Mom sighed. “Esme. It’s a perfectly fine dress. But it’s different from your usual style, and given everything that’s… happening,” she couldn’t even say I was courting a pack. “I’m not sure right now is the best time to change your image. We’ve all learned the lesson not to change too many things at once. It confuses the press. And it is much closer to Eva’s current style.”

She told the truth. My sister was in a red maxi dress which flowed around her and set off her blonde bob perfectly, along with matching lipstick. But frustration burned in my chest. I was more than tired of my life revolving around the media. We would have been characters in it regardless of Eva’s career because of who dad was, but it was exhausting no matter what, and I didn’t want this to be my life. I didn’t want to be her, wearing a color I hated at her age because the media thought it was my personality. So, wrapping the confidence from this morning around me, I looked calmly at my mother.

“Eva and I are nearly twenty-nine. The public knows who we are and why we’re different. I think it’s time I’m allowed whatever the hell I want to wear without it being approved by a committee. Especially since the style everyone wants to give us is the polar opposite to our personalities.”

“Language,” my mother hissed.

“Oh my god, Esme.” Eva was beaming. “Hell yes. I totally agree. Let’s trade.”

“Stop it. Both of you. This is not the time or place to talk about a different media strategy. We’ll come back to that. Please explain to me why I woke up with my phone ringing off the hook, asking why my daughter was all over the papers with a pack of tattoo artists? Not to mention Katarina calling me, frantically asking if she was fired?”

All of this was happening in hushed tones since we were in the middle of the restaurant, which was fine with me. If we’d been at Mom’s house it probably would have been much louder. If everyone remained calm, it was easier to keep my head and be rational.

Eva snorted and took a sip of her water. She also held up a hand to keep our waiter from approaching. “I hope you told her yes. That woman is a bitch and has no place helping Eva when her advice is to pick a pack who’s good enough and make it work.”

Our mother pressed her lips together, but notably, she also didn’t disagree. “How did you meet this pack?”