“Believe me, they do,” she mumbles.
“Sacha Belle, what aren’t you telling me?”
“My parents and I had a disagreement.” She shrugs. “I decided to go solo, once they cut me off.”
“What? Where are you living?”
“In a basic and bland one-bedroom apartment in Willow Parish.”
“What the hell happened?” I ask, unable to imagine them going to such great lengths to prove a point.
She shakes her head, the lights from the track lighting above causing the blonde to stand out. “They wanted me to be the princess in the tower, and I wanted to be a dragon slayer. We’ve always held a tentative truce when it came to my future. It worked until they tried to push me into an arranged marriage with a Dupeux to keep the magical bloodlines strong and pure. I put my foot down, because one, if I marry, it’ll be for love, and two, can you imagine me saddled to one of those chauvinistic bastards? I’d cut his dick off and feed it to him.”
I snicker. “Yeah, you would.”
She scowls. “That family needs to come out of the dark ages. Between their racial prejudices, belief that they’re God’s gift to humanity, and inability to adapt to modernization, they’re in danger of extinction eventually.”
“We’re down to four main families as it is. The Blanchards may be neutral enough to marry with them, if nothing else,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “Not if they’re smart.”
“I can’t believe they did that, Sach.”
“You’ve no idea how lucky you are that you come from a matriarchal family.”
“Are you okay?” I ask
softly.
“Most days. Other times, I feel as if I haven’t a friend in the world. So despite the fact that I’m still pissed at you, I happily accept your offer to reconnect. ’Cause, let’s face it, you’re my sister, and family means forgiveness.”
I slump in my chair. We’ve got a lot of repairing to do, but the first hurdle has been jumped.
“Are you attached to the studio?”
She wrinkles her nose. I laugh. “Okay, I’ll take that as a no. Move in here with me. We’ve always wanted to be roomies, and I could use the help halving up bills.”
“I won’t take pity from anyone, Louella.”
“Sacha. I need this just as much as you do. I left behind the life I’d built, a business I love, and friends to come home to a family squabbling over power and resenting me for being next in line for the throne.”
“Did Mémé name you?” She leans in to the table.
“Not officially, but she’s made her intentions known. It’s a matter of time before it’s announced officially.”
Sacha whistles. “Came home to a hurricane, didn’t you?”
“Don’t sound so happy about it.”
She grins, causing her hazel-colored eyes to sparkle. “I’m not happy about it, roomie. I’m observing the irony of karma.”
“Wench.” There’s no bite to my word, and she winks.
“I’ll help you clean up, and we’ll go.” We fall into an easy rhythm as we clean. Things are far from okay, but this is a start.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m riding shotgun and feeling an intense case of nostalgia. We’d taken many a trip along these roads as teenagers. Cypress isn’t a happening town by any stretch of the imagination. We spent hours wasting gas driving and dreaming of life when we grew up.
I turn slightly in my seat to take in her profile. “Tell me more about this case.”