and after I managed to calm her down, she laughed through the tears. “Guess I won't be catching the eye of a good man ever again without my beautiful long blonde hair and impeccable social etiquette.”
I gently ran a hand over her freshly battered skin and thought maybe that wasn't such a bad thing considering the “good” man she found had done that to her. Once the bruises faded and she stopped jumping from her own shadow, I took her to some fancy hair place down the street from my office, and they waved their magic wand over her hack job haircut and color from a box.
Standing in front of me now with her hands on her hips, impatiently tapping her foot, waiting for an answer, I don't even recognize her. Her hair is still short. Chopping it off with my straight edge razor didn't leave the stylist with much to work with, but they turned it into some type of edgy reverse bob or whatever it's called.
I squint my eyes and try to make out her hair color in the unlit office. “Is that purple and blue?” I ask, slightly shocked.
“Pretty bad ass, huh?” She smiles proudly.
Shrugging, I say, “At least you don't look like an emo asshole anymore. The black made me feel like you were going to start worshiping the devil any minute.”
The sun starts to filter through the wooden venetian blinds, and I notice something sparkling on her face. “Gwen...” Protective big brother is starting to kick in, and it shows in my voice, but then I see her smile and I change my tone. “Is that a nose piercing?”
“Don't even start, Brady...”
I smile and admire the tiny diamond stud. It suits her, but I'll never get used to my five-foot-two, one-hundred-pound tiny wisp of a sister and her new found confidence.
“That’s a pretty cool stud,” I tell her, leaning back in my chair and kicking my feet on my desk so I can watch her annoyance turn to relief. “The nose ring isn’t bad either.”
My smirk puts the irritation back on her face, but I can see she’s trying to hide a smile by the way she’s fighting with the corners of her mouth.
“It’s really sad that you think so highly of yourself,” she tells me good-naturedly.
We both let out a laugh as she rolls her eyes at me and starts sorting some of the open case files on my desk.
It’s good to see her smile and laugh again. Real good.
When I finally pulled myself out of my six-month drunken bender, tired of filling my days and nights with cheap whiskey and even cheaper women from every strip club within a fifty mile radius, I decided to open up my own security specialist/private investigating firm. Gwen jumped at the chance to help me out. She had her own baggage, her own rough couple of years. She'd been working a dead end job as a waitress that was more trouble than it was worth ever since she showed up here, so it made her decision a no-brainer.
Her six-year-old daughter is in school full time now which gives her more freedom to come and go during the day. Managing the office side of my business lets her finally put that college degree in Business Administration to good use. Gwen is two years my junior, and is still the only member of my family who has never given up on me. I've been to hell and back this past year and never thought I would make it out alive. I put her through the fucking ringer when she first got here. After the life she left behind, she didn’t deserve that shit from me. She deserves more, so much more. It's only been recently that I've realized how much she's done for me, how much she's always done for me, and just how much I’ve let her down.
Throwing the last few items from my dresser drawer into the camouflage duffel bag on my bed, I zipped it closed and slung the pack over my shoulder, hustling out of my room and down the front stairway before my father could get another word in to criticize me. Ever since I made the announcement I was joining the Navy over dinner two months ago, I was met with nothing but anger and shame from my parents. The shame came from my mother.
“What will everyone at the club think when I tell them you aren’t going to law school?” she asked