Chelsea had been at the winning game the night before with Bo and Jules Garcia, Mrs. Duffy’s assistant and a dead ringer for Mario Lopez. The Mario when he guest-starred on Nip/Tuck. Not the Mario of Saved by the Bell.

Chelsea wasn’t much of a hockey fan, but she had to admit that she’d gotten caught up in the fever and had watched from the edge of her seat. The three of them had stayed during the cup presentation ceremony and watched all the players skate around with it held over their heads like conquering heroes. “Was Bressler at the arena last night?” She opened the dishwasher and loaded it as her sister rinsed.

Bo shook her head. “We sent a car for him, but he never showed. I think he has good nights and bad nights. He must have been having a bad night.”

Chelsea pulled out the top rack and loaded glasses. “It must be a huge load off his mind to know that his accident didn’t cost his team the cup.”

“I would imagine. He almost died and had bigger things to think about.” Bo handed her a plate.

“And I imagine that waking up after an accident like that, a person must feel so lucky to be alive. I knew a stunt double who fell from a burning building and hit the air bag wrong. After he woke from his coma, he went back to school and is now an injury lawyer. It changed his whole life and put it right into perspective.”

“Yep. Sometimes something unforeseen happens and can change your life.” Bo turned off the water and dried her hands. “What are you going to do with the ten-thousand bonus?”

Chelsea shut the dishwasher and turned her face away. If there was one person on the planet who could read her, even when she didn’t want to be read, it was her twin. “I haven’t decided.”

“What about school?”

“Maybe.” She walked into the living room and ran her finger over a fake fern that needed dusting.

“What about investing? I could hook you up with my broker.”

She could lie, but her sister would know. Evasion was her best option. “I have a while. I’ll think about it.”

“You can’t just blow it on designer clothes.”

“I like blowing money on clothes.” When she had the money to blow. “Especially designer clothes.”

“Well, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Mark Bressler is right. You’re a collision of discordant color.”

Chelsea turned and looked at her sister standing in the doorway to the kitchen, dressed in black and white with her short dark hair pulled back in a stubby ponytail. She almost smiled at her sister’s description of her.

“The bonus you get from the aftercare program won’t go far if you spend it on clothes. If you sign up for classes now, you can go to school this fall.”

They hadn’t talked about Chelsea leaving, but now was as good a time as any. “I won’t be here this fall. I’m going back to L.A.” She expected her sister to protest, to try and convince her to stay so they could live close to each other. She didn’t expect her sister’s next words to feel like a punch in the chest.

“You’re thirty and it’s time to be responsible, Chelsea.ithble, Ch You tried the whole actress thing. You need to set more realistic goals.”

She’d known the rest of the family felt that pursuing her acting dream was silly. She knew that they rolled their eyes and said she was unrealistic, but she hadn’t known Bo felt that way too. The punch turned to a little pinch in a corner of her heart. “If I suddenly get responsible, what would everyone talk about when I leave the room?” The rest of the family could say what they wanted about Chelsea and it never hurt near as badly as when Bo said it.

Bo sighed. “You can’t act in slasher movies for the rest of your life. And do you really want to be someone’s assistant forever?”

She pushed her hair behind her ears. No, she didn’t want to be someone’s assistant forever, and she knew better than anyone that she couldn’t be in slasher movies for the rest of her life. She was getting too old, but she had a plan. When she’d run from L.A., she really hadn’t had much of a plan. Other than getting out of town before she killed someone. Thanks to the Chinooks’ organization, she had one now.

“Don’t get all hurt and sad. All I’m saying is that maybe it’s time to grow up.”

“Why? You’re grown up enough for both of us,” she said, and managed to keep the hurt she felt inside from leaking into her voice.

“I’ve had to be. You were always the fun twin. The one that everyone wanted to be around.” Bo folded her arms beneath her breasts. “The one who threw parties when Mom and Dad went out of town, and I was the one who ran around with coasters so your friends’ beer cans wouldn’t leave rings on Mom’s coffee table. I’m the one who cleaned up afterward so you wouldn’t get into trouble.”

