6

I was ten minutes late and still hadn’t picked up coffee—a requirement set by my sister when she was scheduled to be anywhere before noon. As her personal assistant, I knew better than to show up empty-handed, and I also knew there was no negotiation to her rules.

I parked a few blocks away from Starbucks, not wanting to waste any more time to look for a better spot, and I hauled ass inside. The line was at least twenty people deep, and it wrapped around the whole back of the shop.

She’s going to kill me.

The second I got in place, my phone began to vibrate from inside my purse. If I pulled it out, I imagined there would be multiple texts, missed calls, voice mails, all from my sister, asking where I was.

She was high-maintenance, demanding, and extremely argumentative, a snarky attitude that just wouldn’t let you win, so there was no reason to even try. Growing up with her had been an adventure, but having to work with her every day, in this proximity, was an entirely new level of in