Текст книги "Kiss the Sky"

Автор книги: Becca Ritchie

Соавторы: Krista Ritchie
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

Savannah clears her throat. She has red hair. “Or redheads.”

“What about gray hair?” His eyes flicker up a little. He’s staring at Scott, who stands off screen. “You’re forgetting black hair too. And purple, blue, orange—”

Lo is back, glaring.

“Wow,” Lo says, his hand on Lily’s head, still concealed in his shirt. “They cut off your little rant, Connor. How’d that feel?”

“Chapped,” Connor says easily.

“Come here, I’ll rub your ass for you.”

Connor smiles into his sip of wine. But it must be annoying that Scott has the power to shut him up with a simple edit. I can see his irritation in the tight muscles of his jaw.

“Who’s the messiest?”

“Ryke.”

“Me.”

“Ryke.”

“Have you ever been with a man before?”

Lo cocks his head to the side. And he flashes a bitter, dry smile, not giving anyone anything they want to hear.

“No,” Ryke says.

Connor wears an unreadable expression. “Many people want to be with me. I may give them all my attention, but I’ll only be with a handful, and of those, I’ll only really like a few.”

“Who has the best legs?”

“Lily,” Loren says. “But she won’t believe me if I say it.”

Ryke rubs his lips in thought.

Loren glares at him like “you better not have fucking said her name”—but I think we all hear Daisy in his head anyway.

“Rose,” Ryke grimaces.

I laugh into my sip of champagne.

“Rose,” Connor says. “And then me, of course.”

“Top or bottom?”

Lo glares. “Top.”

Ryke shakes his head in annoyance. “I don’t care.”

“Top.” Connor grins. “Always.”

“Do you think Daisy is as sexually active as Lily?”

Lo’s eyes flash cold. He stands up. “I’m done with this sh*t.”

“What the f**k kind of question is that?” Ryke asks. He rises and chucks a pillow.

“No, she’s not,” Connor says definitively. He stands and buttons his suit jacket. “That’s enough for the day.”

While we go to commercial break, Daisy picks herself off the ground, her cellphone in hand. She tries not to make eye contact with any of the guys. It’s clear that the media is trying to determine whether or not my little sister will turn out like Lily.

And this fact only causes Lily to stay buried in Lo’s shirt, not only doused with shame but now guilt.

My chest hurts for both my sisters, but there’s nothing in my power that can reverse what’s happened. Maybe my clothing line isn’t worth this attention.

I scroll on my phone. My sales…they’re up by ten percent so far. The little ads that cut to the commercials must be helping. They say, Purchase the clothes worn by the Calloway sisters right now! And they show the links to the CC website.

I wish my body didn’t soar by the small success. A part of me wishes this reality show was a failure so I could easily choose my sisters’ welfare over my dream. I should do it. Two years ago, I think I would have. But I wonder if Lily would ever forgive herself for driving my company to the ground. I think she needs to know that my company is okay too—that she didn’t destroy everything with her addiction.

Daisy’s phone slips between her fingers and clatters to the floor. She bends down to pick it up, forgetting that she’s in a black backless dress I designed, short on her thighs. The dress immediately rides up, showing half her ass since she wears cut-off boy-short underwear.

My little sister has sufficiently mooned the crowd.

Ryke is the closest to Daisy. “Fuck,” he curses, quickly standing behind her. He grabs the hem of her dress and tugs down.

The three guys look over their shoulders at the nearest camera.

“Did they see her…?” Lo trails off, not able to talk about Daisy’s ass without cringing.

“That one did.” Connor motions to a photographer with horned-rimmed glasses, gesturing for him to come over to us. As the photographer nods and approaches, Connor pulls out his phone and makes a quick call.

Daisy struggles to pick up her cell.

“Daisy, grab the fucking thing,” Ryke tells her, having to literally tug her dress down three more times as she moves.

She finally snatches the phone and spins towards him with a large smile. “Got it!”

Ryke stares at the hem of her dress, making sure it’s not riding up. I should be the one doing it, but I’m slightly tipsy, and I fear moving the wrong direction in my four-inch heels. I already sway a little. If it wasn’t for Connor’s hand protectively on my waist, I would have stumbled by now.

“Are you checking out my ass?” Daisy asks with the raise of her eyebrows

“Yeah, so did the rest of the fucking party.”

“So what’d you think? On a scale of one to ten.” She grins playfully.

“I’m not rating your ass.”

“Will you ride it then?”

