—JENNIE

..

Grandma Maeve used to say hate will toughen your dough; a good bake is made with love. I don't know about hate, but my stress seems to be leaking out all over my brioche. The dough has become tacky and warm when it should be smooth and cool. I've overkneaded it in my distraction.

Mama's birthday brunch is tomorrow, and I haven't heard from Jisoo in days. Jisoo, who was supposed to get Mama's present while I do the cooking. Jisoo, who promised that she would find Mama something "ah-mazing!" and not to worry about paying her back. Well, I do. Especially since Jisoo is almost always short on cash. When she's flush with money, it usually means trouble.

The surface of the dough clings to my palm, and I utter a sound of disgust. Scooping the mass up, I dump it in the garbage and start arranging my mise en place all over again. I'm a professional chef, not a baker, and it shows. But I'm determined to up my game.

My phone dings with a text just as I'm opening a packet of yeast.

Unknown number: Jisoo, if you don't get your ass back here in 30 min, I'm calling the police.

It's such an odd text I can only stare at the phone and frown. I don't recognize the number, but "Jisoo" has me hesitating. Weird how I was just thinking of my sister, Jisoo. Then again, Jisoo is a common name —especially in South Korea. This "Jisoo" might be a dude, for all I know.

Another text lights up my phone.

I mean it. I'm not falling for your "I'm just a sweet little ol' southern belle" shit anymore. I know you took the watch. You WILL return it.

Now this gives me pause. Many times has Jisoo accused me of complaining about her sweet little ol' southern belle act. A glance at the phone also reminds me that it's April 1.

Rolling my eyes, I dust off my hands and pick up the phone.

This has got to be the lamest April Fools' joke yet, Jisoo. At least pretend to be someone other than yourself.

Immediately, I get a response.

Are you shitting me? Mistaken identity? That's what you're going with? Cut the crap. Get. Over. Here. Now.

Annoyed, I type back harder than usual.

This isn't even "Jisoo's" number so I'm the one calling bullshit on YOU. Stop with the funny business. I'm busy making Mama's surprise brunch.

Please. I've tasted your cooking. I'd be safer eating canned food.

Oh, that's just low and uncalled for. I fire back a response.

You know, Chu, you're kind of acting like . . . an asshole.

There's a pause, and I can almost feel Jisoo wondering if she should drop the charade. When she finally answers, it isn't what I expect.

Did you just quote Snowdrop to me?

Well, duh. It's my favorite series, despite the fact "you" get to star in it.

I have to smile a little. It always stuck in my craw that the main character has the same name as my sister and not me. Something Jisoo used to needle me with all the time.

Another text makes my phone ping.

That was Jennie's favorite. You, OTOH, can't sit still long enough to finish a series. Stop diverting. Bring me my watch.

I frown. Her response is just weird. Jisoo never insults herself. Especially with something that's true; Jisoo never can sit still for a movie let alone series. Something only a few people know. Jisoo is great at hiding what she perceives as flaws. A short attention span isn't a flaw in my book, but it certainly is in Jisoo's. Tension snakes down my neck and over my shoulders. I don't like these texts. They aren't funny, and there's something off about them.

Enough already. I'm baking. Come up with a better joke.

There's no response, and I assume that's the end of that. I grab some flour and begin to measure it out when Jisoo replies.

Jennie cooks and bakes. Not you.

I don't want to believe anything other than this is Jisoo trying to annoy me. She's an excellent liar—a professional where I am but an amateur. But there's something about the text, the tone that conveys genuine trepidation, and it has my hackles rising.

My hands are not as steady when I type my response.

That's because I AM Jennie. (The "Jey" is implied here.)

There's another protracted pause. One that I feel in my bones. My stomach clenches as I wait. It doesn't feel like a prank anymore. But it has to be. Jisoo is just that evil.

A ding from my phone fills the silent kitchen.

Tater Tot?

I suck in a sharp, pained breath, my fingers tingling. All the oxygen in the room disappears. For a long moment, all I can do is stand in my kitchen, my ears ringing, my body clenched.

