Page 2 of Forbidden Surrogate

I walk straight to the cabinet where I showed her the filters yesterday and slam them on the white countertops, which Angela has already covered in coffee grounds. She follows me out to the kitchen muttering some inappropriate words about me as I solve her problems for her.

Six months of living with Angela hasn’t driven me to suicide, which I find shocking on its own. The first week was the hardest. I drank every night that week and caught her drinking milk directly from the glass bottles.Angela…

We reached an agreement about the milk, but living with her reminds me of living with a very messy mouse. Perhaps a family of messy mice.

I wipe up the coffee grounds as she scurries over to my coffee maker with the snatched up filters. She looks all twitchy, which annoys me almost as much as the news that my father plans on visiting the penthouse. I sense this is Angela’s fault.

"When is dad coming," I mutter as I rub my temples and pace in front of the apartment windows as she shuffles about my coffee maker. If I have to watch her make the coffee, my impatience will kill me.

The streets are gray, and thick gray clouds cover the water. I press my forehead against the floor to ceiling glass windows, wishing I could fall out instead of having a meeting with dad while hungover.

I bought this building because of the view of the Outer Harbor, but collecting rent is a pretty sweet deal too. Dad was clear, I can’t solve my problem by giving Angela one of the vacant units.

I have to... deal with her. Watch her. Keep her close. If I didn’t know any better, I would say he wants to punish me.

"He’s coming for lunch,” Angela says, dumping way too many ounces of ground coffee into the filter before slamming a bunch of buttons recklessly until she hits the correct one. Reading the machine might work faster, but I have to choose my battles with this woman.

"You cooking?" I ask her - an innocent question, I might add.

Angela glares menacingly at me while the coffeemaker bubbles behind her. Everything that woman does is out of spite. She cut her hair short after dad expressly forbade her from doing so, she went to ballet academy and then dropped out…

Now, she's here. Creating more problems than anybody in the family needs right now, not like Angela knows about the family business dealings. Women and business don't mix.

"Why? Because I'm the woman?" Angela replies sharply as she clenches the back of her jawline and scowls at me with the hatred she normally reserves for dad.

"Because it's lunch time and we're Italians. If you don't want to cook, I'll order from Caravello’s."

Angela wrinkles her nose. "Fuck you. I make much better gnocchi than Gianna. I don't care if she was actually born in Sicily."

That was too easy.

"Perfect. I have everything you need in the fridge."

"But no girlfriend..." Angela mutters.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing. Want some coffee, dearest brother?"

"Yes," I respond as calmly as I can, considering Angela tests me constantly. "The big mug."

Angela throws open my cabinets and tiptoes to reach my shelved mugs. She completely destroys my system to get a mug from Buffalo University that I keep behind all my others. Iused to date this Ukrainian girl who left it behind. It's Angela's favorite -- of course. She grabs the big mug for me -- plain, white, no fuss.

"Cream and sugar?" she offers while dunking enough white mocha creamer into her coffee to cause Type 2 diabetes.

"No. Black."

I take a bar stool at the kitchen counter and stare into the black coffee, willing my hangover away.

"Why does dad want to see you, anyways?" she asks. "I hate having him around my business, but I know he's not coming here just to grill me about my spending."

"Are you sure?" I mutter, glancing at the shopping bags from the Coach Outlet my sister left all over my L-shaped couch.

"Yes. I have my sources."

"I don't know," I grunt, taking a sip of coffee, grateful that Angela didn't make good on her threats to poison me from last night. (Long story.)

"Whatever it is, don't expect me to take your side."

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