“Daisy,” I interject. Stop, I mouth. She pushes Ryke too far, and he’s not one to back down from these kinds of conversations.

Daisy’s smile fades. “Sorry…I was just messing around.” She flips her phone in her hand. “I’m going to go…mingle.”

Now I feel bad.

“No,” I tell her sharply. “You’re staying.”

“No, it’s cool. I need to go talk to Mom anyway.” She avoids Ryke who stares down at her with a strong gaze—filled with this unadulterated concern. It’s strange for such a hard-lined guy to have such potent empathy for others. But I’ve seen it come out on more than one occasion.

Connor speaks into the receiver of his phone. “Greg, you see this photographer nearing me?”

So he called my father.

Connor continues, “He has a picture of your daughter’s ass. I’m going to take the camera if you don’t send someone to do it.”

I hear my father say, “Which daughter? And I have someone on the way. Thank you.”

“Daisy.”

My father lets out a large sigh. “That one’s going to kill me.”

Connor’s lips slowly upturn, and his eyes glimmer with this unbridled longing. It’s powerful but barely visible. Fleeting. Like an eclipse of the sun.

He truly wants children.

He wants the challenges that each one brings.

He smiles as though he can’t wait for that day where he has to deal with the hard parental choices, the dilemmas, the chaotic situations he must calm.

He does want it all.

But I’m afraid I may not be able to give it to him.

[ 18 ]
CONNOR COBALT

The screening party has been going relatively fine until I watched Samantha Calloway fawn over every bullshit line that came out of Scott’s mouth. He complimented her brown hair three fucking times, and Rose’s mother was close to melting at his feet. At least her father is on my side.

He texted me: I don’t like him. – Greg

To the point, a heart with good intentions. No bullshitting around. That’s Greg Calloway. His wife isn’t as benevolent, intelligent or non-judgmental. She has a WASP elitist mentality that would make my mother internally roll her eyes.

It’s mostly Rose’s parents that have my stomach in knots. Because even though I’ve appeared only twice in the show, edited to look disinterested in my own girlfriend, it’s their opinions that matter to me, not the public, not strangers—just people that I need to impress. Because one fucking day, I plan to marry that girl, and I want them to realize that I’m the best man for Rose. And that no one else can come even marginally close.

Rose’s anxiety is sedated with five glasses of champagne, and she relaxes into my chest while I hold her around the waist. Since the aired footage has been mostly about the “love triangle” for the past fifteen minutes, Lily bottles her emotions and finally emerges from Lo’s shirt, her cheeks tear-streaked and pink. I have a feeling Lo will be carrying her out of the venue. Most likely in a front piggy-back.

We’re nearing the last five minutes. I think they’ll end with a Lo and Lily clip, but as soon as Scott Van Wright’s face fills every big screen with the caption—Heartthrob. Rose’s ex-boyfriend—I realize they’re going to continue to capitalize on the love triangle.

So here we go, Scott. What do you have left for me?

“I think about her all the time,” he says with an insincere, wistful smile. “She’s a firestorm that I won’t ever smother. I’m the one who inflames her, who riles her to a new, confounding degree. She’s my perfect match.”

My face falls. And I unwillingly let everyone see my shock. I can’t hold it in this time.

Because those last lines are mine. I said them in an interview.

And he stole them from me.

“I hate him,” Rose says under her breath, her eyes narrowed. She can’t see my reaction since she stands in front of my body while I hold her from behind.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“He plagiarized you.”

I let out a breath. “Comment peux-tu le dire?” How can you tell?

“Who riles her to a new, confounding degree?” she repeats. “Only you would say that…and maybe me.”

I kiss her cheek and wrap my arms tighter around her waist. She eases back into me. He can’t come between us.

“I’m still in love with her,” Scott says. “And I can’t help what I feel, but it’s there. I love Rose the way she deserves to be loved. I just…” He shakes his head like he’s filled with worry. “I just don’t see Connor being the best thing for her. He’s too self-absorbed to care for that girl the way I do. And I hope, over the course of living with her again, she’ll realize that we’re meant to be.”

“Murder is still illegal in Pennsylvania, right?” Rose asks.

“And the United States, and the world,” I tell her.

“Dammit.”

And then the screen fills with me.

Back in the study room where I sit on a desk chair:

“What do you think of Scott?” Savannah asks.

I stay complacent. “I find him comparable to a little teenager jimmying the lock of my house.” I stare right at Scott in the room, who’s off screen, hovering over Savannah’s shoulder as she films me. I add, “He’s nothing more than a petty thief, trying to take what’s mine. Is that honest enough for you?”

