She pouted a little, her pillowy lips forming an annoyed O. "So formal! We're family now. You can relax." She positioned herself in her chair so that her breasts were jutting toward me. "I finally saw Blake. She seems like she's doing well."
"Really? She didn't mention it," I lied.
Chelsea sniffed. "She wouldn't, would she? Mom and I didn't even get invited to the wedding."
"I think you know the reason for that."
She peeked up at me from under her lashes, and I wanted to smack her. "You mean…"—she leaned forward—"because she's a… you know?"
"Episcopalian?"
Chelsea cocked her head, looking confused. "Huh?"
Not as pretty as Blake, and nowhere near as smart. "Never mind. You were saying?"
"I was saying that we didn't get invited to your wedding because my sister's a hooker, and you didn't want your family to know." She appeared satisfied with herself.
"Ah." I sat back in my chair. "That."
Chelsea sat there, waiting for me to say more, or at least look surprised. "Yeah," she finally said, "that."
I shrugged. "What about it?"
"You tell me," she said, her voice provocative.
"You called this meeting, Chelsea. I have no idea why you're here."
The smug look slid off of her face. "The hell you don't."
"Ah, I see your true colors run close to the surface," I said. "I appreciate that."
"Good." Her tone was all business now. "I told Blake today—I need money for school and to relocate to New York. She said she wouldn't give me anything, but she's holding a grudge against me for some old stuff. She wouldn't even consider it. She's not thinking clearly."
"What do you mean by 'old stuff'? The fact that you stole her fiancé a month before her wedding, and that you married him yourself?"
Undeterred, she looked at me coyly. "If you met Vince, you'd know I did her a favor. I helped her dodge a bullet."
I gave her a tight smile. "How very philanthropic of you."
She looked confused again but quickly shook it off. "Whatever. I need money to start my new life. I'm coming to you because you're the only person in our family who can help."
"I'm not in the business of giving handouts."
Her throat worked as she swallowed. "I'm not looking for a handout. You do something for me; I do something for you."
I leaned forward. "And what's that?"
Taking my stance as a cue, she also leaned forward. Her breasts seemed dangerously close to popping out of her dress. "That all depends on what you want, big boy. Some people like to call it a sister act. You get what you have with Blake, and you get me on the side." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "I'm told that I'm a little spicier than my sister. She might be better-looking, but I can give you what you really want."
"I don't think you can."
She licked her lips and my skin crawled. "Lemme give it a try."
"Blake was right." I smiled at her again, sitting back against my seat. "You really are a piece of work. But you were sort of right, too."
She cocked an eyebrow, still looking hopeful.
"Your sister's much better-looking than you. She's also kind, thoughtful, intelligent, and altogether in another class of human beings. I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole wrapped in Clorox wipes."