Page 4 of The Favorite Sister

“Oh, Brett isextremelyclever.” Kelly gets me in a headlock and gives me a noogie, her preferred method of attack whenever she feels like anyone is stroking my ego too hard. She likes to try to break off my Cher hair at the root. I sink my teeth into her arm hard enough to taste her Bliss body lotion, the only body lotion Kelly can afford at Bluemercury, and she releases me with a sharp cry.

Erin reaches out and irons my hair back into place.

“Can you please tell everyone it’s real?” I ask her.

“Hair is real.” Erin pretends to jot it down in a pretend notebook. “It’s interesting,” she says, “but I’m noticing a pattern here that the show parallels. You as the little sister to the group.”

“Mmmm,” I say, unconvinced. “I think Jen Greenberg would rather hump a hot dog than share a bloodline with me.”

Erin controls her laugh, but her eyes are twinkling with shared detestation for Jen. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

There is no love lost between Jen Greenberg and me. We were acquainted through the wellness industry years ago, something approaching friends that first season. Viewers watched as I grew close to her famous humanist mother, Yvette, who loves Jen because she has to and me because she does, and everyone thinks this is why we can’t speak the other’s name without a lip curl of contempt. The reality is that there is a gap between Jen’s onscreen persona (Vegan. Groovy.) and real-life one (Vegan. Mega bitch.), and I have no patience for that particular brand of inauthenticity.

And guess what? It’s okay that we do not get along. It is a dangerous thing to conflate feminism with liking all women. It limits women to being one thing,likable, when feminism is about allowing women to be all shades of all things, even if that thing is a snake oil saleswoman.

Erin continues, “I guess I just mean everyone has their role, right? You’re the baby. The scrappy up-and-comer. Stephanie is the grand dame. The one with it all—money, success, love. Jen is obviously feminist royalty and Lauren’s the straw that stirs the drink. Hayley was, I don’t know... I guess she was the normal one?”

And that’s why you’re speaking about her in the past tense. Hayley’s obituary came in the form of anUs Weeklyannouncement detailing her desire to concentrate on new and exciting business opportunities. As if the whole point of the show isn’t to document that very thing. I liked Hayley and I think she had another season in her, but she got greedy, asking for all that money when she was bringing nothing to the table.

Cast members drop every year and I see no reason to go into crisis mode worrying that I might be next. We all have a story that will come to an end at some point or another, no use making myself crazy trying to manipulate the inevitable, as is the way of some of the cast. Still, I’d rather deal with that than with my sister, buzzing in my ear the last few weeks.Would the producers consider her to replace Hayley? Would I talk to Lisa again? Would I talk to Jesse this time?

I submit. “I guess I’m kind of the underdog.”

One side of Erin’s mouth tugs down, wryly. “Well. If the underdog has three million followers on Instagram while the rest of the cast has yet to break a mil. But in terms of your socioeconomic standing, yes, though I’m so interested to see how this season plays out now that you’re catching up to everyone else financially. It seems like you’re really firing on all cylinders, you know? You’re in a serious relationship with a drop-dead gorgeous human rights lawyer—”

“Who volunteers with sexual assault survivors and speaks five languages,” I pad.

Erin laughs. “Who volunteers with sexual assault survivors and speaks five languages. Then you’ve got the book deal. The two new studios. You’re trying your hand at yoga. All of this, it’sgoingto cause a power shift in the group. I mean,” she smirks—not at me; ather, “it already has, hasn’t it?”

Kelly watches me, curious how this is going to go. This is the first time anyone in the press has asked me abouther. Stephanie. My former best friend.

I gather my wits and say, “I’m not one for beating around the bush.”

Erin leans forward with a collaborating smile, as though to assure me we can shape this any way I want if I’m willing to spill the tea. “I heard you and Stephanie had a fight and are no longer talking.”

I speak around her, to Kelly, “It was onTMZ, right? So it has to be true.”

Erin shrugs, unfazed. “TMZwas the first to break the news about Michael Jackson’s death and the Kim Kardashian robbery.”

“I loveTMZ.” Kelly grins at me, thrilled to see me in the hot seat. Kelly knows all about my falling-out with Stephanie. But unlikeTMZ, and unlike what I’m about to tell Erin, she knows the truth, and I can count on her to keep it a secret. Sisters are reliably good for two things: hating and loving.

“We haven’t spoken in six months,” I admit.

Erin purses her lips, saddened by this news. But the sadness isonly an angle to solicit more information. “I loved your friendship with Stephanie. It felt important to see a relationship like that between two women. Important and remarkable, especially for the reality TV landscape that feeds off women in conflict. And you didn’t—” She cuts herself off, searching for a better phrasing. “I don’t want to sound blamey. I guess I’m trying to understand how two women whose bond seemed unbreakable don’t reconnect given the serious revelations made by one in her memoir.” She waits for me to respond. I wait for a question to actually be asked. “Unless...” Erin squints as if to filter out everyone and everything but me. “Unless you already knew about the sexual abuse?”

I am prepared for this. “Stephanie is a really private person.”

“So... you did know?”

“Just because we’re going through a rough patch right now doesn’t mean I’d betray her confidences. Violence against women, and particularly women of color, is a cause I feel very strongly about. I would never want to speak for Stephanie about her own experience.”

Erin frowns and nods:Fair enough. “Clearly, you still care about her. Does this mean we’ll get to see a reconciliation next season?”

I gaze at the old cash register in the corner. There’s still a dish of Bazooka Bubble Gum on the counter. I’d like to keep that, if possible. Some original touches as penance for the fresh hell of athleisure that’s about to rain down on this unsuspecting corner of an innocent fishing village. “It’s really up to her. She’s the one who is upset with me. Maybe it’s for all the reasons you said. I know she’s having her big moment with her memoir right now, a moment I want to make clear is well-deserved, but maybe she liked me better when I was theunderdog.”

Erin props her elbow on the folding table, resting her chin on her fist, giving me her bestI’m listeningeyes. “Or do you think it’s because you wouldn’t pass on an advance copy of her book to Rihanna?”

I do a double take. Not evenTMZknew about the Rihanna part. Yet.