Chapter Thirteen
Mindy
The next two hours just fly by.
I carefully curl my hair and put on my makeup, lost in my own thoughts. Betty has gone out, leaving me alone with my preparations. Once my makeup is done, I take a moment to look in the mirror. I'm quite pleased with the results. I expected a lot worse, given the mess I’ve become lately.
"Sassy," I mumble to myself. Just one final step: slipping into the shimmering skirt-and-top suit and I'll be ready for tonight's mystery job that will hopefully solve my financial problems. Well, some of them.
I quickly scan the address that Kevin had sent over. Of course, the event is in SoHo, Manhattan - where else would it be? A gig that pays fifty grand for just a few hours of work can only happen in the city's most expensive neighborhood. I still have a little less than an hour before my Uber arrives to whisk me away to the venue.
A loud knock at the door stops my train of thought. It can only be Betty- the girl has the habit of forgetting her keys. Without bothering to put on any clothes, I head to the door wearing just my bra and panties.
"Seriously, Bets? You need to remember to take your keys," I grumble as I swing open the door. But to my surprise, it is not Betty standing in the doorway. "Alexis? Um… are you okay?" I ask, furrowing my brow at my sister's unexpected presence. She seems to have this nearly uncanny ability of showing up at the most inconvenient times.
My sister looks like she’s just been through hell. Her hair is tousled, her pupils are dilated, and she has the appearance of someone who hasn't slept for days.
“Are you going to invite me in, sis?” she asks, her speech a bit slurred. Her eyes travel down on my body. "Looks like you've put on some weight, Mindy." She drops herself on the couch. "Are you going on a date with someone who fancies curvy girls?"
Typical Alexis. I know she’s provoking me and I choose to ignore her comment. Instead, I return to the beauty table, pretending to continue my makeup as if I hadn't already finished.
"I don't have a lot of time, sis, so tell me in a few short sentences why you're visiting me out of the blue."
She clears her throat. "So… okay, I'll be quick, so I, uh… I need to borrow some more cash."
The mascara stops in my hand. "What for?" I ask, knowing exactly what she needs it for. "I want to know the real reason, Lex, not some fairy tale."
She looks at me with bloodshot eyes, her face contorted with desperation. "Because I'm sick. I was throwing up all night. I'm out of pills, Mindy, and I can't function without them."
"You know you can't keep doing this, Alexis," I say sternly, setting down my mascara with a heavy thud. "You need rehab."
She laughs bitterly, swaying on her feet. "Oh please, Mindy. Spare me the lecture. I don't need fucking rehab. What I need is money to get my pills and I'll be fine."
I'm really pissed now. I hate it when she behaves like this. Not to mention that I’m worried about her health. "You have a job, sis. A reputable job that pays well."
It’s true. Alexis is a journalist at StarDust, one of the biggest gossip magazines on the market. Want to be famous? Just pay top dollar for someone like my sister, and they'll feature you in StarDust.
"Celebrity Meltdown: A-List Actor's Public Breakdown Captured on Video!"
"Rising Star's Dark Past: Former Child Actress Opens Up About Troubled Youth!"
Don't want to be famous for all the wrong reasons? Pay even more to a gossip journalist like my sister, and they'll keep their mouths shut.
How nobody at StarDust has noticed her addiction is a mystery to me. Maybe all journalists are surviving on pills because of the high-stress environment they’re in.
"Seriously, Lex. What are you spending all your money on?" I inquire. "Don't tell me you're wasting it all on drugs."
"I'm not wasting it on drugs," she corrects me. "I'm spending it on painkillers ." She emphasizes the word. "To keep my sanity. To stay alive. You know I need them, Mindy. And you know, why I need them."
Here we are again. I was starting to wonder when she’d make that comment. Alexis never fails to redirect the discussion towards making me feel guilty. But this time, I choose not to take the bait.
"In other words," I tell her, "you've become addicted to those painkillers and you can no longer function without them. Sounds like a rehab situation to me."
She cuts me off. "Mindy, please." She starts to tremble, reaching out to grab onto me for support. "Just one last time."
I resist. "I stopped counting your last times, sister."
But she begs on. "I promise I'll get help after this. But right now, I'm sick as fuck and I'm going to throw up on your lovely white carpet."