“And what about Rose?”

“What about Rose?”  This is where I said what Scott just did. I called her my perfect match, but it’s edited out completely.

“Do you love her?” Savannah asks.

The abrupt cut makes me look more callous than I am. More inhuman and unfeeling than I ever want to be. I stare off for a long time as I gauge my answer, picking my words carefully. To tell the truth. Or to lie.

“Love is irrelative to some.”

Most people let me stop there. They never make me elaborate.

But Savannah says, “And is it to you?”

I have a couple fingers to my jaw, and I smile, something that looks empty and soulless on screen. “Yes,” I say. “Love holds no meaning in my life.”

The show fades to black with that last line. In the full-length interview, I added, “But Rose is at the epicenter of my world, whether I allow myself to love her or not.”

It was all cut.

And as the large crowd claps and talks amongst themselves about the show, Lo and Ryke turn on me with dark scowls. Rose grabs another champagne glass off a tray and leans back into my chest, unaffected by my words like them.

“So was that the real Connor Cobalt?” Lo asks, his arm around Lily who stares at me with the same furrowed brows. She glances at her sister with more concern. They’re on Rose’s side. As they should be.

“I spoke honestly,” I say. “And that wasn’t the first time I’ve done so.”

“So you’ve never loved anyone?” Lo asks. “Not another girlfriend, not your mom, your dad or a friend?”

He wants to know if I think of him more than just a contact like Patrick Nubell. Am I using Loren Hale for his father’s company, the multi-billion dollar baby product franchise? At first, yes. Now, no.

He’s my real friend. Maybe my first one ever.

But have I loved him the way a friend loves another friend? I don’t think I’m wired that way.

“No,” I say. “I’ve never loved anyone, Lo. I’m sorry.”

Rose points to Lo, her champagne glass pinched between her fingers. “Let it go, Loren. I have.”

“Why,” Lo asks, “because you’re both cold androids?”

Rose shoots him a look that would be harsher if she didn’t drink so much tonight. I need to get her to bed before she passes out. “It’s just how he is. If you even understood half of Connor Cobalt’s beliefs, your head would spin.”

“Rose,” I say, worried she’s going to fracture my relationship with Loren. While he doesn’t know me like she does, I’ve never lied to him. I just haven’t shown him all of me. And that shouldn’t be a bad thing. Some people are naturally private. I am.

She tries to defend me, stepping towards Lo and skillfully staying upright. I hold her by the waist to steady her movements. “No, Connor has done nothing wrong.”

“He doesn’t love you,” Lo sneers. “He’s been with you for over a year, Rose.”

“Lo,” Lily warns.

“No,” Lo says, “she needs to fucking hear this.” He points accusingly at me. “What the hell kind of guy stays with a girl for that amount of time without anything in return? If he’s doesn’t love you, then he’s just waiting to fuck you.”

He pokes at the most vulnerable part of my relationship with Rose. “She doesn’t need your protection,” I say to Lo, trying to keep my voice even-tempered, but Rose wavers uneasily in my arms. “She knows who I am.”

“So you’re okay with that then?” Lo asks her. “He’s going to fuck you, and then he’s going to be out of here. Does that make you feel good, Rose? You’ve waited twenty-three goddamn years to lose it, and you’re going to give it to a guy who can’t even fucking admit that he loves you.”

“I’m not going to admit something that I don’t feel,” I tell him. He opens his mouth, but I cut him off, “Would you like me to sit you down and fill your head with numbers and facts and relativities? You can’t stomach what I have to say because you won’t understand it, and I know that hurts you. But there’s nothing I can do to change the way things are. I am a product of a mother as brick-walled as me, and trust me when I say that you won’t ever see more than I give you. In order to be my friend, that has to be enough, Lo.”

He lets this sink in and then he says, “And what about you, Rose, is that enough for you?”

Lily reaches out and touches her hand.

Rose nods stiffly, and she holds Lily’s hand tighter. “I’m going to go to the bathroom. You guys can meet us at the car.” Lily supports her sister with an arm around her waist as they head through the dispersing crowds.

I watch her, making sure she safely leaves, and then I glance back at Lo. The look he gives me—it asphyxiates me for more than a few seconds.

He stares at me like he yanked off my superhero cape and grounded me to the mortal world.

“I just want you to know,” Lo says, “that I lost some respect for you tonight. And you’re not going to get it back so fucking easily.”

Ryke says nothing. He just wears a haunted, dark expression.

“Sure,” I say. “I understand.”

