Mission For Love (Love By Design 6)

“Kia!” My sister Kelsey banged on the door to my apartment with enough force to shake the wall. You would think being a doctor she’d want to save her magical life-saving hands, but that went out the window on rare nights when our schedules aligned like stars and we let loose.

I steadied the picture frame and opened the door giving her a look that said tone it down. Last thing I wanted was a passive aggressive note from Mrs. Williams next door.

I lived in one of three apartment complexes in town not occupied by local college students or the elderly, and had easy access to a running trail. My first floor apartment looked out onto a parking lot in the back and a field of corn in the front banked by a river and an old rail trail. It was perfect for me even if my family didn’t love the idea of me being independent. I had to fight to get here and I wasn’t giving up. Not for loud sisters, my mother’s home cooking, or my dad’s sage advice.

Kelsey had a way about her that said brute force and bossy doctor all in one just because she was the eldest of five. Lucky me, I was the middle child separated by seven years on either side my older brother Landon and then the twins below me. Lucas and Khadijah were a surprise and a constant source of mischief for my parents.

“You know, I have a phone, a doorbell, email, even a carrier pigeon would have been sufficient and much less disruptive.” I welcomed my sister inside, followed by the youngest of the twins, Khadijah, or Dijah for short. Girls night was a tradition for us and our little sister was a recent addition. We figured letting her tag along was safer than knowing she’d sneak out.

Dijah breezed in heading directly for my fridge pulling out a bottle of wine. “Kelsey was trying to escape the Aunts from matchmaking.”

“What are you doing?” Kelsey swiped the bottle from her hands and thunked it down on the counter. She leaned back crossing her arms over her chest like she was about to dress down one of her interns.

Dijah pouted and rolled her eyes. “I would have thought pre-gaming was obvious.” She slapped her hands on her thighs and then elbowed Kelsey out of the way to grab a diet soda instead.

“Not on my watch.” Kelsey held her hand out expectantly and Dijah handed her a soda. “I only said you could come because I was going to make you the designated driver.” Kelsey cracked the opening of her soda taking a sip smacking her lips in a smile.

“I brought my fake idea.” Dijah rummaged inside her purse pulling out the license that looked suspiciously like one of my old ones. Kelsey snatched that out of her hand and tucked it in the back pocket of her jeans. Dijah’s eyes went wide and if I didn’t intervene there’d be a blood bath to clean up in my apartment before the night was over.

“And we can drop you off at home.” Kelsey stated matter of fact swinging her head back and forth over her neck in a slow rhythm to make her point.

“Fine. Fun killer.” Dijah waved her arms around. “Kelsey, murderer of fun.”

Kelsey got right back in her face. “Sister you have no idea the amount of fun I can slay if I need to.” This was the moment I stepped in to intervene. I loved my sisters. I loved my family, but they were exhausting most of the time and one of the secret guilty reasons I moved two towns and a river away.

I moved between them hands out to create space in my tiny kitchen. “Okay, that’s enough. I thought we were going out.” I’d been living here for two years and I wanted my neighbors to continue liking me. Avoiding a crime scene in the kitchen was critical.

“We are when you get ready.” Kelsey strode into my living room and sat down on my couch.

Dijah dragged me inside my bedroom muttering under her breath about the blessing of sisters. She flicked hangers in my closet and made all kinds of disapproving noises with each scrape of metal hanger against the hanging rod.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I looked down at my slim fit jeans and loose blouse. Okay, so it wasn’t super-hot, but I also had a few body issue hang ups and didn’t feel like advertising them to the world. Not to mention the fact that I didn’t keep a stock of hot pants and corsets on hand since graduating college.

Kelsey yelled from the living room. “It screams nerdy school teacher.” My neighbors definitely hated me now if they didn’t before.

“I am a teacher.” I taught health education as well as junior and senior gym, and coached the high school girls track and cross-country teams. What did my sisters expect?

“Here, wear my thigh boots and give me a pair of your heels.” Kelsey unzipped her boots handing them to me as I looked over my rack of guilty pleasure. I might not have had sexy dresses, but I had a thing for cute and sexy shoes even if I seldom wore them outside the house.

“I don’t understand why you buy these.” Dijah picked up a pair of sparkly black platform heels and handed them Kelsey.

“Shut up Dijah.” Kelsey scolded her and I shimmied out of my jeans careful to remove the stretchy cotton over my prosthetic leg.

Dijah handed me a micro mini skirt from the back of my closet and a pair of black stockings. She let me keep my off the shoulder top. I fixed the boot and pulled it over my leg sliding the zipper up.

“Okay, is this good?” I stood up and walked over to the mirror inspecting my outfit. The tight skirt I could dance in, cute top, and sexy as sin thigh high boots that covered my prosthetic leg from my carbonite toes all the way up and over my knee. At first glance, I looked incredibly normal. Hot–if I dared to say so and nothing like a teacher or former cancer patient on a Saturday night.

I’d finally gotten around to throwing out my old wigs and scarves from chemo days cleaning out the hall closet this summer. I’d gotten sick the end of my junior year of high school. I fought hard and won which not every kid I knew at the children’s hospital was able to do. I’d lost a lot along the way including close friends, my first boyfriend, my chance to sprint hurdles at the Olympics, and my right leg below the knee. I was damned if cancer was going to rob me of anything else, including a night with my sisters.

“Stunning.” Kelsey said over my shoulder as she fluffed my springy curls.

“Hot as fuck. You’ll be married before the old maid here.” Dijah poked Kelsey who scowled and I elbowed both of them to shut them up.

The girls were determined to take me out for a night of debauchery and fun.

“I’m thinking a nice smoky eye to go with your gorgeous hair and this tight looking outfit you’ve got here.” Dijah pulled out her makeup kit and went to work on me. The male population of Poughkeepsie was saved from being subjected to my crooked eyeliner with her expert hand. She applied it with the kind of precision my older sister had with steady hands in the OR.

Kelsey put her fingers in my ringlet curls of hair styling it. Black hair could be difficult if not maintained and my sister was a genius between her olive oil and shea butter hair concoctions. If she hadn’t gone to medical school, she would have made an amazing hairdresser. As kids she loved doing our braids and we let her do it avoiding her otherwise bossy nature.