Page 14 of The Photograph

My sister is a beautician in an upmarket salon and makes tons in tips alongside working with her own clients on the side whom she visits in their homes. What women pay for theirnails in this town is unreal, and she’s excellent at it and no doubt chatty and fun with her customers. However, it’s also true that it’s hard living on her kind of salary in New York. So, I understand, but if I gave her a hundred dollars right now she’d either spend it on clothes or cocktails.

“Who are you hiding from?”

This gets me a huge, guileless smile. “I met this amazing guy, Des!”

They’re always amazing according to Marla.

“An MMA fighter. He’s so talented, and just about to break into the big time.”

They’re always just about to do something, too.

“This opportunity came up with a promoter to do some modeling that was too good to pass up. He just needed a couple of grand for a photo shoot and some other stuff, so I gave him my rent for the month.”

She gave him her rent?Holy shit.

“Anyway, some rivals have got it in for him, so we need somewhere to lie low.”

“We?”

She jerks her head. “He’s outside.”

“No. No, Marla. I am not having some MMA fighter staying here who’s ‘hiding,’ okay?”

Is she nuts? Imagine the kind of people who might turn up. Jesus, every time I help my family out, it’s a bucketload of trouble. She pulls out her phone.

“I knew you’d say that,” she says, muttering into her screen.

“What are you doing?”

“Texting to tell him he can’t stay here. He’s got a buddy in Brooklyn he can crash with.”

“Why can’t you crash there?”

She scowls up at me mouth open as her face starts to go red. “Jesus, your own sister. Just chuck me under a bus, why don’tyou? He’ll be sleeping on the couch there, that’s why. At least here I thought we’d have a proper bed in your spare room.”

I sigh and point my finger at her. “You can live here for a bit, but he’s never here and you’re keeping the place tidy, and cooking and cleaning. No leaving your shit lying around.”

She makes a face at me and tosses her hair. “God, treat me like a slave, why don’t you?”

If only I thought she’d do any of it.

“I don’t want you interfering and poking your nose into things, either. I’ve got a lot of trouble at work at the moment, and I don’t need more from you.”

She blinks innocently at me. “When have I ever caused you trouble? I know you like to pretend your family doesn’t all rely on you, Des, but we do.”

Yeah, get in line behind everyone else, I think. And I can guarantee some shit is going to go down with Marla, I just have no idea when it’s going to hit me.

7

DES

Four days into what I’m now calling the Marla experiment, I’m glowering across the rows of bent heads in the office, drumming my fingers against my desk. No sign of my partner in crime, James, and he was off yesterday: I have no idea why. I’ve never paid much attention to his absences before, but my chest feels like it’s in a vice at the moment.Today has to be better.Things can’t get much worse, can they? The team is dividing into several factions: the I-have-a-problem-with-gay-guysfaction, the don’t-bother-me-and-just-pay-my-wagefaction, and the I-think-Des-is-an-okay-guy faction. I’m giving most of my time and attention to the last lot and ignoring the rest. Where do I even start with those that have an issue with gay people? The time on my monitor says 10 a.m. Jo raises an eyebrow at me over her screen.

“How are you doing?” she says.

“How are you doing more like,” I nod at her swollen belly. “I’m beyond excited to see a little Janus with red hair.”

She laughs at this and runs her hand over her stomach. “At least I’m over the sickness now.”

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