Under the Dusty Sky (Holloway Farms)

fake, the one she uses when people are around.
    “ Benny!” she squeals and throws her arms around me. I hug her back and lift her off the ground just a little, for appearances. It’s a habit.
    “ Sash, I wasn’t expecting you. What are you doing here?” I try to keep my tone light, but I feel Gracie staring at me, and it’s throwing me off.
    “ You’re surprised? Good, I wanted to surprise you, but I must say, I might be the one who’s surprised. Farm hand? You really weren’t kidding when you said you wanted opposite.” She laughs the fake laugh and then looks at Gracie down her rhinoplasty-ed nose.
    “ Who’s your friend?”
    “ Oh. Uh, Sasha this is Graceland. Holloway’s daughter.”
    Sasha presses her lips into a bored smile but doesn’t say hi, and Gracie glares at me and storms off.
    I swear, I’ll die of the rarest disease in the world before I understand women.
    “ Hold on a sec, Sash.” I hold my finger up to my sister, and I know I’ll catch hell for it, but I have to settle this with Gracie.
    “ Gracie, wait.”
    I run up to her and grab her elbow just as she steps up the first porch step. She glares down at me but her eyes are glassy.
    “ Gracie, listen. I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t mean to. I just want you to know that.”
    “ It’s fine, Ben, really.” Her voice is cold but trembling. “I get it. I mean how could you ever be interested in someone like me. I’m just an immature child playing games I don’t understand. Just Holloway’s daughter.”
    She pulls her arm from my grip and disappears into the house.
    I feel extremely lost. I thought this was about sex. Somehow it feels like a whole lot more.
    ***
    “ I don’t know why we couldn’t just talk at that place you’re staying. It’s so darn cute. Like something out of an old movie.” Sash slides into the cracked leather booth at the diner. She looks around cautiously at the mishmash of decor from fake flowers to 50s diner memorabilia to western style knick-knacks.
    “ Unlike this place. This diner looks like it’s having an identity crisis.” She giggles, and I smile encouragingly at her. “So what’s the deal with that place anyway? I only met the twin boys, and they are just stunning to look at, but they were so totally awkward.”
    I laugh this time. “Sash, they’re not used to people like you. You’re not exactly easy to talk to.”
    She frowns and slaps my arm from across the table. “And that means?”
    “ The first thing out of your mouth was probably something about the angularity of their cheekbones or some ridiculous thing like that. You’re shallow, sis, they aren’t used to that.”
    “ I resent you for saying that.”
    “ Are you arguing?”
    She’s silent for a moment before smiling again. “No, not arguing.”
    “ That sister of theirs is serious potential. And she’s practically in love with you. You and her a thing?”
    “ First of all, stop referring to people as potentials. You know it drives me crazy, and this isn’t one of your uppity elitist L.A. parties. Second and third of all. No.”
    “ Benny, you’re delusional. That girl looks at you like you’re the only living thing on this planet. And I know you. I know how you get. But whatever. That’s not why I’m here.”
    “ Why are you here?” I want to ask her what she means by ‘I know how you get,’ but I can’t. My sister is sharp. She may be superficial and shallow, but she’s not dumb. She has annoyingly killer instincts.
    “ To talk some sense into you. To tell you to come home. To convince you that the studio is your best option. Mom said she found an application to trade school in your room. Trade school, Bentley? That’s just sad.”
    I lean back in my booth, but I don’t get a chance to talk because Julia comes up to the table and takes our order. She looks at Sash like she’s from another planet when she orders a salad with no dressing.
    “ What is mom doing going through my shit? And it is not sad. Millions of people go to trade schools.”
    “ Not people from our family.”
    A low gurgle forms in my throat, but I push it down. I brought her here for this reason. Because in the end, it’s always a screaming match where everyone in my family blames the other for my father’s death. I lean as far over the table as I can.
    “ That is bullshit. Don’t give me that garbage. You know where Dad came from.” I hiss at her, and her facade falls for a moment so I see the real her. The one