Other than Jisoo, only one person knows Snowdrop is my favorite show. The only person who would boldly call me that name.

No, I will not think about Lisa Manoban. Lord knows I've tried my best to eradicate her from my brain entirely. But she is like a cold sore, popping up now and then, a painful irritation whether I want her there or not.

It grew worse when she won a starring role on Dark Castle, the series everyone on the planet but me seems to be obsessed with. I didn't know she was into acting until then. And damn it, I wanted to watch that show. Now, it is all I can do to keep clear of it, what with every person I know talking about it on social media each Sunday night.

Jisoo was beside herself about the news. "Just think, we both know someone famous, Jen."

"Hold my hand while I try not to faint from excitement."

"Sarcasm makes your face pinch in unattractive ways."

"How about when I stick my tongue out? Don't give me that look. I'm a caterer in LA, Chu. I've met loads of famous people. Most of them haven't been very impressive."

"But you don't know them know them. We knew Manoban before she was famous. People are more likely to show you their true selves when they're not worried about fame."

"Yeah, well, Lisa's true self is an arrogant asshat."

"Pish. You hold grudges for too long."

"Too long? She was a monumental dickhead to me for years!"

"Water under the bridge. You should let it go too."

Too. As if she'd been called Tater Tot by a mob of sycophantic Lisa worshipers. As if she'd had those little potato bits pelted at her when she was the most vulnerable. To this day, I can't stand tater tots.

"They show her ass in two episodes," she went on blithely. "And I'm here to tell you, it is hot. I mean, we're talking grade A bubble-butt perfection. She's definitely built that thing up since high school."

Not wanting to talk about Lisa's butt or the fact that my sister may or may not have seen said butt long ago, I had changed the subject. She knows how much I hate Lisa. The fact that Jisoo's using her as a practical joke now is too much. Anger flows through me in a rush of heat. I'm all thumbs as I reply.

How dare you bring that ass canal into this?

Ass canal? Only one person I know uses that term. Jesus, this really is Jennie, isn't it?

I want to scream. I want to chuck the phone to the devil and run out of the kitchen. But mainly, I want to punch my sister.

Fuck you, Jisoo. Consider yourself uninvited to brunch.

It's Lisa. And you really hate me that much, Tot? After all this time?

No, no, no. It is not Lisa Manoban texting. Jisoo hasn't talked to her since she dumped my sister the night of the prom. It's a matter of pride with her. Never mind the fact that Lisa's famous; she probably has people to text for her, for Pete's sake.

It has to be a bad dream. A nightmare.

Stupefied, I stare at the phone in my hand while it lights up.

Tater?

Tot?

Jennie? You there?

Pick up the phone, Jennie.

Wait. What?

I nearly jump out of my skin when the phone starts ringing.

Oh. My. God. No. Just no. It cannot be Lisa.

The call goes to voice mail, but the phone simply rings again.

She won't stop; Lisa is like a tick that way. She'll keep at this until I lose my mind. I've got to nip this in the bud now. Taking a deep breath, I answer. "What!"

"Still all the grace, Jennie." Her voice is deeper now, a rumble of smoke and ashes.

I ignore her sarcasm. "How did you get my number, and why are you bothering me?"

Laughter comes through the phone. "What, no 'It's been so long. How have you been?' At least confess how much you missed me."

Oh, how I remember that irritating smugness. The fact that I'm actually talking to Lisa after all this time unsettles me so much my legs tremble, and I have to lean against the counter.

It's a surprise my voice is anywhere near normal. "Answer the question, or I'm hanging up."

"I'll just call you again."

"Lisa . . ."

She makes a noise, almost a laugh but something drier. "No one calls me Lisa like that. As if it's a curse or a bad taste in your mouth. Only you."

"Why are you harassing me, Lisa?"

She huffs out a breath. "Firstly, I called Jisoo's number." She rattles off her number, and I'm left frowning—not that she can see that. She continues on in an officious tone. "Secondly, I addressed my messages to Jisoo, not you. Why you seemed to think I was pretending to be Jisoo makes absolutely no sense."

