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“I guess.” I accepted the glass, took a sip, discovering it was a club soda and tequila, better known as “Ranch Water.” I clinked my glass with her red frozen daiquiri before taking another sip.
“Do you remember that day you caught me with the bottle of vodka in my bedroom? Pretty sure after that lecture I didn’t touch alcohol until my twenty-first birthday. And now here we are . . .” Lucy’s unexpected comment commanded my attention, but while my eyes focused on her face, my mind tried to drift in a completely different direction.
I simply stared at her instead of responding, finding myself lost in a daze.
My sister’s nose was a touch smaller than mine. Her eyes more green than blue. And her blonde hair borderline brown when she wasn’t highlighting it. She was far more Dad than me in looks, and I was a spitting image of Mom. And just like her in every other way, too.
And not a day went by I didn’t wonder what things would have been like for me—for Lucy—if Mom hadn’t raised me to be just like her. What if Dad hadn’t left Mom in so much debt when he died? Would Lucy and I still be in the States? Would Lucy be married now with a house and picket fence to keep a dog in the backyard?
And would I be . . .? I honestly didn’t even know what I’d wanted in my life before the decision was snatched from me. I couldn’t even remember if I’d had dreams and life goals.
“I guess you don’t remember that day like I do,” Lucy said, a slight catch of emotion in her tone.
“No, I do,” I murmured, still distracted by my thoughts. “I yelled at you for drinking alcohol straight from the bottle. You were only thirteen. And I’m glad you trusted my opinion enough to abstain from touching anything again until you were legal.”
“Technically, I was legal at eighteen in every other country we lived in. But you made me wait until twenty-one,” she reminded me with a little laugh. “You were momming me before you actually had to ‘mom’ me.” She took a small sip of her daiquiri.
“Mom did her best,” I said, feeling the need to defend her as usual. I knew where this conversation was going, and it never painted Mom in the best light.
“Mmhm. You’re far more paranoid than she ever was. Maybe if she had been as careful as you are, we wouldn’t even need to be here.”
I closed my eyes, doing my best to push the picture of Mom’s car accident, broadcast on the news that horrible day, from my mind. It was all there in my head like it was happening in real time, though.
I’d shut off the TV when Lucy had walked in the room that night, hoping she wouldn’t recognize the Ford Mustang on the screen. But I’d been too late. Lucy’s soda had fallen to the floor, splashing all over the beige carpet.
“Mom was paranoid. She taught me to be like this,” I admitted, opening my eyes.
“Maybe you don’t need to be quite so paranoid, though.” Lucy flicked at her straw, a frown marking her lips. “You made us fly into Peru, worried they’d intercept us at the airport in Brazil. We used old aliases in case someone was tracking our new names for this event. And—”
“You wanted to come here, and we did. It just had to be by my rules.” I sipped my drink, hoping she’d let go of the uncomfortable conversation.
“Yeah, okay.” The resigned sigh that left my sister’s lips lacked the dramatic emphasis I’d anticipated from her. That was progress.
I peeked over at the other female contestants. Most of them were huddled by the kidney-shaped pool. Little lanterns with fake candles surrounded the water, and I assumed that meant we wouldn’t be taking a dip tonight.
“Should we go talk to the others?” Lucy asked, following my gaze.
Eight women were chatting up a storm near the untouched table of food while two women were off to the side of the group. Not together. Just not with the others. Kind of like they were as unsure about being there as I was.
“I don’t know. Is this going to be a Hunger Games thing, and they’re our enemies, so we don’t want them to hear our game plan?”
“I hope not. Pretty sure people died in that game,” my sister reminded me.
“Right. Been a minute since I’ve read that series.” Or any book for that matter. I worked a hundred hours a day.
“Women will see you as competition regardless, though,” she said. “You’re smoking hot.”
I did feel kind of “hot” but not exactly like myself. My hair was down instead of in a messy bun or side braid like normal. Little diamond studs adorned my ears, making me feel princess-y for some reason. Probably because I normally wore simple silver hoops. It all felt like I was trying to be someone else. Well, more “someone else” than I usually tried to be.
But it was mostly the dress my sister bought me that had me uneasy. All silk. So thin it showed every part of my body as it clung to me like a second skin.
Sleeveless and backless. A sweetheart neckline with built-in bra cups that didn’t do such a great job at hiding my breasts.
“You have a great body. Shoulders women would kill for, perfect back muscles . . . and don’t get me started on your breasts.” The memory of her last exaggerated comment on my appearance as she’d helped me zip my dress at our hotel before we’d headed to the event had me nearly chuckling even now. “And with how your breasts look in this dress, well, they could make it to the Seven Wonders of the World list.”
They weren’t that big, just big enough to cause me back pain here and there.
“Ohh, the men are finally coming out,” she said a bit too eagerly for my liking a beat later, interrupting my thoughts. “And also, damn. They’re all pretty good looking so far.” My sister loosely wrapped an arm around my back as if worried I might take off in the opposite direction from the twelve men heading our way.
