“Mara claims you two divided us up for us.” She rolls her head. “I think we can all agree that’s bullshit. Y’all did this for you. You didn’t want to deal with each other so you divided your assets the easiest way you could. That’s pretty shit.

“We think we deserve some recompense, parents.” Jamie claps. “Siri and I want to reconnect! We would appreciate that in the form of some financial support during a low-budget two-week sister road trip around the country, because we are both tight on cash but would like to do something special together to celebrate our reunion. On said venture, we shall start down the path of trying to forgive you.”

Excrement. How did I not foresee how terribly this pitch would go over until right this very second? How privileged, self-righteous, and ridiculous it sounds. These two people are so not in the mood to be pitched a sisterly fun-cation by their mischievous estranged children. I can see it in Mom’s face. She’s going to lose it on us.

“Excuse me!” she cries, her eyes turned to the ceiling. “Someone explain what the underworld is going on! I’m here for an interview with the director of a Las Vegas production for—”

Her screeching spins the top off my anger. “It’s fake, Mom!” I scream. “We catfished you to get you here because we knew you would never take this much time off work unless it was for even better work!”

Yeah, she’s furious. Her face flushes scarlet. “You what?”

Dad raises his hand. “I’m sorry, does this mean Jamie’s not performing tonight?”

Jamie winks at him and shoots him a finger gun. “No, but I would like to hear those notes,” she chides.

Dad’s hand falls to his thigh. “You’re shitting me, Jamie. Do you know what I had to do to step away today? I had to reschedule five meetings.”

Jamie continues to smile. “Yeah, I don’t care.”

I’m scared for Jamie. Or of Jamie.

Dad narrows his eyes. “Bold from someone you’re asking to fund your little sister vacation.”

I rub at my arms, trying to come in with some sort of logical assist. “Dad, we don’t mean like an extravagant vacation—”

“Stop talking, Siri. You don’t want anything from him. You sound like an entitled, spoiled child,” Mom snaps.

Jamie turns to me. “They don’t seem into it. We might just want to go super low budget and take a walk around the block together.”

I groan.

“Mara, I can’t believe you told our child that our other child doesn’t exist,” Dad bursts.

“Shut up, Grier.” Mom looks to me. “Siri, I’m out busting my ass at work at all hours for you! To support us! You don’t need his money!”

“Anymore,” Jamie blurts with an amused flair.