"It's April Fools' Day," I mutter. "I thought it was a poorly executed joke on Jisoo's part."

She laughs without humor. "I wish."

Yeah, me too.

If I am to believe she was texting Jisoo—and why would she bother texting me?—then I have to believe the rest. Unfortunately, I'm remembering the time Jisoo forwarded her messages to me when she dumped a particularly clingy guy named Dave. I had to deal with an alternately crying and raging Dave for a week before he finally stopped calling me.

Which means Lisa isn't lying.

Shit on a platter.

"Well," I say, desperately reaching for calm. "Clearly, I am not Jisoo. Nor is this her number. I suspect she forwarded her messages to me, for which she and I will have words. However—"

"You're talking like your grandma again, Tot."

"Do not call me that."

A slow chuckle rumbles in my ear. "But you don't object to sounding like your grandma?"

I shift my feet and scowl. I was talking like Grandma Maeve, damn it. I tend to get wordy and overly formal when nervous. The fact that she knows I do chafes. "You're veering off course. The fact remains that I am not Jisoo."

"Do you know where she is?" She's harder now, the anger back.

"I wouldn't tell you if I did."

I can almost hear her grinding her teeth. Which is satisfying.

"Then I guess I'll have to call the police," she says.

All at once, I remember her first texts. She demanded Jisoo bring back a watch. Gripping the phone, I pace the length of my kitchen. "What did she do?"

I could have phrased it differently, but having dealt with Jisoo's shenanigans over the years, I'm not going to waste time making excuses until I hear Lisa's side of the story. I'll talk to Jisoo afterward.

"She took my mother's watch."

I suck in a sharp breath. Holy shit.

Though I didn't know much about Mrs. Manoban as a person, everyone knew about her watch. It was the envy of the entire town. It wasn't so much a watch but a piece of jewelry, rose gold and covered in glittering diamonds. It was beautiful, though not one I'd wear every day as Mrs. Manoban did.

I remember it well on her slender wrist, the elegant piece glinting in the light. A knot of dread rises up within. Jisoo coveted that watch. Oh, how she loved it. The worst of it is, Lisa's mother passed away years ago, which means the watch would be both an heirloom and a treasured memento.

Weakly, I press a cold hand to my hot cheek. "She . . . ah . . . when could she have possibly done this?"

Lisa makes a noise of annoyance. "She really doesn't tell you anything, does she?"

The truth stings.

"Why would she tell me about a watch that she may or may not have stolen?"

"I thought Jisoo had been renting a room from you."

I blink in surprise.

Three years ago, I was given the opportunity to partner in a high-end catering business. Irene, my partner, eventually sold the other half to me, and it became so successful I was finally able to buy a small bungalow in Los Feliz. A few months later, Jisoo moved into the loft over my garage because money was tight for her.

Truth is, I never know how she gets her money since she never mentions any jobs. It's hit or miss if I receive the small amount of rent she insisted on paying, and since I don't actually need money from her, I've learned not to rely on it.

But I thought we were close enough that Jisoo would tell me she'd been seeing Lisa. I hadn't a clue they were even in contact.

"That doesn't mean I know everything that goes on in her life," I finally say.

Lisa makes a noise that sounds far too pitying before answering with an overly patient tone. "Jisoo has been my assistant for the past month. Though it soon became clear that she greatly oversold her qualifications."

I don't know what to feel. I'm glad they aren't dating; if Jisoo and Lisa took up again, inevitably, she'd be back in my life as well. But Lisa is in her life, isn't she? They've been working together for a month. And Jisoo never told me a thing. Hurt is a numb throb in my temples.

"I've been away for a week," she goes on. "I returned home yesterday, found Jisoo gone and a couple things missing, including the watch."

"What was she doing in your house?" I wince at the question. I don't want to know. I don't.

But I do.

"Being my assistant is a twenty-four-seven job," she says as if this is obvious. "I have a guesthouse. Jisoo was staying there."

I don't miss the way her tone implies that she thinks it's odd I hadn't noticed Jisoo was living elsewhere for weeks. I had. But I'm used to her coming and going. My place is more of a base camp for her than anything.

