Blood, Sweat & Ink

Lydia was nursing her margarita when Dave came in.

Since there was no shooting today, Dave had invited her to what turned out to be a very nice Mexican resturant on the Lower East Side. Too nice-the hostess had sneered at her casual attire and suddenly she was homesick for Lupita's, the hole-in-the-wall place she and Jamie went to in their home of Redding, California when neither of them felt like cooking.

But when she had announced that she had a reservation under the name Navarro, the hostess dropped the sneer and became ingratiating, explaining that the rest of her party hadn't come yet, but she'd be happy to seat her and get her drinks while she waited. Lydia thanked her and silently prayed the food was good.

Much to her chagrin, Dave was followed by her sister.

Vanessa's fists were balled up, ready to fight. Dave stepped in between his wife and his sister-in-law and calmed them both down, informing them that if they wanted to fight, fine. But not before they settled things and ate a little.

Mollified, Lydia sat down. After all, this *was* a very nice resturant, and it looked as if Dave was going to foot the bill. The waiter came by, wrote down their orders, and left.

"Now, all I know about your feud is you had a falling out just before college and haven't spoken since," Dave began. "I also know as twin sisters you were pretty close growing up. What happened? Vanessa, honey, you first."

"Our parents were married happily for thirty years, then it all went downhill after Dad started working at Burger King," Vanessa replied. "All I know is that Mom found out he had a mistress and told him it was her or the mistress. He chose the mistress."

"Lydia?" Dave prompted.

"It's more complicated than that," Lydia explained. "I'm older than her by a minute and there was a lot I kept from her to protect her growing up."

Vanessa scoffed.

"Oh come on," Dave pleaded. "Give her a chance to explain herself."

"The divorce was a surprise to you, but not to me," Lydia went on. "Dad was drunk one night when we were four and confided to me he hated us. I was doing a class project on geneology at the time and asked for some stories. Apparently, he and Mom had been dating for three years and she'd been nagging him for some time to marry her. When he wouldn't, she decided to, um, how to put this?"

"She poked a hole in the rubber?" Dave asked.

"Yeah, that," Lydia admitted. "Dad decided to do the right thing and marry her. Mom was three months pregnant at the time with us. He didn't actually tell me that part-I found that out when I looked up our parents marriage certificate."

"Why tell me now?" Vanessa demanded.

"I tried to, before I left for art school!" Lydia said, exasperated. "Come on, did you really think it was normal for a married couple to sleep in seperate beds? For Daddies to come home late so shit-faced drunk their buddies are carrying him home? Why Dad spent so much time on my case about wanting to be an artist?"

"I-I had always thought Dad thought you were being unrealistic," Vanessa stuttered.

"Dads who care about their daughter's future don't say that art is for faggots and slap them for so much as using a coloring book," Lydia said flatly.

"Then why not tell me this? Why talk shit about me on Twitter?"

Lydia's forehead crinkled. "What are you talking about? I don't have a Twitter account."

"And we don't allow contestants to have access to the Internet at the loft, plus we confiscate cell phones," Dave added.

A sense of forboding entered her body.

"Joshua," Lydia and Dave said at the same time.

"His ass is grass," seethed Vanessa.

But before they could plot revenge, the food came.

It was great.