The Sister Code (D.O.R.K Book 2)

by Haley Allison

  Sleeping in my old bed has reminded me just how spoiled I am now. This twin mattress feels tiny, rigid, and lumpy compared to my king-sized memory foam mattress at home in L.A. I need to be reminded often how lucky I am. When the media makes me feel like running back here, all I need to do is remember this feeling and maybe I’ll think twice. I’m so glad I only have to spend one more night here.

  Yesterday, Dad explained something to me when I asked why he needed money so badly Cass suggested selling things from the mansion. Seventeen years of taking just enough money from his accounts to run a farm drained his finances some, but really it’s because he gave so much away to charity. I had no idea there’s a building named after him in New York. He didn’t even take me to see it. The money we’re using now is actually Cass’s money. She chose to invest hers and is now a billionaire. She gave Dad way more than he asked for as soon as we got to L.A. We’ll never need to make money again, although I plan to give some back to Dad when I start my own career.

  I’m torn between wanting to be like Dad and wanting to be like Cass. Dad was generous with his money, but Cass was effin’ smart. Maybe I could do both—give some to charity and keep some for myself to invest. I dunno. It’s something to think about.

  ***

  Before I can finish my post, a sharp knock comes at my door. I rub my eyes and press the home button on my iPhone to check the time. It’s two in the morning already. I can’t imagine who would be bothering me at this hour.

  “Come in?”

  Much to my surprise, Raven peeks her head around the door. “Hey, can I join you in here? I noticed a light on under your door.”

  I chuckle. “The Redinger insomnia strikes again, eh?”

  Raven responds with a dramatic eye roll as she sinks down on the side of my bed. “More like impossible sleeping arrangements. I’m really missing the gigantic beds at Grandmum’s right now.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  She pokes her head around the side of my screen and I promptly slam the laptop shut. “I didn’t know you had a blog.”

  Nosey. Snooping on my laptop screen…I guess I’m not allowed to keep anything a secret anymore.

  “Uh…it’s private. I don’t share it.”

  “What do you write in it?” Raven presses.

  “Just stuff…life…experiences…”

  “So it’s a diary?”

  Fuck. She guessed it. Now Raven knows about my diary. I see many, many ways this could come back to bite me in the future. Now that she’s seen it, I can’t exactly lie.

  “Yeah, it’s a diary.”

  She chuckles condescendingly. “How adorable. I suppose that’s a slight step up from the diaries you lock with a key.”

  I set the laptop to the side and sigh. “Did you have something you wanted to talk to me about?”

  Raven twists her hands in her lap. “Actually, I did want to ask you something. I overheard you talking to Mike about your music dreams.” She glances up at me with a questioning gaze. “You can actually sing?”

  My arrogant half-grin creeps onto my face. “That’s not the half of it. I play guitar too.”

  Her eyes widen. “What happened in London, then?”

  “I got drunk. Dad sings badly when drunk, and apparently I do too.”

  “Wow…so you’re just like him, then.”

  “Well, sort of.” I cross my legs and lean forward, finally enjoying a conversation with Raven for once. “I want to be a lead guitarist instead of a lead singer. I can sing, but I consider myself more of backup vocals.”

  She studies me intently. “Why haven’t you fixed this yet, then?”

  “Fixed what?”

  Raven angles her body to face me straight on. “Why haven’t you released another video of your real singing voice? You could have redeemed yourself the day it happened.”

  I gnaw on my lower lip. I had thought of that, but it’s hard to explain why I haven’t done it yet. “I dunno…I guess I just didn’t want my musical debut to be a solo video.”

  “Isn’t it a little late for that?”

  I shrug. My twin does make a painfully valid point. “I’m starting a band with Dalton Jacobs. I just wanted to wait to make music again in front of the world until that happened.”

  Pain sparks across her features at the mention of his name. “Dalton Jacobs?”

  “Yeah. He’s the frontman and I’m the lead guitar. We don’t have anyone else yet, but—”

  “No.”

