Tiffany Sly Lives Here Now. Dana L. Davis

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СКАЧАТЬ hide those jeans if I were you. Dinner attire is always Sunday chic. It’s the house rule.”

      “We have lots of house rules,” Heaven adds.

      I pull the leather strap on my case to take some of the weight off my shoulder.

      “Cool guitar case. Is there a guitar inside it?” Nevaeh asks.

      “Why would she be carrying an empty guitar case?” Heaven replies.

      “It could be, like, a suitcase or something... I dunno. Whoa!” Nevaeh jumps excitedly. “You know who you look like? Janet Jackson!”

      I sigh. It’s like I’m watching the twin Olympics and Heaven and Nevaeh are going for the gold. Can’t they be quiet for, like, one second so I can figure out what the hell is happening here?

      “Janet Jackson is short and sporty. Tiffany’s tall and thin,” Heaven states simply. “She looks more like Kelly Rowland.”

      “Holy shiz, you’re right!” Nevaeh squeals.

      “Stop cussing!”

      “I said shiz, Heaven.”

      “Whatever. Shiz is stupid. You sound moronic.”

      “Do you see the resemblance?” Nevaeh asks Heaven, sizing me up once again as I stand awkwardly in front of them.

      “Totes,” Heaven replies, matter-of-fact. “The height. Thin like all of us. An air of awesome. I totally see it.”

      Nevaeh nods. “Yeah, yeah. I see it now!”

      They stare at me with matching smiles and a glorious moment of silence passes. I seize my opportunity to get a word in. “Just curious but...where is, um...?”

      “Dad?” Heaven saves my lips from having to form the word on their own.

      “Yes. Where is he?”

      “Emergency C-section.” Heaven tosses out the words like it’s as normal as a walk in the park. “He’ll be home soon. Hopefully. Maybe.” She rolls her eyes.

      “She ate In-N-Out,” Nevaeh whispers.

      “Don’t tell my mom that. She’d die. She’s been cooking since 5:00 a.m.”

      My phone buzzes in my back pocket. I grab it and check the caller ID. “It’s my grandma. Sorry, could you guys give me a second?”

      Heaven pulls Nevaeh by the arm. “Take your time. We’ll see you inside, okay? Then we can show you your room. And you can change. And meet Pumpkin.”

      “Pumpkin?”

      “Yeah. Our sister.” Nevaeh smiles.

      “Oh, right. Gotcha. Our...sister.”

      I wait until the girls have disappeared inside the house and take a few steps toward the street as I swipe across the screen. “Did you know Anthony has other kids?” I whisper angrily into the phone. “He has kids!”

      “So I’m assuming you made it safely?”

      “Grams, did you hear me? I have sisters!”

      “Sisters? I only knew about one, Tiffany. I swear. I only knew about London.”

      “London? Who is that?”

      “That’s the sister I knew about. London. She should be about your age.”

      Then who the hell is Pumpkin? It hits me. “Oh, my gosh! Grams, there must be four!” I contemplate slamming my phone down onto the cobblestone driveway and watching the glass screen shatter into a hundred pieces, but that would only tame my rage for a few seconds and then, of course, leave me with a broken phone. Maybe there’s not four. Maybe London’s nickname is Pumpkin. But why would London’s nickname be Pumpkin? Maybe she looks like a Pumpkin?

      “Tiffany, you have to believe me. I only knew about the one.”

      “So why didn’t you tell me that? Would’ve been a nice heads-up!”

      “It wasn’t my place to tell you.”

      “Yes, it was!” My eyes burn as hot tears form. “You had no right to keep this from me. I feel totally blindsided.” I wipe a tear. What did I expect? That Anthony Stone would be sitting in a giant empty house waiting for me all by himself, feeling the way I’ve felt for all these years—incomplete? How could he possibly feel incomplete with a wife and four daughters? And how will he feel when he discovers I may not be his? With four daughters and a wife, my guess is...relieved.

      As I’m pacing, the door to the house across the cul-de-sac swings open and a teenage boy steps out onto the neighboring driveway. He’s wearing a sweatshirt with the hood pulled low, concealing his face.

      “Tiffany,” Grams says with a tired sigh. “Get to know your father. It’s his job to tell you the truth. The whole truth. You deserve it.”

      “Grams—” I’m distracted as the boy looks up and our eyes meet. The sight of his face literally takes my breath away. It’s covered in some sort of heavy white makeup, pasty and drawn, his green eyes almost glowing under the light of the full moon.

      “Yes, Tiffany? What’s going on? You all right?”

      “Look... I’m here. I made it safely.”

      “Please don’t be mad at me. I’m already hurting so much. I can’t have you mad at me.”

      “I’m not mad. I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up before she has a chance to respond, my heart pounding, my mind a jumble of confusion.

      The boy with the white face is still standing there, staring. He smiles and raises a gloved hand to wave at me. More than a bit spooked, I timidly wave back, then spin around and run inside the house.

       3

      Something’s attached itself to me.

      I look down to see tiny hands wrapped around my leg and enough wild, curly hair to open up an exclusive wig store. “Um, excuse me? Hi.”

      An adorable face emerges from the mass of auburn-tinted curls. She’s got pouty full lips, light brown skin and the same pale blue eyes as Heaven and Nevaeh.

      “I Pumpkin. I two! Birthday, December 19.”

      “Hi there, Pumpkin,” I say weakly as I realize Pumpkin wasn’t a nickname for London and there actually are four sisters. “I’m Tiffany.” Pumpkin’s wearing a pretty pink dress with lots of ruffles. She looks like a porcelain doll. Like she should be on sale at Toys R Us.

      “I Pumpkin. I two years old.”

      “Oh. Okay. I’m Tiffany. Again. I’m sixteen.”

      “I Pumpkin! I two!”

      “I’m СКАЧАТЬ