In Denial

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"Bacon!"

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"Bacon!"

My voice echoes through the condo. "Zoe, breakfast..."

This is our Saturday morning ritual, has been since we were kids. I make breakfast while she sleeps, we eat, then she cleans up. Our mom used to cook for us, but after she passed, I took over. It was the one tradition Zoe and I kept, through all the grief and pain.

It stopped, of course, when she went to college. But now that she's back and staying with me in this oceanfront condo, we've slipped into our old ways.

A door flings open and my sister shuffles out. She's wearing a long-sleeve black shirt and red checkered pajama pants.

"Nice pajamas. Nice hair," I tease.

She curls her lip in response and slips onto a black stool next to the white island countertop. Everything in this condo is black and white, except the view: blue ocean for as far as the eye can see. It's why I bought the penthouse, from the guy who developed the building and who used to live here. The developer's name was Rafael, and he was moving north to be with his family. I knew he thought it odd that a twenty-five-year-old had several million in cash to plunk down on a condo.

Then I'd dropped my dad's name and he understood. And just like that, I owned the epitome of South Beach living, sun-soaked luxury with a private rooftop pool to boot.

"Late night? Want juice?"

She yawns. "No juice. The most fucked up thing happened last night at this club I was at."

I grin at her. "Tell me. You've been gone from Miami too long if you're shocked the first two weeks you're back. Gainesville made you soft. You need to get back into the crazy."

"Right? And this was insane. Some chick in a bra and panties rode a horse into the club. Like a real, live horse. It happened around two in the morning."

I chuckle and hand her a mug of coffee. "No shit?"

"Yeah, the place was packed. She rides in, wearing a black bra and a black thong, on the back of this horse. Like she's Lady Godiva." Zoe rubs the remnants of black eyeliner and mascara from under her eyes. "Right in the middle of the dance floor. People start taking photos, everyone was yelling and screaming, then the horse freaked out, probably because of the strobe lights or the music. It tried to gallop away and the woman was thrown off. A couple of other people were hurt."

"Fucking idiots."

She nods and scratches her head. My sister looks like a dark-haired Tinkerbell, with a black pixie cut that has a shock of red down one side. The way she looks is totally at odds with her MBA. "I felt bad for the horse. It was obviously scared. I hate shit like that."

I set a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her. "You weren't near the horse, were you?"

"Nah, I was on the side, in the VIP. How was your night? You must've come in early because your light was out when I got in."

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