Lo rubs his lips; his jaw clenches, and he nods to Ryke. They head out to the car without me.

I stay still and try to gather my feelings that tangle in a muted mass.

What kind of person needs a therapist to tell them how they feel?

Am I not as smart as I believe or am I just human?

[ 19 ]
ROSE CALLOWAY

I can’t come. I’m so, so, so sorry! Just make sure no lilies, okay? And remember that I like your taste better than mom’s. THANK YOU! – Lily

I receive the text as soon as I arrive at the florist to pick out arrangements for the wedding.

Four months and two days – Mom

It’s like the countdown to the Apocalypse.

I text my sister back, telling her it’s fine. At least she didn’t make up a stupid excuse this time. Her “stomachaches” for the past month have been more about her fear to come face to face with our judgmental mother.

Lily went from being ignored by our mom to being told to close her legs. To wear a lighter pink lip gloss (on the rare day she does wear makeup). To comb her hair so it doesn’t look tangled in a post-sex haze.

She ridicules. And we both know it’s not out of love, but her obligation to protect the reputation of the family.

I look around the flower shop quickly. Brett follows me today with his steadicam, nimbly keeping out of customers’ way as he films me. I arrived twenty minutes early so I could pick out what I liked and so my mother would have a harder time bulldozing my opinion.

First, I choose pink and cream roses for the centerpieces. I wait impatiently while the florist demonstrates an arrangement. She has tinsel sticking out from flowers. “Simpler,” I urge. “Just the flowers. We’ll put them in one long row down the table. No separate vases, so it will look like one extended centerpiece.” I look around and spot the table of white roses. “These for the bouquet. And we can wrap the stems in pearls.” I’m not sure if Lily will approve, but at this point it’s clear she doesn’t care.

The only request for the past two months has been no lilies. Otherwise, I’m walking around blind.

While I wait for my mother, I click onto Twitter and type in #PoPhilly. A list of tweets pops up.

@RaderBull595: The Calloway girls are hot, but that tall one is such a bitch. I’d bang Lils though.

@TVDFan70008: Have you seen the way Lo looks at Lily? *swoon*

@thefieryheart: Brb building a shrine for Ryke and Daisy!

@RealityXbites4: I loooove this show!! #TeamScott

@SlightlySpoiled: Can’t wait for Rose to dump Connor. Fry his dick! #please

Lovely.

The reviews for the show have been much better than any of us could ever expect. Even though we’re labeled “foul mouthed, rich, and conceited” most of the articles congratulate us for being real. For not trying to put on fake faces in front of the cameras. Daisy burps, Lily says sexual comments on accident, and I threaten to castrate men. Some people like us for our flaws. Others still see us as caricatures. But I try not to let those comments bother me.

You can’t please everyone.

@Fashion4Goddesses: Just received my Calloway Couture dress! Gorgeous!

My heart swells at that tweet. Soon after the first episode aired, my sales skyrocketed. And they have continued to grow exponentially with each new episode. Fizzle has even seen a spike in its stock. Hopefully the success will last.

The bells on the door clink together, and I quickly pocket my phone in my purse. My mother struts through like she suddenly bought the entire store. Her nose upturns at a vase of half-wilted daisies.

“You’re early,” I tell her. Ten minutes to be exact.

“So are you,” she replies. “Where’s your sister?”

“She’s not coming.” I don’t use the stomachache excuse since I’ve overdone it already. Instead I try the truth. “She doesn’t like how you talk to her.”

“Lily has a voice of her own,” my mother snaps. “If she doesn’t like how I speak then she should tell me herself.”

I don’t say anything. I don’t tell her that she’s not the easiest woman to talk to, and it takes practice and skill—that even I come away feeling more neurotic and unspun.

“I already picked out the flowers,” I tell her.

She doesn’t seem surprised. “Then we have to choose between mine and yours because I already called in arrangements this morning.” Of course. She walks haughtily to a cabinet where white and orange lilies are gathered together with teal ribbon.

“She specifically said no lilies,” I say angrily. “I’ve already told you this ten million times.” Not only that but orange and teal. Really? Maybe for Daisy but Lily is more…subdued.

My mother huffs and fingers the string of pearls on her neck. Her greatest tell. When she’s particularly stressed or annoyed she touches them as though they’re rosary beads, praying to the Holy Father for her argumentative daughter to be docile and content.

“What’s wrong with lilies?” my mother asks. “Olivia Barnes’ daughter had them at her wedding and they were just gorgeous.”

