Page 81 of On the Beat

“Just that you’re working on some talent show,” I say, trying to remember what I did hear about it, exactly. I haven’t read anything on Twitter or checked social media in the months I’ve been gone, nor am I going to ask Isla for any more information. Her name shouldn’t hurt. What we had was a summer fling, not love. Well, a fall-to-winter fling. A pre-Christmas fling. It wasn’t anything that could really leave a mark, but I feel like it has. “How’s that been going? Must be a change of pace from La Mode.”

Her eyes narrow the slightest bit. “Are you here to rub it in my face that I got fired fromLa Mode?”

“How did you get fired?” The jet lag begins to settle on my shoulders–or maybe it’s the weight of everything, of real life that I tried to hold at bay, only for it to come crashing back in like the tide. Impossible to delay.

“It’s because I wrote something rather… unflattering about my boss, and she found out that it was me.”

“Muse Unmasked,” I say. I’m about to stop myself from sayingI told you so, but what else are siblings for? “I knew that blog would come back to bite you.”

“I knew you were going to say that.” She scowls as she finishes her rosé and sets down the empty glass on the counter. “It all worked out for good, eventually. I mean, I have this TV show with Naoya–”

“Wait, did you say the TV show is withNaoya?” I repeat. I cannot conceive of my sister and Naoya Sugawa in the same room together–or even at the same party–let alone the same TV screen.

“I know you hate him, but he’s not that bad of a guy.” She picks at a dried reddish-brown stain on the countertop, which is either blood or barbecue sauce. Considering how clumsy Poppy is with knives, it could really be either. “He got me the fashion stylist job when I was down on my luck–”

“And because it has strings attached. He has an agenda and he doesn’t care who he hurts to achieve his goals.” As I speak the words, I realize… that they also apply to Poppy. The little sister I’m trying to protect. Or, apparently, the little sister I never knew, because she’s all grown up and she’s now someone entirely different. Someone I don’t know at all. “Maybe you’d know something about that.”

“Ry,” she says, admonishing. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you two to get along, or at least pretend to.”

“No, but it won’t kill me to be mean to him, either.” I take another sip of my water, wishing I’d asked her for the beer.

“Think of it as a business opportunity,” she says, finally getting the stain off the countertop. “If the two of you performed together at, say, the Grammy’s or something, you could harness the power of your combined fanbase to do something amazing. Plus, the press would be all over it.Forever feuding pop stars finally reconcile! Who doesn’t love that story?”

“You are awfully good at packaging my life into a pretty little story for everyone to read.”

Poppy rolls her eyes. “I thought you were over it.”

“I’m never going to be over this.”

“Geez, didn’t know you were still that same emo kid you were back in high school.”

“It was a Goth phase, and I–” I stop myself. Those were also my lifeguarding days, and thinking about those reminds me of Isla and our kiss in the pool. When is everything going to stop reminding me of her? “I got you a souvenir.”

“So you brought back more than that God-awful sunburn?” she says.

“If you’re going to be a jerk about it, then I guess I won’t give it to you.” I don’t know who else I would give it to–maybe Mia Rose?–but I would have to give it to someone else. “Here.”

I fish out the little bag with the scarf in it from my suitcase and pass it to her.

She takes it gingerly, pulling out the scarf like it might be a snake. “What’s this?”

“A scarf,” I say flatly.

“Yeah, I knew that,” she says. “Smartass.”

We sink far too easily into our bickering siblings’ roles. When I was toddling after River, idolizing him or hating him, Poppy would be off doing her own thing. She was always in her own world, sketching fashion designs on a notepad or taking up embroidery, of all things. I guess both of those hobbies serve her well now. However, I would annoy her when River left me alone to go hang out with his older, cooler friends, away from his annoying little brother. Bored with River gone, I would play coin tosses or cards or board games with Poppy, which inevitably ended in one of us accusing the other of cheating.

“So…” I change the subject, wary of becoming too comfortable around Poppy. “What do you think of it?”

She loops the scarf around her neck. It ought to clash horribly with her outfit and the pink streak dyed in her hair, but, on her, it works. “I like it. You have a good eye, surprisingly.”

“Good enough to join your TV show?”

She scowls. “Notthatgood.”

“Alright, I’ll take what I can get.” I shrug, finishing my water. “Do you really enjoy working with Naoya? I mean… from what I’ve seen of him over the years, he’s just another Hollywood playboy who has girls fawning all over him.”

“I assure you that I haven’t done anything remotely similar to fawning over your worst enemy.” She shakes her head. “He’s not really my type.”

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