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Luckily, I didn't take that personally. With other boys, I was selfish enough to keep touching myself during the sex, and found out what I needed to get me there. I've never apologized for that, and I never will.
I have this feeling that Holt does know what to do with his. Thinking about him gets me hot enough that I lift my shirt and slip a hand between my thighs, playing with my girly parts and thinking about the strength in Holt's body until I make myself come.
Not five minutes after I'm finished, while I'm making up my bed, there's a pounding on the door. I slip on a camisole and some shorts and go open it, wondering if Sammi forgot her key.
But it's my other sister on my doorstep. Sara, the good girl. Sara, the smart, pretty, perfect one, the one with the college degree and the country-club husband and the 2.33 perfect blond children. (Okay, there are no actual three-tenths children that I know of, but the thing about Sara is that she always does things exactly the way Mom and Dad expect their kids to do things. Her kids, Violet and Morris, are perfect angels.)
Sara does not currently look like the Perfect Suburban Mom she usually embodies. She's crying. Her makeup has run, and she looks like a panda. Her hair is a rat's nest. And instead of her usual fine-gauge tank sweater and linen capris, she's wearing a raggedy old Whitefish HS Cheer t-shirt and a saggy pair of thin cotton pajama pants, along with slippers.
"Come in," I manage to say before my sister pushes past me and bangs her purse down on the kitchen counter.
"Please tell me you have vodka," she says.
"I don't like vodka."
"Wine then," Sara demands, before I can tell her that I only have gin and two bottles of amber ale in the apartment. Sammi's not much of a drinker, never has been, and I'm picky.
I open the fridge door and get out the gin I keep in there, along with tonic water and some lime wedges. I silently make Sara a gin and tonic and hand it over, only to watch her down it in about four gulps. I make her another one. "That's the last you're going to get before you tell me what's going on. You can't get drunk until I know what shit is going to hit what fan."
"Matthew," she says flatly, and then gulps a quarter of her second drink.
"No kidding. Has he been careless with his genitals?"
Sara screws up her face. "What the hell,Sage?"
I clarify. "Is he cheating on you?"
"No. Worse!"
"Okay then, what did he do?"
Sara collapses into a kitchen chair. "Money," she says.
CHAPTER FIVE
SAGE
Iblink. My brother-in-law is one of those financial-wizard guys who grew up in a wealthy family back east and came out to Montana for the skiing and outdoor sports. He works from home, mostly managing his own investment portfolio as well as my parents' investments. He's the kind of guy who spends his time playing Outdoor Sports Guy and paying other people to do the unpleasant house maintenance stuff, so he and Sara have this McMansion near the ski resort that is maintained by two landscapers, an on-call handyman, and two live-in maids.
Mom and Dad thought Sara hit the jackpot when she married Matthew. And yes, he's attractive and well-mannered and loaded, and I would have said, not a complete asshole.
But.
This.
My older sister, Miss Perfect, is a mess right now.
She pounds down the rest of her cocktail and gets up, staggering just a little. "I need carbs," she says, sounding desperate.
"You just had carbs," I point out. "Alcoho--"
"I needsugar,"she snarls. "Cake. Cookies. Brownies. Hell, waffles will do."
"We have cupcakes," I offer gingerly, stunned at the lengths to which my crunchy-granola-mama sister has gone. Not only is Sara drinking before 11 a.m. and demanding sweets, she just said hell. "Sammi brings them home from Cupcakes on Wheels." I open the plastic container holding Sammi's favorite strawberry cheesecake cupcakes and my favorite chocolate-coconut ones.
Sara's hand reaches over mine and grabs one of each. She rips off the paper and eats half the choco-coco one in one bite. "What is this?" she asks through the mouthful. "Tastes like a Mounds bar."
"Yep. Listen, sit down and slow down before you choke, okay? And you still haven't told me what Matthew did." I get her a glass of water. "No more booze."
