Page 11 of Playing Dirty
I smooth my hands down my hips and step back through the French doors into the manor. Solstice's main building is the kind of historic stone estate that wouldn't look out of place on the cover ofArchitectural Digest, with soaring ceilings, exposed beams, and arched windows that frame the vineyards in every direction. I cut through the lobby, past the reception desk, and slip into the staff corridor.
I'm heading for my office when I spot my younger sister, Sabrina, perched on the counter of the staff break room. Where my wardrobe is doing its best Olivia-Pope-meets-Audrey-Hepburn impression, Sabrina dresses like a ray of sunshine that got dipped in a kaleidoscope.
Today she's in a rhinestone tie-dye t-shirt with a matching yellow bejeweled eyeshadow look, almost certainly inspired by a Zara Larsson music video. Sabrina considers her a sort of spiritual north star.
She is, objectively, much cooler than I am, which I've happily made peace with.
"I’m not being rude, but what are you doing here?" I ask, checking my watch with a spike of nerves. Cillian is due in the lobby any second.
"I left my keys at Marco's and the spare wasn't in the porch frog, so I had to track you down." She beams. "Luckyyou, getting a dose of me this early."
I scrunch my nose at the mention of Marco. He's the latest drummer-with-a-motorcycle boyfriend, and I haven't quite warmed to him. Sabrina moved into my spare room to save money while she finishes her film degree, so she's at my place most nights, apart from the occasional ones she spends at his.
We get along so well that I’m secretly hoping she never moves out, even after she graduates. The only real downsides are Marco and the fact that she manages to lose her house key roughly every two weeks.
I dig the extra spare out of my pocket, the one I keep on me specifically for her. "I told you the key is under the frog in the herb garden. Thecuteone. Not the big stone frog at the front door."
“Margot.” She holds out a hand for the key. "I cannot be hunting amphibians all morning. I am a woman with errands. By which I mean I need a nap after Marco's show last night."
"You are absurd.” I drop the key into her palm. “I love you. Go now, please."
"I will," she says, still not moving. She cranes her neck to look past me. "I just want to see if Mr. Hottie is here yet."
"Not a chance.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I need thisthing to be quick and seamless so I can get him out of my hair as soon as possible."
She wrinkles her nose. "Why are you wine tasting so early anyway? It’s a bitMad Mento be drinking at breakfast, don't you think?"
"Believe me, a morning tasting is the last thing I wanted, but we had to accommodate his impossible schedule," I say. "Besides, his sips will be minuscule. His manager said he barely drinks during the season. Just one more reason why making him the face of this is borderline ridiculous."
She nods. "Well maybe he'll surprise you."
"Hmm. By the way, how exactly did you get into the staff wing?" I ask, eyeing her with suspicion.
She presses a hand to her chest. "I am beloved by your front desk. Janelle and I arebestie status. Besides, I just met the lovely Celeste, who has been keeping me company."
I glance up just in time to see Celeste come around the corner from the copier, iPad tucked under one arm, and an empty coffee mug in her free hand. Her curly chestnut hair is up in a clip, and there's that galaxy of freckles across her nose that I've envied since the day I met her.
"Oh, hey," she says, smiling at me.
"Good morning. I see you've met my sister."
"We have bonded, yes." Celeste lifts her mug in salute. "She is delightful."
Celeste is the lead architect from the firm handling our upcoming renovation, and in the few weeks she's been on-site, we've become fast friends. She's the kind of effortlessly cool woman who can sketch a fix to a structural problem in fifteen seconds flat and also school anyone's ass at pool. So I’m really hoping to lock in a friendship.
"See?" Sabrina gestures toward her. "Avoiding trouble. Cultivating relationships. I'm on my absolute best behavior."
I shake my head, a smile tugging at my lips, until I finallyregister what my sister is actually wearing. What I'd mistaken for abstract rhinestone patterns on her t-shirt are, in fact, bedazzled nipples, complete with the wordsTwin Peakslooping underneath in delicate cursive.
"Sabrina." I rub my temple, feeling a fresh headache brewing. "My love. My ride or die. You did not just wear that t-shirt to my job."
"It's a David Lynch reference," she says, sounding very serene. "Celesteunderstood it."
"In my defense," Celeste adds, looking up from starting a pot of coffee, "I'm an enjoyer of both clever wordplay and the TV show."
I shake my head. "Listen, I am all for dismantling puritanical nonsense. Free the nipple, all of it. But maybe not at my place of employment. Carol might be cool, but some of the board members are not."
Sabrina hops off the counter, gathering her bag. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I promise I'll sneak out without causing any kind of scandal."