The pinch moved from her heart to the backs of her eyes. “You ran around with coasters because you always wanted everyone to think you were the good twin. The smart twin. The responsible twin.” She pointed across the room at her sister. “And you never had to clean up after me.”

“I’m still cleaning up after you.”

“No. You’re not.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I needed my sister.” Her hand fell to her stomach as if she’d just been punched, but she didn’t cry. She was a better actress than she’d ever been given credit for. “I was going to move out of your apartment after I got my first paycheck, but I don’t have to wait. I have enough money for first month’s rent plus a deposit.” She looked into her sister’s blue eyes. They were so different, yet so alike in more ways than just their looks, and they knew exactly what to say to hurt each other. “I know the rest of the family thinks I’m a fuckup, but I never knew you felt that way too.”

Bo dropped her arms. “Now you do.”

“Yeah.” Chelsea turned toward the spare bedroom. “Now I do.” She walked down the hall before her emotions over took her ability to control them. She quietly shut the door behind her and sat on the edge of the bed. Bo was the other half of her soul. The one person in the world who could truly hurt her.

C mowidth="helsea stretched out on the bed and stared at the wall. The only time she ever felt like a loser was around her own family. Her mother was a successful promoter in Vegas. Before his death three years ago, her father had been a cardiologist. Her brother was a lawyer in Maryland. Her older sister lived in Florida, and was a CPA who had a handful of clients and raked in millions. Bo worked in the promotional department for a Stanley Cup–winning hockey team. And Chelsea… was an out-of-work actress.

The only time she was unhappy about her life was when she was around her family. She’d love to please her family by being a household name and having the cachet that brought with it. She’d love to land major movie and TV roles. She’d kill to have more in her portfolio than slasher films, bit parts on TV, and television commercials. She certainly wished her résumé wasn’t filled up with so much background work that it was kind of embarrassing. But that didn’t mean she was an unhappy person. She wasn’t. Sure, she’d gotten fed up with her life in Hollywood. She’d needed a break. Maybe her decision to leave was a little rash, but she was going to go back, and when she did, she’d be better than ever. Her body would be more in proportion. No more backaches. No more shoulder pain. No more slutty bimbo roles.

The door behind her opened, and she felt the weight of her sister on the bed. “I don’t want you to move out.”

Chelsea wiped the tears from her face. “I think it would be best.”

“No.” Bo spooned her like they were kids again and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I like having you here, and I want you to stay as long as you want. I’m sorry I said those things. I don’t think you’re a fuckup. I think you’re impulsive and I worry so much about you.”

Chelsea turned and looked into her sister’s blue eyes. “I know, but you shouldn’t. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. It might not be in the profession that you or Mom likes, but I’ve never starved.” Except for the few weeks in the beginning when she’d lived in her car, but her family didn’t know that.

“I’m sorry I got mad and said those things to you. I just want you to stay. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you and I’m sorry too.” Her sister was the yin to her yang. The dark to her light. One could not exist without the other. “I love you, Boo.”

“Love you too, Chels. Sorry I said that about your clothes. I know what you wear is important to you.” Bo gave her a little squeeze, and she could hear the smile in her sister’s voice. “They’re not all that discordant.”

“Thanks. And your clothes aren’t all that boring.” Chelsea laughed. “At least we’ve never had to fight about clothes, like some sisters.”

“True. Or boys.”

Dating had always been tricky. For some reason, if either she or Bo turned a guy down, he’d ask out the other twin. But the sisters never fought over boys because they were attracted to opposite sorts of men. So it had never been a problem. “That’s because you’ve always dated geeky mama’s boys, and I’ve always dated smooth-talking losers. We should both start dating out of our type.”

Bo held up one hand in front of Chelsea and they high-fived. “I don’t want to think about you leaving. So let’s not talk about it for at least three months.”

“Okay.”

“What are you going to wear to work your first day?”

Chelsea thought of the man who’d insulted her intelligence and her clothes. “I have a Gaultier tunic that I wear with a belt and skinny jeans.” If Mark didn’t like Pucci, he was going to hate her feather-?print Gaultier.

“Take it easy on the poor guy, Chels,” Bo said through a big yawn. “He’s only been out of the rehab hospital for a month. I don’t know if his body can take the shock.”