The ice in the tray cracked loudly as Aya twisted it, her head tilted slightly.
"Highball?"
"Don't make it strong," her younger sister Hina replied.
She glanced at me, blushed slightly and looked back at her phone.
Hina sat at the low table. Her legs were tucked tight. She was wearing an old shirt of Aya's. It was too big. I could see her pale petite collarbone.
I liked Hina. She just turned 20. She was slim and quiet. A more reasonable girl than my girlfriend Aya, some would say.
The kitchen light flickered. Aya didn't seem to notice. She reached for a square bottle behind the dish soap.
The cheap whiskey glugged into two mismatched mugs. Aya didn't really measure. She rarely did.
I sat on the floor, my back against the sofa. It was hot and humid, and I just watched the way Aya walked over and set the mugs down. They way she moved always made me think of sex.
The ice clinked as mugs touched down on the table.
As Aya bent over, the light caught a thin line of silver around her neck. A small, polished teardrop pendant we bought earlier that day. It looked pretty out of place against her faded tank top.
Hina didn't take her drink. She stared at Aya's neck.
"That's new," Hina said. Feebly.
Here we go. I knew she'd ask.
Aya took a long drink. She let the ice sit in her mouth for a second before swallowing. She leaned back, legs splayed slightly.
"Ah, you noticed."
"It looks expensive," Hina said. She looked at the pendant, then at me, then back at the silver. "Where did you get the money for that?"
Aya's nostril flared, condescendingly.
"I earned it," Aya said.
"Earned it?" Hina repeated. "At the convenience store? I don't think so. I know how much they pay."
She was tense. Her shoulders were pulled up almost all the way to her ears.
Aya looked at me. Her eyes were dark. Certain. Not hesitant.
"We did a stream," Aya said. Her voice was conversational. Like she was talking about the weather. "Kaito and I."
Hina frowned. "A stream? You mean… like... YouTube?"
"A sex stream," Aya said.
The word hung in the air. It got so quiet I could hear the refrigerator humming.
Hina's face slowly went from pink to a deep red. She looked down at the table. She stared at a scratch in the wood, then at the whiskey. She didn't look at me.
"You're lying," Hina whispered.
"The necklace says I'm not," Aya said. She touched it, playfully. "Two hours. I made more in two hours than in a whole week at the store."
I thought we made the money together—not just you…
Aya was like that. When something was good, it was about her. When it sucked, it was about someone else. Usually, me, at present.
"Mom is going to kill you," Hina said, but her words lacked weight.
"Mom is at Grandma's right now," Aya replied. "And Mom is the reason I did it. Do you like to live like this? Do you like smelling like grease after work? Do you like counting coins for the bus?"
Hina didn't answer. She took a sip of the highball. She grimaced at the strength of it—she knew better than asking Aya not to make a drink strong—but she still took another gulp.
Aya gave her a nod.
"Why are you so worried?" she said calmly. "I'm not hooking in the alley. I did it with Kaito. If people want to pay to watch us, let them pay."
Hina's shoulders trembled. "You mean… You mean you'd do it again?"
"I will," Aya said. "Tomorrow night."
I shifted my weight. The floorboards creaked. Hina's eyes darted to me. They were wide, a little glassy with the alcohol and the shock.
Her eyes somehow feel deeper than Aya's.
She was looking at me differently now. Probably thinking of the silver necklace.
Aya looked at me too. With a small smile.
"It could be a way out, Hina," Aya said. "And I'll do what it takes. No more poverty. No more stupid rules that keep us broke."
Hina pouted. It was a childish pout, as if Aya took a favorite toy away from her.
She took another large gulp of her drink.
"It's not fair." Hina looked at the pendant. "Why do you always get... better things?"
Aya leaned back.
"No one is stopping you."
Hina didn't move. She didn't blink.
She just stayed completely still for a moment.
"What do you mean?" she mumbled at last.
She was breathing through her mouth now. Shallow.
"You're twenty, Hina," Aya said. She reached out and traced the rim of Hina's mug. "You're pretty. You're 'pure.' That's a currency. Why let it go to waste?" She leaned back. "Let's do it together."
Hina stared. At Aya. Then at me. Her face was a dark, hot red.
"How..." Hina's voice cracked midsentence. "How does it work?"