Blonde Ivory

Chapter Five: Shiloh Levitsky

Shiloh Levitsky (Lead Singer of Blonde Ivory)

Things started off complaisant for me today. I woke up without suffering from dreams the night before. I had just enough toothpaste to brush my teeth. There was still hot water when I took a shower. I had some professional looking, freshly-ironed, clean clothes to wear to my individual meeting with Mark at noon.

When I walked downstairs, both Sodom and my father were waiting on me wearing clothes with just as fresh pretention as my own. At least, that is what my bandmates would have thought about the outerwear that my family collectively decided to wear today. We all look like regal wannabes. Like a pearl-wearing family from Connecticut. I might've agreed with them. The only difference is that we are not actually from Connecticut.

My sister and I were born in San Francisco, my mother born in Israel, and my father born in Russia. Some might think that my family being mixed in such ways is deniable and hardly true, yet, it is. They only feel that way because my mother doesn't look like the Orthodox Jew that she is. She was either blessed with the bright red hair or cursed with it. My father the same, a bright red-headed ginger. The only way some people can even tell that my mother is ethnically not white is by the golden, yellowish undertone of her otherwise light brown, tan skin.

My sister, Sodom, got lucky with the way her genetics worked out. She has the darker, auburn-like red hair. Red hair looks more appealing when it is dark and shiny. She inherited my father's height and his long, slim legs. Just to put the icing on the cake, she inherited Mom's light green eyes and her ethnically beautiful nose.

I, unfortunately, got handed the leftovers. A bright orange, wild mane with endless tangles and split-ends no matter how many times I brush it. My cheeks and nose are littered with hundreds of freckles, which is where the eyes of strangers linger after they have spotted my pointy nose. Just to make life a little easier, I guess, I was also cursed with short, stubby legs. I was blessed with my mother's skin tone and my father's gray eyes, though. There is nothing quite like having all the features of a white person- the pointy nose, the orange hair, the freckles- so people all around ask how I get such an even skin tone from fake tanning.

"Bushka, you have a-" My father adjusts his metal-rimmed glasses the very moment my toes touch the ground floor.

"Yes, papa, I know. A meeting with Mark at 12:15, a vocal lesson with our trainer at 1:30, and I have dinner with mom and her coworkers at 6:15." He smiles a rare smile, but to my surprise, shakes his head.

Oh god. Wrong time? Did I mess up on my memorization? I practiced the time and the activities at least four times each before I went to bed last night. How could I have managed to mess this up right in front of the only person who cares- Grigoriy Levitsky?

"No, bushka, but very well. See, Sodom, this is what the correct preparation and dedication to one's life and success looks like." He looks to my sister with his usual disappointed face. He turns back to me with a slightly annoyed smile, "No, you have a fuzz on your shoulder, bushka."

Oh, thank goodness. I swipe my shoulder and watch as the pillow fluff flies off and lands on the spotless, white carpet. Hopefully, nobody will notice that, but I know my father notices everything.

"Sodom, drive your sister to her meeting." My twin sister scowls at my father's request, but she quickly covers it up with a nod.

"Yes, Papa. I would gladly drive my sweet, innocent younger sister to her endless amounts of meetings. Nothing would make me happier than to please sweet, innocent Shiloh." I note the sarcasm, but my father does not notice my sister's tone.

He nods us off and just as we shut the door to our triplex, Sodom huffs. "Gosh, Shiloh, can you believe him? I already told him about my plans for the day. I was supposed to go to Jack's baseball game. We were totally going to bump shoulders afterward."