"You might have had a break-in," I offer weakly.

"Bullshit. The damn woman asked to see the watch for 'old times' sake,' and I was fool enough to show her."

Closing my eyes, I run my hand over my face. "Well . . ."

Shit. I have nothing.

Her voice turns weary and resigned. "Just tell me where she is, and I'll leave you to your baking."

"I don't know where she is. But I'll find her. Talk to her."

"Not good enough. I could almost let the rest go, but that watch means something to me. She's gone too far this time. I'm asking the police for help."

"Please." The word rips out of me and burns on my tongue. I hate that I've said it. But I can't take it back. "I'll get your watch."

I can't let Jisoo go to jail. For better or worse, she's my sister. And it would kill Mama. Figuratively, but I have a horrible fear that it might be literal as well. We lost our father last year, and our mother's health is fragile at best. One day, I turned around to look at her and was stunned by how much she'd aged, as if my father had taken her spark of life with him. Jisoo and I are all she has left. Sadly, she's always been overly protective of Jisoo.

"You have twenty-four hours; then I'm calling the police," Lisa says with a rough voice that speaks of impatience.

"Twenty-four? Are you funning me?"

"Do I sound like I'm having fun?" she shoots back.

"Well, I had to ask, what with the ridiculous time frame you're proposing."

I can't possibly hear her grinding her molars, but I imagine she is. "That wasn't a proposition," she grinds out. "It's a deadline."

"This is LA, Lisa. It takes at least twenty minutes to travel five miles in any direction. On a good day." I let out a noise of pure annoyance. "Not to mention that if Jisoo is hiding out, she might not even be in the city. She could have hopped on over to Vegas, gone up to San Francisco, or even down to Cabo."

All of them are favorite escapes for Jisoo. Not that I've been able to figure out how she can afford it. Hell, maybe she's been a professional thief all this time.

"Point being," I say tightly. "If you truly want to find her, you've got to give me more time than twenty-four hours. I'm not some female Jack Bauer, damn it."

A strangled noise, like a protracted laugh, comes through the phone. "It almost would be worth the hassle to imagine you scurrying around the city with a countdown clock dinging over your head."

A haze of red fills my vision. I swear, if she were in front of me, she'd be wearing a bowlful of flour. "Still an asshat, I see."

"Still insulting me, I see."

"You always were quick, Lisa." Shit, I need to stop taunting her. "Give me a week."

"Two days."

I snort. "Five."

"Three," she counters. "That's the best I can do for you, Tot."

My back teeth meet at the name. It isn't much time, given the task. But hell, I don't blame her for her anger or wanting this done. "Sold."

"Three days," she repeats. I relax a little until she finishes with, "I expect you and Jisoo at my house with the watch in hand."

"What?" I practically hiss. "Why me? I don't need to be there. I'm not—"

"Yes, you do. I don't trust Jisoo to show up without you."

"She'll show." If I have to threaten death and dismemberment. "I want no part of this reunion." No way am I coming face to face with Lisa. I can't do it.

"Then you shouldn't have stuck your nose into it."

Ass. Hole.

Lisa's tone is hard and cold. "Those are the terms. Take it or leave it."

I have to believe she's serious; the Lisa I knew never said what she didn't mean. I would have admired that if she hadn't been such a prick to me every time we got in each other's orbit. The thought of facing her, meeting that cool, smug gaze once more, makes my insides flip sickly.

Just once, I'd like to bring that woman to her knees, see her desperate and panting for me the way so many women are for her. There is little chance of that looking like I do at the moment, covered in flour, sticky with sweat, and my hair in desperate need of a cut.

"Jennie? We have a deal?"

I hate the way she says my name, all clipped and imperious, as if she's my superior. I grip my phone hard enough to hurt my hand. I picture throwing the thing at her big head. Lord, grant me the strength not to do just that. "I'll see you in three days."

She sounds entirely too pleased. "I'll text you my address. I'm looking forward to it, Tot."

I'm looking forward to strangling my sister.

First, I'll have to find her.

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