War of Prey

2) Underground Beauty

"Faith in humanity: a behavioral prison known by name."

***

Rhea scrambles around her apartment, trying to decide on how to tell her sister. Her pondering is short-lived because the front door opens, and expensive perfume threatens to choke Rhea. Tiffany walks in wearing her typical pink dress and white wedges, the ever-present shopping bag on her arm, and her phone to her ear. She sees Rhea and smiles before strutting to her room Tiffany tries to hide it, but Rhea sees her ankles wobble. Rhea stands by the couch in the living room, waiting for Tiffany to emerge from her room. Finally, she comes out, her hair pinned up in elegant jewels. "Hey, Athrhea! Oh my, is that what you wore to work? Just because you are working with criminals doesn't mean you can slack off on appearance."

"Love you too, Tiff," she scoffs. "I have to tell you something."

"Hold on, let me put away all the clothes I just bought," she squeals and turns to walk away before Rhea grabs her arm and pulls her back.

"Tiffany, this is important."

"Baby sis, I always do what you need, so for once, you can let me put my clothes away," Tiffany huffs, annoyance lacing her words. She turns to leave again. Rhea is very tempted to let her.

"I am going to Mexico!"

Tiffany stops cold and looks back at Rhea. "What? Like hell you are!"

"You did not seem to care a minute ago. I see where I stand in your mind. You put your own damn sister after your stupid clothes. I leave tonight, so I will be out of your hair," she spits, malice dripping from her lips like water off a roof. She digs her sharp nails into her palm to quell her rage.

"No, Athrhea, you're not going, and that's final."

"I am twenty, Tiffany. I do not need you to babysit me anymore—"

"It's what mom—"

"Mother is not here!" Rhea yells, anger racking her body and plaguing her heart. "She never cared; she was too busy getting high. She had an addiction to drugs, and you have an addiction to yourself. You will have the whole apartment to yourself; I do not know how long I will be gone."

"Athrhea—" Tiffany calls but Rhea is already out the door and heading to her car. The only place left to go is back to the station. She looks at her white Mercedes and tries to memorize the feel of the leather seats, knowing she won't see it for a long time. In the ten minutes it takes to get back to the police station she's thought of every possible outcome of this mission: Death, injury, PTSD, psychosis, or gang members off the street; the latter more preferable.

"Rhea, what are you doing back so quickly?" Chief Bailey inquires Rhea, shutting the glass door behind her.

"I would rather be here than at home," she mutters.

"I take it Tiffany didn't like the idea."

"Yeah. All she was concerned with was putting her clothes away and I had to yell at her for her to listen. She kept walking away from me, she had a fit telling me I was not going, then she dared to bring up our mother. She still treats me like I am ten," she vents, sliding into her chair.

"Older sisters can be like that. That's how Nene was with Jay. They have your best interest in mind, but they just don't know how to show it, especially in your case—"

"Chief! We have an emergency!" Calum shouts. Calum Berilim is the forensic scientist in the New Orleans department, the closest thing Rhea has to a friend and her favorite nerd.