after the wedding found Alana in a mood that most charitably could be described as foul.
Her head was pounding from all the bubbly Moet she’d had at the reception and she wanted nothing more than to be alone for the rest of the day and possibly her life. Sitting up in her bed seemed to take all of her energy and she groaned loudly and with great pain. It was going to be a miserable day.
Only a few drinks in her system, and she could barely remember what she’d done the night before. Compounding that was the fact that she’d had an array of dreams that were blazingly hot, featuring Roland Casey as her partner in every kind of erotic crime imaginable. Why in the world she’d managed to conjure the two of them, naked, sweaty and tightly entwined the way she had was just beyond her. There were some mental puzzle pieces missing, but her head hurt too badly for her to figure it out at the moment.
After her eyelids finally came unglued, she squinted around her bedroom, trying to figure out where her robe was. Since her sister Adrienne was staying with her, she tried to do it as quietly as possible, although it was so late that Adrienne was probably awake. Alana was in no shape to converse with anyone, however, and she was aiming for total stealth at the moment.
She managed to find the robe and her slippers and she staggered into the bathroom, hoping that a blast of hot water on her face would bring her back to the land of the living.
The shower was a mixed blessing because her head was throbbing so hard that the stream of water was actually quite painful, but she clenched her teeth and hung in there, scrubbing her body mercilessly with a nylon puff and a huge amount of Au Lait body wash.
The mild, clean scent gradually soothed her senses until she was at least able to move her neck without wincing. While she moved the puff up and down her body she tried to recreate the evening, hoping that there was a reasonable explanation for her steamy dreams and her deep sense of embarrassment. Maybe she had an alter-ego like Beyonce, she thought mirthlessly. Maybe her personal Sasha Fierce had taken over her dreams last night because it sure wasn’t the real Alana. With a sigh that came from the depths of her being, she turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself in a big soft towel before putting the robe on again.
Adrienne was probably up and moving around because the thermostat had been turned up and the house was no longer chilly. She could also smell her favorite morning aroma, coffee. God bless her, Adrienne knew the only thing that would help her headache was a large cup of joe. Maybe the whole pot.
Alana made a detour through the living room on her way to the kitchen and found her shoes, which had been left by the front door. She also found the attachment to her gown, the rest of her dress, her purse, her jewelry and everything else she’d worn that she’d apparently tossed this way and that as she’d staggered into the house. That must have been some striptease she’d done on the way to the bed.
Hauling everything into the bedroom, she was about to pile her clothes onto the window seat, but it was already occupied by Adrienne, who was holding a large mug out to her.
“Just toss ’em on the bed, Sissie. Let’s talk,” Adrienne said brightly. “Sissie” was the name Adrienne had called her from the time she was first able to talk.
Alana dropped the clothes and reached for the mug, which her sister pulled away. “Not a chance, not until you agree to talk to me.”
“Fine, whatever, just give me that coffee and tell me what’s on your mind.”
“You’re on my mind, sweetie. I’m concerned about you,” Adrienne said, her eyebrows raised slightly. “I thought you could use a listening ear.”
Alana took another long swallow and stared into the mug like it was a Magic 8-Ball or some other kind of oracle. “Did I do something stupid last night that I don’t recall?”
“No, you were actually behaving like the Alana that I’ve always loved and admired and tried to emulate. You’ve been my role model since the day I was born. We practically shared the same womb,” Adrienne said with a grin.
It was true; Alana and Adrienne were born only ten months apart, and were as close as twins in a lot of ways, even physically, although Adrienne was a lot more bohemian than Alana. Alana’s style tended to be more classic while her younger sister wore avant-garde garb of her own design. She was a much sought-after costume designer in Hollywood and she looked the part.
Alana’s relaxed hair was worn in a sleek shoulder-length bob, while Adrienne’s hair was worn in wild spiraling curls. She also wore glasses because she couldn’t be bothered with contact lenses, and she always managed to find stunningly fashionable ones that showed off her eyes instead of hiding them.
The sisters were the same height and size, although Adrienne was heavier now that she was entering the second trimester of her pregnancy. She’d thought she was pregnant back in February when Alexis got married, but it had been a false alarm. This time it was the real deal. She was definitely with child, a child she was sure was a boy, even before the ultrasound had proved her to be correct.
“Why in the world would you want to be like me? I’m completely and totally boring. I think your hormones are making you a little crazy,” Alana said as she put the mug on her nightstand. She picked up a bottle of Au Lait body lotion and began applying it to her legs before continuing.
“You’re avoiding my question,” she said sternly. “What did I do last night? I’m having a problem remembering some details, like how my clothes got strewn all over the living room.”
“You didn’t do anything scandalous, if that’s what you mean. You were a little frisky, no doubt due to the amount of champagne you had, but all you did was dance a lot. And you took some cute pictures with Roland.”
“Cute pictures? What cute pictures?” Alana demanded as she took off her robe to finish putting on lotion.
Adrienne gladly handed her the strips from the photo booth and sat back to watch her reaction. She didn’t have long to wait as Alana’s cheeks turned red and her eyes got huge.
“Good Lord. I forgot all about these,” she mumbled. “Was I drunk or what? How did I get home? Did I make a fool out of myself?”
Adrienne laughed at the look on her sister’s face. “I brought you home because Roland took his parents back to the hotel. On the way home you started singing and you kept on singing when we got to the house. Then you started dancing through the living room, tossing your clothes. It was pretty cute. Actually, you were singing ‘I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas’ and it was hilarious.”
Alana made a scornful noise and continued her grooming routine, putting body butter on her feet, elbows and knees. “You’re just making things up to get on my nerves. I don’t remember doing anything of the kind. I had a little to drink but not that much. I certainly would’ve remembered a performance like that,” she said haughtily. Holding her towel tightly, she went into her walk-in closet and emerged wearing a lacy pink bra and matching thong.
Adrienne was waiting for her, holding out her smartphone. Alana leaned over to get a good look at it and squealed when she saw the video playing on the screen. There she was in all her giddy glory, singing loud and off-key as her clothes went flying.
“How do you delete this?” Alana turned the phone over and over, examining all the buttons. “If this ends up on your Facebook page, I’ll get you,” she vowed.
“I was thinking more like YouTube,” Adrienne teased. “Or that funny video show on TV. We
