Kyla : Sisterly love

I'm so sick and tired of all these college girls Ashley is attracting. I mean, really? She's a fucking airhead, and can't even make decent coffee.

"Clay, come in here!" I let out a heavy sigh, staring at some paperwork in front of me. I couldn't focus anymore. Not after the little incident earlier. There was something about that girl…

"Kyla?" Clay always looked so nervous around me. Poor guy.

"Clay, I need you to run a background check for me please – Spencer Wilson, from Washington, if I remember correctly. Just check if it's legit and whatever else you can find, like a rap-sheet and anything, really. And I want Arthur's number please."

Prompt as always, Clay just leaves as quickly as he comes in. "Certainly, Kyla."

Now that the blonde was taken care of, I felt better, and knew that I could give some attention to the endless plans and paperwork strewn across the round table. A particular sheet caught my attention, and I picked it out of the stack, unable to hide a smile as I remembered the raid that produced such impressive figures on my bank statement. Of course, a lot of that money went to Ashley's stupid tuition fees. Why can't she just settle with Madison and do what we all do? These fucking college fees are killing me. I need more money for our races. And the Desert Quarter Mile. 3 Weeks… After that, Mexico. Bye-bye shithole LA.

"Ashley!" Maybe I can change her mind.

I almost felt sorry for her as she appeared in the door, looking so… dreadful. Cargos? Who still wears that? Where's all her slacks and jeans I bought her?

"Ky? Looking for me?" she asked innocently, leaning against the doorframe.

God, I hated her sometimes. She had no idea what we had to go through every month to keep food on the table, and live the decent lives we did. At first I didn't want her to have anything to do with it, but after she started taking driving lessons and proved herself to be quite the racer, I expected her to bring her side. But she just continues to live off of whatever we make in the coffee shop. With that terrible coffee that she insists we buy. Fucking clueless, I tell you.

"Do you really have to keep on studying? Are you actually learning anything?" I honestly didn't mean for it to come out so… bluntly, but I couldn't help myself. Of course, when her face fell and she frowned that charming frown that got her out of any trouble with me, my heart softened. "I just need to know if it's still necessary that I pay for your new books. You know things are a bit tight until our next run."

"Yeah, Ky, I am learning, and I really do want to keep on studying, because – " Defense alert!

"Okay, whoa, Ash, calm down. I was just asking. If that's what you want, I will try my best to come up with the funds." Hook. She looked as if someone killed her puppy.

"Ky, if there's no money we can hold off. I'll see what I can do… maybe increase sales in the shop," Ashley stated dejectedly.

She was taking the bait easier than I expected. Maybe she'd finally agree to do a race or something. Anything. I just wanted her away from the books. She belonged with this family, racing. That was what the Davies were good at. And I'd be damned if we let our father down. May his soul rest in peace. "What about a race? Or do a dry run with us?" I knew I was pushing it, but she had to grow some. It was time to get with reality. Line. No way I was going to let Ashley Davies, daughter of famous supercar racer Raife Davies, become some bean counter or paper pusher or whatever they called those people who worked with numbers.

Ashley stepped into the little room and closed the door behind her. I immediately knew there was a hissy fit on the way.

"Kyla, look, I know you want me to race." Or not. She's eerily calm. "I'll practice for the Desert Quarter, okay? And if I do get anything then I'll give the money to you or pay towards my own books and tuition. Would that be okay?"

Before I could even answer, my grown up little sister pulled a chair closer, and sat down, staring at me face-to-face. I wasn't sure if I should be proud or worried. Imagine Ashley being as ballsy as you. I nearly snorted at the thought.

"Ky?" she begged me with her eyes.

I closed my own eyes, unable to look at her anymore. And partly because I felt a migraine rolling in.

Ashley took that as her cue, and thankfully got up. When I opened my eyes again, she was already halfway out the door. "Just one race, Ash! You can keep the money."

Sinker.

Sometimes I hated having a sister. A younger sister at that. Although I loved the power trip it gave me, there were also the times where I had to pretend to care, like now. I took a deep breath, and softly knocked on Ashley's door, wondering what kept her in her room all the time.

"It's open," her voice sang from the other side.

I turned the knob and walked in on a sight that annoyed me profoundly. Ashley was sat up on her bed, glasses on, school papers strewn all over. She was studying. She should be practicing for her race tonight, not fucking studying! I took a deep breath to keep my temper in control, pasted on a fake smile, and gestured to her desk chair. "May I?"

Ashley smiled. Her child-like innocence was another thing that annoyed me. "Hey Ky, what's up?"

I sat down on the desk chair and sighed. "Ash, I need to tell you something about that girl," I started, getting right into business. I was intending to keep this conversation short and sweet. And to the point. Ashley needed to know that this was not an option for her, it was an order.

"What girl?" she asked. Can you be any more fucking clueless?

"That blonde bimbo who comes by the shop every day," I snapped, "who pretends to like your fucking awful coffee." Okay, calm down, no need to be so cruel.

I noticed the stunned look on Ashley's face and immediately felt bad – even if it was the truth. "Look, Ashley, I'm not getting into a fight with you about this. I'm here to tell you to stay away from that girl, she's bad news."

Naturally, Ashley was on the defensive. "Kyla, first of all, I haven't done anything wrong. I'm just serving customers. Secondly, what if I like her? What is so bad about her – "

Ugh, can you just wake up, Ashley? "Well, I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but Clay ran a background check on her." I was now beyond irate. Why did Ashley have to be so stupid? And attract all these stupid girls? And why was she such a softie? Where was the badass Ashley Davies from high school? "And she's been to jail. For car boosts, several other felonies, and assault. Now you know I don't care so much about people's histories, but there's a lot at stake here, Ashley. Our cars which are our livelihood, and more important, your safety! I will not let you see someone who spent time in jail for assaulting people. I know sometimes I wish someone would slap that fucking stupidity out of you, but I care enough not to let that happen to you." You were not cut out to be a good spokesperson for united sisters, Kyla Davies. I held up my stare until Ashley finally dropped her head, looking down at her fidgety hands.

"Whatever, Kyla. Just leave, please."

And… pity party. Fuck me. "Ash, you know I care, right? I'm an asshole, I know. But I do care."

It was hard doing damage control once I've lost my temper, especially with Ashley. Welcome to my life. I considered going over to give her an apologetic hug, but it would just be too awkward. I don't do hugs. That's what my mind said. My body, however, had a different idea. A second later I crumpled Ashley's schoolwork as I sat down on the bed and pulled her in my arms, tightly.

What the – I was caught completely off guard when Ashley hugged me back.

"I know you care," she sobbed. Sobbed? When did she start crying? "I just wish sometimes things were different, you know?"

I sighed, realizing where this was going. She missed our dad. The life we had back then. But it was a long time ago. While I enjoyed life more like it was now, Ashley wished she could go back to the comfort of having parents around, and living a sheltered badass life because she could, and could get away with anything. But things were different now. Death has changed her. Jail has changed her. Life has changed her. Into some soft puddle of fuck-knows-what. I just hoped that she would grow up soon. Or get over all her issues. Nobody ever said life, or reality, was easy. It's how we dealt with it that made the difference.