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You guessed correctly.
More of all that to come.
Nelle chose the black dress because black was all she owned. And it was funeral. A funeral for her sister.
Thalia is dead! She was shot to death! Someone shot up the pizza place! Apparently someone was after some bikers and Thalia got shot! Oh my god, Nelle, I’m going to lose my mind! Please… please get here right now! PLEASE!
The screeching of her other sister—Calista—made Nelle hurry up and prep to leave. Bucky Bonzy owned the offbeat, off-the-path antique store, which gave Nelle a place to live, hide, and work. He rarely asked questions, and as long as Nelle brought in money, Bucky remained happy and mostly quiet.
She woke Bucky up around midnight that night. And he was pissed, at first. As soon as Nelle said her sister had been murdered, two things happened.
First—Bucky told Nelle to do whatever she needed to do.
Second—Bucky had no idea Nelle had a sister.
That’s the fucking point!Nelle had yelled in her head. She assured everything would be okay with the antique store. Then she left for Cielo.
Thalia had worked at a pizza place. Her version of staying quiet and hidden. Calista…? She was a groupie for musicians that passed through town.
Anyone with an imagination could assume what the wordgroupiemeant. And no offense to Calista, but she had no real talent or skills. That told Nelle more than enough about her other sister and her life.
But that’s how it went for theCooke Girls.They were all beautiful. Insanely beautiful. Runway model beautiful. Super model beautiful. Stunningly natural in every way possible.What could have been…
Not that anything but reality mattered now. That’s a lesson Nelle took to heart. That’s why crying over Thalia’s murder really hadn’t happened.
There was shock. There was anger. But tears?
Nelle stared at herself in the mirror in Calista’s bedroom. There were pictures stuck all along the mirror ofrock starsand Calista. Not that Nelle claimed to be a musician expert… she had no fucking idea who any of these guys were.
Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter one bit.
Nelle wanted to cry. She begged herself to cry. She kept telling herself over and over that her sister had been shot to death.
Shot to death! Murdered!
On the other side of the wall where the mirror rested, Calista found herself looking into a mirror too. She had no problem crying. She had no problem withother thingstoo. A plethora of noises worked their way through the wall, catching Nelle’s attention.
As Nelle opened the bathroom door she found her nowonly sisterhunched over, sniffing a thick, snow-like line of cocaine.
Calista’s eyes looked at her sister and she popped halfway up. “Want the rest?”
Without giving a definitive answer, Nelle lunged toward the sink. Calista jumped back, afraid for a second. Nelle’s hand swiped against the sink, sending the cocaine into the sink. She turned on the water. That made Calista scream.
“What the fuck?!”
Nelle looked at her sister. She was instantly thrown back in time…
It’s the week of Christmas.
One of the rare weeks when things aren’t so bad.
Dad is drinking, yes, but he’s sipping wine in a big glass, wearing a silly looking sweater with a Christmas tree on it. And we’re baking cookies!
It’s me. It’s Calista. It’s Thalia.
Thalia has pigtails and stands on a step stool and just wants to eat the chocolate chip morsels.
Normally Dad would tell us not to eat too much so we don’t get fat. But the week of Christmas, it doesn’t matter. We can eat. We can be happy.