  My eyebrow arches with surprise. “Excuse me?”

  “You cannot be in a band with him. I forbid it,” Raven growls, her eyes shooting bullets.

  For a moment, I’m stunned speechless. Then I scoff and fold my arms tightly across my chest. “You can’t control who I do or don’t start a band with, Raven.”

  “If you associate with Dalton Jacobs, our deal is off. That disgrace of a person is dead to me and he should be to you too.”

  My jaw hangs wide open. Did she really just call him a disgrace? I swing my legs off the side of the bed and spring up to pace the room.

  This is so unfair. I’ve done so much, given up so much for this deal, and now she’s trying to take away the one thing I was looking forward to after getting out of this dump. No way is she getting away with this. It’s time to exercise my rights in this relationship. She said we could do this according to my terms, and so far we’ve only been going by hers.

  I spin around to face her and let her have it.

  “You know what? No. I broke up with Gio for you. I changed my appearance for you. I faked a magical fairy-tale twin bond for you. You have dominated nearly every aspect of my life for the past three weeks, and I have been cooperative, but this? This is my dream, and I’m not going to let you stomp all over it.”

  I ball my fists at my sides and stand firm in front of her, feeling a surge of confidence from somewhere deep in my core.

  “Do you have any idea how long I’ve dreamed of being in a band? Half my life. Yeah, I could do it with someone else, but I gave my word to Dalton and I’m not about to disappoint him. Besides, I know he’s the one I’m supposed to do this with. I felt it in my gut the first day we met, and I’m not a person who can say ‘no’ to destiny. You can tell me who to date, what to wear, what to say, and how to act, but you cannot tell me what to do with my life. Dalton and I are going to be band mates. If that’s unacceptable to you, then fine. This deal is over.”

  I stalk to my bedroom window to stare out the open blinds at the soft silver moon illuminating the hills. My jaw is clenched and my arms are folded in front of me again. She just touched a part of my life I won’t allow anyone to dominate.

  I hear Raven stand from the bed and rustle in my direction. When she speaks, her voice is soft and resigned.

  “Fine.”

  I whirl around to face her, shocked. “Huh?”

  She shrugs. “You win. I won’t interfere with your music dreams again. Just don’t let this band overrun your school responsibilities and I won’t say another word about it.”

  That was too easy. I eye her with skepticism. “You mean that?”

  She forces a smile and nods. “Of course. I understand how much you’ve given up for me. I won’t bother you any more tonight.” She turns around without another word and exits into the hallway, leaving a closed door and a flabbergasted sister behind her.

  ***

  In the morning, the smell of Nana’s fresh-baked cinnamon buns kisses my senses and I immediately spring into action. I take the fastest shower in the history of mankind and get dressed, not bothering to dry my hair before twisting it into a braid. When I look in the mirror, I smile, seeing the carefree Southern girl from just a few months ago again. It’s nice to know I can still be that Mads even though I don’t want to be her all the time anymore.

  I race down the stairs, happy to see I’m the first one there. Nana patters through the kitchen, grumbling something under her breath as she brings plates to the table.

  “Can I
help you with anything, Nana?”

  “Hmm?” Her frizzled head pops up as if she just noticed I’m here. “Oh no, Mads. Thank you.”

  That was an uncharacteristically polite response coming from her. “Everything all right?”

  “Yes, it’s just…” Nana huffs and halts in her tracks, attaching her knobby hands to her hips. “That twin of yours is insufferable.”

  My jaw drops. “What did she do this time?”

  “She saw breakfast wasn’t ready and demanded to know when it would be done. I told her it takes as long as it takes. She asked what kind of cook I am if I don’t know the timin’ for my own recipe. I said the kind of cook who won’t serve disrespectful turds who don’t appreciate what they’re given, and she stormed out the door.”

  Holding my aching stomach, I explode with laughter. Poor Nana had no idea who she was dealing with. As soon as I’ve gotten myself under control, I cross into Nana’s no-pass zone and engulf her small frame in a hug. She tenses against me at first, but then she squeezes me back and whispers in my ear:

  “I think I’ve been spoilt all these years with you.”

