"Is something wrong?" Lyle looked at her, who just in his sleep pants, making tea the next morning.
She couldn't help but glare. He was bloody fit. Brilliant in fact. She thought it best not to mention her brother's feelings about what she'd said. Obviously, saying gay was offensive.
"Nothing." She looked at him blankly. "He's just the sensitive sort."
"Must run in the family." He made light of it and went back to making tea and toast.
She made an effort to smile. Really, she didn't want to be a bother.
"Did you sleep well enough?" He then asked, not really noticing if she had or not.
"Well, enough." She'd tossed and turned, trying to figure this Robby out. He hated everyone. How on earth could she do anything to please him?
"It'll get better, I suppose." He shrugged.
"What do you suppose he wants from me?"
"Robby?" He winced. "Let him shrivel up and die. Don't worry about him."
"But." She didn't know what to ask.
"We could straighten your hair. See if that works. There are plenty of Katy Perry's and so on. We'll just have to define you. Let the fans find you." He sounded so certain what to do. "Of course, it would help if you were ready for the clubs."
"You'll take me?"
"No, I'll dress you for the occasion. That's my job." He looked at her as if he had a job to do, and he was damn sure to do it today, or there might not be a tomorrow here as far as Gemma could see.