kidding—well, a little. How is the music coming along?”
