"She's a dancer." I stepped between Dana Maria and the uniformed man. "And, you are going to apologize to the lady."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Morris, I know we cater to our celebrity guests, but I cannot allow her to be here."
"Allow her to be here? She is staying with me. She's my sister!" My knuckles clipped his cheekbone before I knew I had released the punch.
The concierge fell to the ground and glowered up at Dana Maria. "You're lucky he's lying for you."
My sister put a sharp heel in his chest and leaned down to flash her driver's license in his face. "See what it says there? Or does my brother need to correct your vision?"
The concierge turned pale. "I'm sorry, Ms. Morris. It was a simple misunderstanding. Please, let me get the door for you and your brother." He scurried to his feet and held open the door.
I urged Dana Maria through to the lobby before the crowd of reporters could catch up with us. In order to amend his mistake, the concierge stopped the flood of cameras and called security to help. I was relieved as we slipped through the crowd at check-in and made our way across the lobby to the hotel elevators.
Then, I saw Kya. She was sitting at a small restaurant table set with gleaming silverware. She caught my eye, and I saw a flash of emerald green anger before she blinked and blew me off. I could not move. I knew I needed to get Dana Maria away from the photographers, but I stared at Kya. She was angry with me. The thought gave me hope. If she was mad, then she cared and that was what rooted me to the spot.
"Is that her?" my sister asked. "I did meet her. She answered the door at your suite."
"Did she say anything to you? Was she rude?" I asked.
Dana Maria stuck out a hip and planted a hand on it. "Let me ask you a question, little brother. Did you tell her I was coming over?"
"No," I said. "We got distracted." I tried to catch Kya's eyes again. She had to remember how good it felt to be together. It could not just be me. She had to feel the same.
"Jesus, Fen, did you sleep with her?"
"Why? How could you tell?"
My sister punched me in the shoulder, hard. "So, you can't stop talking about the girl, you sleep with her, and then you invite me to come over, but you don't tell her anything about me. Think about it, little brother. Think about how it all looked from her perspective."
Dana Maria gestured to her blaze orange dress and tall platform pumps. She was anything but subtle, and I admired her for being straightforward about herself and what she did. Then, it dawned on me. Kya opened the door to see my sister who had come over straight from work.
My sister punched me again. "Too slow, Fen. You slept with her and then invited a stripper over. No wonder she's trying to kill you with those green glances."
I rubbed my shoulder and shrugged. "People shouldn't judge you based on what you're wearing. They don't know you. They don't know how we grew up."
"Do you know how she grew up? I've heard you call her Country Club Princess. Where's that come from? The clothes she wears. Sounds to me like you're just as judgmental as that concierge out there," Dana Maria said.
"It’s not the same and you know it," I said. "She dresses that way to make business deals. If anything, she uses it to cover up who she really is. You don't do that."
"I don't hide much," my sister said. She stared down a trio of young men who gaped at her. "Though, we both know you do exactly the same thing as y
our prim Ms. Allen. You wear your reputation like a bulletproof vest."
I tugged my sister into an alcove of potted palm trees. "You of all people should understand that. I was done being a burden to you. I needed to be on my own. And, to do that you've got to be tough."
"You are tough, Fen," she said. "But you're also being tough on her. Why are you giving her such a rough time?"
"I'm not," I said. My sister clicked an impossibly tall heel. "I'm not doing it on purpose."
"I think you are. I think you're pushing her every bit you can in the hopes that she'll turn and run. Then, you won't have to worry about keeping her out. You won't have to worry about her making a place in your life. That way it won't hurt when she's not there anymore."
"And, what's wrong with that?" I asked. "I'm not ready to share my life with anyone."
"Come on. When are you going to stop preparing and start living?" she asked. "Making sure everything is perfect first is making you miss out and it’s no guarantee that it all won't go to hell."
I shook my head. "I've got nothing to offer her. She doesn't really want me. It’s just fun for her to get out of her comfort zone, you know, go crazy in Vegas like every other tourist."
"So, you're not crazy in love with her?"