Page 78 of Duty and Desire
But not with Mo.
Oh no.
Not with Mo.
Two, because he didn’t like strippers.
That was clear.
He might have been diplomatic during our first talk, though hehadindicated he had a problem with it.
And he was not mean to the girls at Smithie’s.
He was also not friendly.
Then of course there was that part of his outburst, the part I likedthe best(not), where he’d said,Every night, you dance, and you got a huge room full of men gagging for it.
He thought I got off on it.
And okay, if I took a second to calm down and reflect (which I didnot), there might be something about that.
It still wasn’t cool he threw it in my face and the way he did.
But I knew that about myself.
I liked attention.
When I was younger, I went to LA to become an actress.
I ended up Queen of the Corvette Calendar because, first, how kickass was that? And second, I sucked at acting. And last, there was an operative word in that title.
Queen.
My sister was quiet and sweet and responsible and hardworking, and everyone adored her.
But I was not any of that. Not even close.
This wasn’t sibling rivalry.
At least (if I was honest), not anymore.
And Jet didn’t getallthe attention, but everyone around us made sure she (and thus I) knew how awesome she was for being sweet and responsible and hardworking.
“Oh, what a good girl she is, looking after that wild sister of hers while Nancy’s at work,” and, “Oh, it just breaks my heart Jet had to get a job so she could help her momma out with the bills.”
That said, years ago (around about the time we were in a room when bullets were flying), I’d grown up enough to see that my sister didn’t have it all that great, what with our not-so-stellar life with a deadbeat dad who kept us all on a string with fancy plans and big promises.
I also saw how responsible and hardworking she’d had to be and that she’d sacrificed a lot for me.
I appreciated it.
And I loved her for it.
I also moved on.
From that.
Not so much the fact our dad was a loser.