  I tighten my grip around her shoulders. It’s nice to know I haven’t been replaced around here.

  “Miss you, Nana.”

  “Don’t be a stranger, child.”

  I kiss her weathered cheek. “I won’t. I promise.”

  Chapter 10

  August 28, 2015

  Back in L.A.

  We’ve been back in L.A. for nearly a week now. The week started with paparazzi gathered by our front gate day and night. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out they’re still hyping up the story of my big screw-up as much as possible. I’m getting really annoyed with how much they’re stalking us. I am seriously not worth this much interest. They’re trying to get a comment from me, but the only comment I’ve given them is a sign I hang from my balcony that reads—in big, black, unmistakable letters—

  “Here’s a comment…fuck off!”

  That sign went viral, by the way. Now whenever someone wants to flip a royal bird to someone on the web, they use my sign. I think that’s the most flattering thing that’s happened to me on the internet so far.

  Anyway, I might as well get used to it. I’m going to be famous for all the wrong things until I release my first music video with Dalton. We met up the other day to discuss audition plans. He was so excited he hugged me before he left. Finally, our dreams are coming into concrete terms. Auditions. Selections. Rehearsals. Recordings. It’s all going to lead to that glorious day when I step on stage and yell:

  “How do you like me now, bitches?”

  I take a lot of comfort in the words Ana said to me at her house that day.

  “You just need to show the rest of the world that drunk singing incident was just a fluke.”

  People might be laughing at me now, but someday I’ll be laughing at them. They’ve been judging me by my cover ever since I stepped foot in this town. I can’t wait to show everyone just how wrong they were about me.

  Mission RTW: Rock The World is a go. I’m not quite sure what the steps are going to be yet. At least I know Step 1: Find two more people with passion and talent to match ours. It’s going to be a challenge, but I’m fully confident the right guys or girls will come along.

  Tomorrow we’re going to listen to some of the top contenders for the drummer position. I think my heart might drown out their sound. I’m already battling sweaty palms.

  Gotta try to get some sleep. Damn the Redinger insomnia…

  Ttyl,

  Mads

  ***

  Soft track lighting illuminates shiny black leather couches and a cherry wood coffee table. Dad’s open beer bottles sit atop a shiny silver tray that’s probably supposed to house champagne. Red and blue lights liven up the front of the room, where a brand new black drum kit awaits our future drummer. I stand in front of the stage and survey our new rehearsal studio, blinking back tears.

  Dad rented this room for Dalton and me. Not only is he going to keep paying for it, but he’s also going to come to our rehearsals when asked and help us get this thing together. Cass is here too, so all four of us—Dalton, Dad, Cass, and me—are going to judge these potential drummers together. Having the Grim Weeper and Black Angel with us as we pick our new band mates makes me certain we’ll find the right people. My dreams have never felt so real, so tangible. It’s like that star with my name on it is right within reach.

  Dad and Cass take one couch and Dalton and I take the other. The people auditioning are due to show up one right after another—five-minute auditions, five-minute breaks in-between—and they only get one shot at impressing us. Dad suggests we take notes on our iPads so we’ll remember who we liked and why. I open my Notes app and straighten my back against the couch when the first guy—a grungy, emo type—walks in the door and introduces himself.

  ***

  Several auditions roll by, and I’m already starting to get names, faces, and styles mixed up in my head. That’s not a good sign…if they’re not memorable to me, the audience isn’t going to be impressed, either. I don’t want to tell Dalton he picked a bunch of duds, but honestly? These people are mediocre at best. I’m starting to doubt his ear for drum beats when a gift from the heavens strolls in.

  My eyes roam up and down his stunning personage as he struts into the room with an adorable lopsided grin on his face. His black structured zip-up jacket and the chain around his neck give him a rock star vibe without being too edgy or screaming for attention. He catches my gaze and his smile falters. I can almost see the sweat beading on his forehead.

