Becca Ritchie - Kiss the Sky

Before his brother can respond, Lo turns his attention back to Lily. “You have to believe me,” he says, desperation lacing his voice.

“I do,” she says, no hesitation.

Relief floods his face. He walks to the bed and reaches for a hug.

But then something strange happens. Lily pushes Loren in the chest and then she points her finger at him. “But it’s not okay. It’s not.” Her chin quivers and she tries to gather this shadowy strength that likes to flit away from her. “You can’t stop taking them just because it drives you nuts. And it’s not okay that you kept this from me…from us…”

They’re both crying now, and it feels intrusive watching them fight like this.

“My chest is on fire,” I tell Connor. I really want to leave. But we still have to talk to Lily about the videotape.

He rubs my back and kisses my temple.

It feels good. To have him. In these moments, I can’t imagine reverting back to being alone. I would feel outnumbered and unspun.

Loren holds my sister in his arms. Or maybe she’s holding him. It’s hard to tell.

“We’re in a fight, just so you know,” she whispers. “I’ll sleep in Daisy’s bedroom.”

His face twists in hurt now. “You haven’t had sex in three days. I was going to…” He drifts off as Lily shakes her head.

“I don’t care about sex. I care about you being healthy and not drinking.”

I’m grinning. I can’t stop it. It’s fucking happening. My chest lifts. Doused with water. Those words I don’t care about sex have never left that girl’s mouth.

Loren looks just as surprised, just as in awe as me.

“We have another issue,” Ryke interjects.

I glare hatefully. “We don’t have to bring that up now,” I say. My sister just denounced sex, the compulsive, harmful kind. We should throw her a party not question her about the alleged bathroom blow job.

Ryke looks at me like I lost brain cells and then grabs the camera. “Watch this,” he tells Lily and Loren.

They stand behind the camera as the footage replays, and Lily’s cheeks redden the further along. When we all hear her say “Can I give you a blow job?” her eyes bug, and her hand shoots to the air like she’s ready to answer a question in class.

“I was having a bad day,” she defends.

“Shhh,” Loren hisses, his eyes narrowed at the camera. The moaning and groaning begin and Lily suddenly shares his confusion. “What is this?” Lo asks. “Is this some kind of fucked up joke?”

“You tell us,” Ryke refutes. “You’re fucking in a public bathroom in the middle of the afternoon.”

“Nooo,” Loren says the word slowly. “We didn’t fuck in the bathroom. We don’t fuck anywhere but our bedroom. Someone must have tampered with the video.”

“So you didn’t ask to give Loren a blow job?” I question my sister.

Her rash-like flush spreads to her neck and arms. “I did do that…” she mutters.

“And then I told her no,” Loren adds. I don’t know what to believe. I want to put faith in them, but the evidence is convincing. How does a person even edit a video on the actual camera? It’s not as if we’re watching the footage from a computer.

“What were you actually doing for thirty minutes in the bathroom?” Connor asks casually. His questions always seem less like an interrogation and more like a conversation.

Ryke and I fail on that front.

“I was giving Lily a pep talk,” Lo explains.

“I needed one,” she agrees. Her eyes flicker to his in gratitude, but then she must remember her earlier declaration because she takes a step to the side to put distance between them. “We’re still in a fight.”

Loren’s throat bobs at her words. “I’m going to start taking Antabuse again, Lil,” he whispers.

“Good,” she says with a nod. Then she looks to Ryke. “Fast-forward to the end. When we come out of the bathroom, I know I’ll look disappointed.”

Ryke presses a button and the footage speeds up, when he hits play, we all wait in anticipation, as if this is the only piece of evidence we have left.

On screen, Lily and Lo exit the bathroom, and before anyone says a thing, Lily goes, “Ah-ha!” She points to the footage. “I look so upset.”

I frown and bend closer to the screen. She needs her eyesight checked. I put my hands on my hips as I lean further. Really, what is she looking at? All I see is Lily’s flushed face and her hand in Lo’s. Their demeanor is natural, almost content.

“That’s you disappointed?” Ryke says in disbelief. “You’re sweating and your face is red.”

“It was hot in the bathroom,” Lily defends.

