Book 0.5 - Page 2 (1/2)

Now I snort. “Says the picky girl who won’t even touch cheese.”

Kylie ignores me, focusing instead on the schedule for today. “You’ve got the shoot at”—she rolls her dark eyes, drags out her iPhone, and punches the screen a few times—“10:30. Three or four days . . . as long as everyone cooperates.”

Meaning Sinjin’s not messed up out of his mind and Wyatt’s not f**king everything on set with a pu**y. I nod, suddenly aware that this shoot’ll probably take a good week or two just because my band can’t get their s.h.i.+t together long enough to make a decent video.

I clench my fist for a moment, before shutting the notebook I’d been working in before my sister showed up. Sensing my irritation, Kylie gives me a forced smile and pats my hand. Hers are sticky with donut icing, and my mouth drags into a frown.

“I’m sure it won’t be too bad.” But even as she tries to cheer me up, it’s easy to see that she’s still agitated. I wipe the back of my hand on the inside of my s.h.i.+rt and cast her the most pleasant look I can muster.

“You remember the last shoot, right?”

Kylie cringes but recovers fast. “I’ve heard they got a pretty actress for you to pretend sleep with.” Her voice takes on that high-pitched tone people use to lure their kids to the dentist.

“I’m jumping for f**king joy.”

“G.o.d, you suck. Too bad they can’t get a body double for you,” she says, reaching out to wipe her own hands down the front of my s.h.i.+rt. A low growl releases from the back of my throat and she looks up into my eyes, laughing—a genuine one. Then, Kylie stands, digging in her giant bag as she walks to the door. “Going to drop your laundry off at the cleaner and pick up your lame-a.s.s groceries.”

“Could you possibly sound any more miserable about that?” I ask.

She spins and grins widely, a cigarette dangling from the corner of her lips. Oh yeah, she’s p.i.s.sed—she hasn’t touched one in months. “Give me a raise and I’ll sound as cheerful as you want.”

I don’t remind her that she makes twenty bucks an hour because all she’ll do is give me s.h.i.+t and a million reasons why she deserves more.

When she comes back with bags of groceries and a dry cleaning receipt an hour later, I’m dressed. She looks less irritated than she did this morning, so I don’t bring it up as she drives me to the set where day one of shooting will take place. As we walk into the studio together, it’s obvious this is the last place she wants to be right now. She lags a few steps behind me, dragging her feet and making an annoying sc.r.a.ping noise across the concrete.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” I demand impatiently, tossing a glare over my shoulder at her.

Her face scrunches into a painful expression. “No, I just—”