  I swear I’ve seen this guy before. Dark brown hair, green eyes, the face of a Greek god…

  Ho-ly shit.

  It’s my mystery guy from New York City.

  I watch intently as Dalton runs up to the guy and gives him a huge guy hug—the kind with all the slapping and grunting and general “trying to prove I’m a man but still show affection” stuff. Dalton turns toward us to introduce our last candidate of the day.

  “Mike, Cass, Mads—allow me to introduce my cousin, Logan Caldwell.”

  I can’t keep my eyes from bulging out of my head. His cousin? This is almost too coincidental to be real.

  “I saved him for last—partly because I wasn’t sure if he’d be coming—but mostly because I wanted you all to hear how superior he is without thinking I’m biased and brushing him off. This dude is the shit when it comes to drumming. I don’t think I’ve ever met a better drummer in person. Please look past the fact that he’s my cousin and give us your honest feedback. I think you’ll be pleased.” Dalton gives him a hearty thump on the back and walks toward the back of the room again.

  “Hi, everyone.” Logan greets us in a shaky, deep voice as Dalton returns to his seat.

  I’ve been rendered speechless, so Dad takes over the situation for me.

  “Hi, Logan. Can you tell us a little more about yourself? How did you get into music?”

  Logan straightens his posture and addresses us with renewed confidence. “Well, sir, music has been my dream since I was five years old. I had a kiddy drum set I used to play with and annoy the hell out of my mom. She got me a real one when I was twelve and I’ve been playing ever since.”

  “And how old are you now?”

  “I just turned twenty-one a week ago.”

  My heart flutters. Twenty-one isn’t too bad. I was worried he was a lot older than me.

  Dad nods at his admission. “Why are you not in a band now?”

  “I was in a band—a metal band—and we were about to get signed, but then the lead singer knocked up his girlfriend and our label decided we were too much of an insurance risk.”

  I can see the pain in his eyes when he talks about his previous band. It must have been hard to be so close to your dream and have it ripped away like that.

  “This is my second chance, so I swear I won’t let it go to waste,” Logan continues. “If you accept me, this
band will be my number one commitment in life. I live in New York City with my girlfriend right now, but I’d drop everything and move to L.A. in a heartbeat if you asked me to.”

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat. The amount of disappointment I feel at learning he has a girlfriend is unreasonable and frightening. I chastise myself inwardly at my attachment to a guy I’ve only met a total of two times.

  “All right, let’s hear what you can do,” Dad says. He leans back on the couch and starts on his final beer as Logan steps behind the drum kit.

  Logan sits down and rolls his shoulders out. The sweat beads on his forehead grow and trickle down toward his eyebrows. I can see the labored movement of his chest as he picks up the drumsticks. Not only is he hot—in more ways than one—but his movement is restricted by that jacket. I really want to see that green dragon tattoo again. I can see teasing hints of his biceps under his sleeves, but I’m left wanting more, and it’s driving me crazy.

  Come on, take it off. You know you want to.

  Take the jacket off.

  “Take the jacket off.”

  Logan freezes mid-strike and stares at me openmouthed. So does everyone else in the room. I’ve gone and shocked everyone by acting like a total dumbass yet again. I really can’t do anything right, can I?

  Fire ignites in my cheeks and neck. I gulp down saliva and stammer out the first follow-up I can think of.

  “Free up your arms. That structured jacket is limiting your arm movement. You need to be uninhibited right now.”

  I hear a collective “oh” in the room and feel relief rush over every tendon in my body. Logan unzips his jacket and shrugs it off. I’m gratified that he’s wearing a plain black tank top underneath. His arms truly are stunning. The dragon tattoo on his left arm starts with the head down near the crook of his elbow and continues up onto his chest. I can’t help but wonder what the rest of it looks like.

  Logan rolls his sturdy shoulders once again and sighs with relief. “That does feel a lot better. Thanks.”