“It was,” Loren agrees but his voice has changed. Where Lily is frantic, Lo looks resolute as if he’s accepted the fact that this looks bad for them.

“Are they going to air this?” Lily wonders.

“Probably,” Connor says, “but it helps promote your wedding. The bad edit would be you slipping into the bathroom with another guy.”

“We’re just concerned about your health,” I say.

“I didn’t have sex, Rose,” Lily tells me with pleading eyes. “I’m doing better. I mean, I shouldn’t have asked Lo that...that question. But besides that, I’m doing better.”

I have to trust her. I know this.

But if Lily didn’t blow her boyfriend in a public restroom and if Loren didn’t drink, then there’s only one other guilty party.

Production.

Scott Van Wright.

I’m going to kill him.

I convinced everyone to keep their production-tampering suspicions to themselves. If we give production a reaction, they win. They all agreed after a few hours, but Rose, Ryke, and Loren have short fuses. It’s only a matter of time until one of them detonates.

Five days later and I have other obligations to attend to. Like an apocalyptic dinner with my mother and my girlfriend.

I wait for Rose in my limo that hugs the curb. The townhouse is lit by bulbs in the dining room, flickering through the windows. Our home is also guarded by her father’s hired security. I’m about to call her to see what’s taking so long. I doubt she’d want to be late the first time meeting my mother. If I could, I’d drive this limo past the restaurant and into a hotel or Rose’s office. Anywhere to avoid the chaos of the night.

Rose has expressed about twelve times in the past three hours that she wants to impress my mother. The confession nearly had me laughing. Rose Calloway wants to impress someone, a feat she has never been a hundred-percent successful in. But for some reason, I feel like if she fails this time, I’m partially to blame. Katarina is my mother after all.

My phone pings before I call her.

Daisy, Lily, me – Rose

My eyes narrow at the list. We started playing Fuck, Marry, Kill again on the plane. And when I gave her three inanimate objects, she almost whipped out her pepper spray and used the whole canister on me.

She’s been simmering. Waiting for a chance to get me back.

She definitely has.

I cringe as I try to find a suitable answer without offending anyone.

And then I press send.

I’d fuck, marry, and kill you. – Connor

Oh. He is not getting out of this one that easily. He made me admit to fucking a tree, killing an orange and marrying a book. He is not cheating. I didn’t.

With the phone in one hand, I struggle to text him back and snap my high heels at my ankles. My old silver peep-toes betrayed me today. The heel broke when I walked down the stairs, so I’ve had to hurry for an alternative, which happen to be black heels with too many buckles.

“LILY!” I shout.

After a long pause, she says. “I’M NOT COMING OUT!”

I purse my lips. I forgot. Loren and Lily have been isolating themselves in their rooms for three days and counting. They’re waiting for Scott to apologize for the Magic Mike ploy and generally every vile comment he’s made to Lily. I think what finally tipped the boat was when he told her to go suck a cock with Lo right there. Just to start a fight.

Instead of attacking Scott, they’re both hoarded in their rooms, outsmarting him. He’s not getting any footage with the couple unless they have to sneak to the bathroom. I don’t know how they’re eating because neither I nor Ryke will feed into this crazy plot. Being isolated from us is a way to fester their addictions. I don’t like it, but I can’t coax them out without letting Scott win.

I do have a suspicion that both Daisy and Connor have been supplying them with breakfast essentials and microwaved meals. I caught Daisy with three empty bowls of cereal in her hands. And since her photo shoot for Marco Jeans is quickly approaching, I highly doubt she’s eating that much.

And I can’t call Daisy down here either. She’s not at the townhouse. I’ve seen her for maybe three hours total in the past two weeks. That’s how busy she’s been with school and modeling. I asked the guards when she got in last night and they said three a.m.—riding home from New York. The perks of being wealthy: we have a family driver that each of us can use if we want, so no one has to worry about her sleeping or drinking at the wheel. But it hardly helps diminish the other concerns I have for my little sister.

Savannah points her camera at me, and she gives me a look like she wishes she could help me with my heels. I asked all of the cameramen to kindly stay behind while Connor and I go see his mother, who does not want to be filmed. They’ve all graciously accepted, and Connor had a guard sweep the limo to make sure there weren’t any hidden cameras.