"I'm sorry, Alexis," I say firmly. "My answer is no. I can't keep enabling you like this. If you want my support, you need to get yourself clean first. Book yourself in for rehab, then we can talk." I reach for my lipstick and begin applying it carefully. "And now, I need to finish my makeup." As I’m applying lipstick, it comes out as ‘ I need to penis my makeup’ . A fun little distraction from my sister's crap.
But Alexis doesn’t get the unintended pun. She begins to tremble violently, a telltale sign that her withdrawal symptoms are imminent. Or maybe she’s pretending. I’m not sure I can tell the difference anymore. "This is your fucking fault, Mindy! You were driving that fucking car!"
I let out a deep sigh. This is what our relationship boils down to. A vicious cycle that plays out over and over again. My sister brings up the accident, twists the knife in me where it hurts most, and when she doesn’t get her desired reaction, she erupts in anger and blames me for everything, even though I'm already consumed with guilt.
"You and Emily, Mom's favorite twin girls! Little Mindy and sweet little Emily! And me? The ugly duckling, the third one who stood out like a fucking sore thumb all my life! It's your fucking fault, Mindy, you drove that car, you killed Emily, you caused Mom's cancer, and all my fucking pain! And when I'm asking you to help alleviate it, you refuse to help!"
I feel the air rush out of my lungs like I've been punched in the gut. The weight of her words, the sheer hatred and resentment behind them, is too much to bear even after all these years. I want to scream, cry, and lash out at her for daring to lay the blame for everything at my feet. But I don’t. I can't. Because deep down, I believe her. Deep down, I always believed that I was responsible for the tragedy that tore our family apart.
I take a shaky breath, trying to compose myself. "Alexis, I... I know you're hurting. I know you feel like everything has been unfair to you. But blaming me, blaming anyone, isn't going to change what happened. It's not going to bring Emily back, and it's not going to cure Mom's cancer. And it sure as hell isn't going to fix your addiction."
She glares at me, her eyes filled with a hatred that I've never seen before. "Fuck you, Mindy. Fuck you and your self-righteous bullshit. You have no idea what I've been through. I'm in pain! And now, when I come to you for help, you turn me away."
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. "No, Alexis. You can't use this as a weapon against me until the day we die." I pause. "I couldn't help you, even if I wanted. Just to let you know, my finances are just as bad."
"Says the chief accountant of Global Media," Alexis retorts with a hint of sarcasm. "We both know you're lying, Mindy. You’re a fucking liar!"
I swivel around in my chair to face her, my patience dwindling with each passing moment. "Listen up, Alexis. Mom needs money for her treatment, right? Let me tell you something. I just lost my job at Global Media. Right now, I'm barely keeping my head above water."
"You're lying, Mindy."
"I wish I was. The only reason I'm trying to put on makeup while listening to your endless shit is because I have to go back to New York High to perform and make money to pay Mom’s hospital bills. So, if you're only here to beg for money and make me feel guilty for the millionth time since the accident, then you might as well save your breath and leave me alone. I have more important things to do."
Her tone shifts, desperation creeping into her voice once again. "Please, Mindy. The real reason I need money is because I couldn't pay my dealer and now he's after me. But I swear, I swear, I swear, this will be the last time."
I stand up, my hands clenched at my sides. "I'm done, Alexis. I can't keep bailing you out. You need to take responsibility for your own actions. If you're in trouble with your dealer, that's on you. I have my own problems to deal with." I turn away from her, my voice cold and detached. "And now, I can't afford any more distractions, because I have to go to work. My Uber is on its way."
She gets up, a little wobbly on her feet. "You're obviously gonna hook up with some rich dude for his cash tonight. Don't even try to deny it," she says, getting closer and invading my personal space. "Maurice will be interested to know."
"No sweat," I reply, shrugging. "He's not my man anymore."
With an annoyed huff, Alexis turns and storms out of the apartment. "Make sure to close the door behind you," I call after her.
The door slams shut and I slump against the wall, suddenly feeling exhausted. The weight of my sister’s words, the accusations, the guilt - it all comes crashing down on me, every single time we see each other. For a moment, I even consider calling Kevin and canceling the gig. How am I supposed to go out there and perform when I feel like I'm falling apart inside?
But of course, there's absolutely no chance I'm going to cancel a gig like this. Especially not because of my sister's latest tantrum. Mom needs treatment and I’m the only one she can count on. I’m not letting her down.
I push aside the drama and concentrate on the task at hand – all that matters now is this gig. I need to give it my all if I want to walk away with the paycheck I was promised, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.