"Geez," Fig says. "You never know. Someone might come into town and sweep your little sister off her feet."
"Are you talking about you or Lemon?" I tease.
Fig smiles. "I'm never getting married," she says. "I'm going to be single forever. Living in Paris, smoking cigarettes, and sipping on gin. It's going to be glorious."
"And what are you going to do in Europe?" I ask.
"I'm going to be a fashion designer," she says with a flourish. "Speaking of, I have the most amazing outfits for you." She opens her bag and begins holding up different dresses for me to choose from. "I didn't know if you were a velvet kind of girl, or more of a silk girl, but I mean, with your body, you could really wear anything. Speaking of, what kind of work do you do?"
"I'm a gymnast," I tell her as simply as possible.
"Really?" Her eyes widen, impressed. "That's, like, a real job?"
"Yeah," I snort. "It's a real job. I can do all sorts of stunts."
"Wow, that's amazing. Can you show me something?"
"Uh, sure," I say, and then I look around Bartlett’s room, noticing the rail across the loft. I walk up the flight of stairs and climb up to the railing.
"Stop," Bartlett cries. "Don't get up there. You'd be twenty feet in the air!"
"I'm fine," I laugh.
Fig shakes her head. "What are you doing, Abby? You're going to kill yourself."
"Sorry," I grimace. "I told you I was a gymnast."
Fig has shock written on her face. "My God. You're going to break your neck."
I shrug. And, instead of climbing on top of the railing, I walk back down the stairs. "Fine," I say. "I won't show you my tricks."
Fig doesn't think I am being serious and just laughs. "Okay. You're super crazy. Also, you're perfect for Bart because he is so straight and narrow, he needs a crazy girl like you."
I scrunch up my nose, thinking she has no idea. She thinks her brother is all wound up tight, but a little bit ago, when he was in the shower with me, he was nice and easy.
I lick my lips, thinking if Bartlett was going to see me in a dress, he'd probably prefer me in something tight. "I'd say silk," I tell her, pointing to the tiniest dress out of the options.
Fig nods. "It's going to look stunning on you. And I have tights and heels, and a little fur coat. Come on," she says, scooching me down the hall. "It's time for you to get dressed."
Thirty minutes later, Fig has me decked out in the most glamorous look I've ever had on. She's even curled my hair a bit, and my eyelashes, and added some mascara for good measure. "I don't think your brother's going to recognize me," I tell her.
She smiles. "He's going to love it," she says. "Besides, Bartlett needs a reason to have a little sparkle in his life."
"Why do you say that?" I ask.
"I don't know. He's always been the good guy, done the right thing. Maybe it's just time for him to have some fun."
"I'm more than fun," I say.
"I know," Fig says, "but you can be good and fun, and I think maybe he needs both."
"So, you approve? Because Rye doesn't."
"Oh, Rye doesn't know anything," she says. "He's a big bossy boy who knows nothing about the real world."
I fight back a smile. The baby of the family might be the smartest one of all. "Thank you for helping me," I tell her. "I’m an only child, so I don't know what it's like to get ready with sisters and have siblings drop by, but I appreciate it."
She grins. "Well, my sister is super bossy, and most of my brothers are too. So I appreciate having anicegirl around for a change," she says haughtily, giving me a wink and blowing me a kiss.