“Her name is Lily,” I say. “She doesn’t find the pun as amusing as you do. And when she sees lilies everywhere, she’ll be upset.” Not to mention that we receive unsolicited bouquets of lilies along with fan mail almost every week. From men that fantasize about my sex addicted sister. Those flowers are tainted in her mind.

“I already ordered them, so what do you want me to do?” she says. “I can’t very well cancel, can I?”

“Yes, you can.”

 “I don’t understand why you’re so bent out of shape over the flowers.”

I stand my ground. “I know Lily better than you,” I remind her. “We’re going to accommodate her one and only request.”

My mother mumbles something that sounds like but she’s not even here to voice it herself. Her eyes flit around the room before she huffs again. “What alternatives do you have in mind?”

I show her the white and pink roses I picked out.

She gives me a look. “Don’t make this about you, Rose.”

My lips press into a thin line and I’m sure my nose flares. “My name and the flower are not synonymous, Mother.”

Poppy, my older sister, has never had trouble talking to her. Most of the time she just agrees willingly so that arguments don’t begin. Same with Daisy.

I can’t be agreeable with someone I know is wrong, regardless of her being my mother or not. I’m not sure when I had the courage to say no. But she still doesn’t understand that my opinion isn’t less because I’m her child. I’m twenty-three years old. She may see me as a little girl who stands behind her at dance recitals, who tugs on her arm for advice about other girls in school, but I’m an adult now.

I appreciate her advice, I do, but I also have the right to disagree with it. And yet, this direction only causes arguments and fights. Neither of us can win if we’re in the same room.

My mother stares at the roses with narrowed eyes. I remember Daisy’s advice when I couldn’t get my mother to stop arguing with me. “Tell her you love her,” she said. “That always works for me when I want something.”

I give it a shot. “I love you, Mother—”

“Oh, don’t even start, Rose. I haven’t heard you say that in five years.”

I suppose she’s right. Since I rarely show affection to my mother, it makes sense that Daisy’s I love yous seem like blinding rainbows in comparison.

She spins on her heels and her eyes hit mine. They haven’t softened. “You can cancel the order,” she says. “But I’m not done discussing the flowers or the centerpieces. God knows we both can find something better than an ice swan.”

I try to smile. “That sounds good.”

“How is Daisy doing?” she asks.

“Good.” I don’t elaborate. She talks to Daisy enough. Whenever my sister is on the phone, it’s usually with her. And I have no right to keep Daisy with me after the reality show wraps. There’s nothing I can do but wait until Daisy’s older—to see if she’d like to live with us and distance herself from our mother a little more. To finally breathe the way I know she wants to. It’s going to be a long wait, but I’m willing to suffer through it.

“Good.” She nods.

I pause for the rest of her question, but it never comes. “You’re forgetting your other daughter.”

“Lily is twenty-one,” she refutes. “She’s lying in the bed she made for herself.”

I shouldn’t have said anything.

“How can you plan her wedding if you’re still bitter over the scandal?” I ask in detest.

“Because this wedding is the only thing that will return her reputation, and it’ll wipe the stain she’s set to the Calloway name. It’s more important than my bitterness. It has to be perfect.”

She looks me over, as if reminding me that the perfect element of the wedding is my job. “We need to schedule a venue by the weekend. I’ll send you my top choices. Keep your phone on.” She gives me a tight, rigid hug before leaving the store. And leaving me feeling more overwhelmed than before.

So much shit to do. Like planning a bachelorette party. I would have hired male strippers—but for a recovering sex addict, that’s not the smartest theme. I think Lily and Lo want to have a joint bachelor and bachelorette party anyway.

As I head out the door and find my Escalade on the curb, my mind reverts back to everything that’s been happening with Connor. His thumb. The shower. Love.

Loren may believe that Connor won’t be there for me at the end of the line, but that night at the screening party made me realize how much I do trust him. How much I do know him. Lo was wrong on so many accounts, and that’s only because Connor has let me see more than a couple sides of his life.

Whether Connor says it or not, he loves me enough to let me in more than halfway. And I know it’s time for me to do the same on a different kind of level.

I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Connor.

Bring wine tonight.

Since Lo is sober, we try to keep alcohol out of sight, so I have a trunk in our bedroom that I’ll store our stash in. I pause to think about my choice of alcohol. Wine? I’m probably going to need something stronger.

And tequila.

I take a breath and wait for the text.

Is there a reason we’ll be drinking tonight? – Connor

Surprise. I reply back.

Can’t wait ;) – Connor