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Kim and Mom demand the guards to arrange tall vases of orchids

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Kim and Mom demand the guards to arrange tall vases of orchids. My sister directs some to the dining room while my mom focuses on the foyer. "Mount the vases below the borders." She turns to the dining room. "Kim, is the ice sculpture properly refrigerated?"

"Yes."

"Perfect."

"Hey, mom. Have you seen my fiancé?"

She looks to me, startled. "No. I haven't. Not since our dinner. What's the matter?"

"I'm not sure."

"Don't stress...she's just making you sweat a little before the big day. She'll turn up."

"Maybe." The pain from last night revisits my heart. An impending doom sweeps through my body. "Where's Tom and Sam? They're the last two I have to ask."

"The morons are boxing." Kim says from the dining room.

"Thanks." I ping an elevator to the lower level.

The boxing ring is right before the mall entrance. It's to scale...I didn't skimp out on the size. It has the same dimensions as a WWE ring. The two idiots are in black boxing gloves: throwing practiced hits. Jabs. Cross punches. Hook and uppercut. The footwork is flawless: side to side, forward and backwards in a sort of dance.

They mirror each other as if they're their own reflections. Quick ducks and ninja leg sweeps. This is Sam's strong suit. I remember when all of us got pairs of boxing gloves for Christmas. His eyes lit up. He out learned me and Tom. Even my father, who had military training. My brother was king of the house for 5 years straight. Until Tom finally got good.

I grin at his boasting swagger in the ring. I'm reminded of myself when I'm dominating on stage. He's in his element. The zone out, boss element. I clap him on. My brother looks over...and immediately lose his focus.

His dark eyes freeze on mine like a deer caught in headlights. He almost looks spooked...of me. There's remorse and empathy. A guiltiness... Why?? That's strange? Why does he look guilty? As if caught red handed. A look equivalent to being cornered by police.

"What's up, Jacy?" Tom breaks the ice. "Want to join?"

"No..." I stare at Sam with distrust. Why is he reacting this way? "I'm looking for Madison. Have you seen her, Sam?" I go for the weakest link. Tom is too resilient.

"No, we haven't seen her."

"I'm asking Sam, not you." My older brother is silent. Too silent. One of his tales is looking at the floor when he's found out. Mom always knew when he was lying as a teenager because of this trait. I keep my eyes on him as I enter the ring. The air between us is thick. The intensity is electric. I don't take my sight off of him as I approach him. I'm dead focused.

Tom blocks my path. "I said we haven't seen her."

"Speaking for him doesn't help. Now get out of my way before I stain those gloves red."

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