Everyone stays quiet.
And she deflates again. “What? What did I do?”
“That guy practically stuck his hand down your bathing suit,” Ryke tells her, “and you didn’t care.”
Melissa has her arms crossed over her chest. Her mood is slowly tanking.
Rose shoots me a harsh look and mouths girl time. Yes. Definitely.
I take Daisy’s hand, wanting air too but mostly wanting Daisy out of their judgmental gazes for a second.
“Wait, I didn’t do anything wrong,” she says. “He was just being nice.”
“Are you really that naïve?” Lo questions. “Because if you are, we should consider sending you home before something terrible fucking happens.”
“I’m not naïve,” she says. “He was happy.”
Ryke cringes. “You let him slap your ass because it made him happy?” Yeah, that doesn’t sound right.
“Okay,” I interject. “We’re leaving. Right Rose?”
“Yes.” She sets a glare on each of the guys.
Connor raises his hands. “I didn’t say a word.”
Her eyes soften at him. “You’re exempt.”
“Daisy,” Ryke says with so much emotion to the name that shivers run down my arm. And it’s freakin’ hot out here. I think he wants to say a lot of things to her—give her some sort of pep talk about how she doesn’t have to please other people to make herself feel better—that doing so will hurt her in the end. But Melissa leans her head down and starts whispering in his ear, deterring him from speaking his mind.
So Daisy says, “I’ll see you around.” And she actually drags me off towards a tiki bar that sits on the beach. Rose races behind us, wanting out of the mobs of people too.
We rest our elbows on the counter, and I buy a water bottle while Rose and Daisy wait for the bartender to blend their margaritas.
Rose raps her nails on the counter, antsy as always. “Daisy,” she says. “Do you have something you need to tell us?”
Daisy stands between Rose and me, and she rocks on the balls of her feet. “I’m not going to sleep with that guy,” she says. “I wouldn’t. I just told him I thought he was good looking, and then afterwards, I asked him about sharks.”
I frown. “Really?” It was that PG? Maybe all of us are so focused on sex. We’re the gross ones.
“I mean, he said some suggestive things, but I wasn’t trying to flirt back. Honest.” She shrugs like it’s nothing. “I’m used to it.”
“Which part?” Rose asks icily. “The touching or the flirting? Because if you’re going on photo shoots where the crew is putting a hand on you—”
“Nonono,” she says, slurring the word like me when I’m trying to cover up a lie. “That has never happened. Mom comes with me. She wouldn’t let anyone touch me inappropriately.”
Rose believes her. She nods, but I stare at Daisy for a long time, not as trusting. Maybe because I have lied for so long that I can see right through it.
Daisy meets my worried gaze and she wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I’m okay, Lily.”
I don’t feel like she is.
I remember being young, trying to navigate what’s wrong and what’s right in a place where lines blur so very often. But I had Lo to fall back on—to make sure I didn’t fall off the deep end and drown.
Daisy is thrust into this modeling world without all of us there to catch her. She’s alone and confused. And I’m not sure how to fix that without telling her to quit. But she would never leave—not because of the money but because her career is related to our mother’s happiness. And keeping our mother happy makes Daisy happy.
My phone vibrates, and I check the caller ID. Poppy.
I click off the phone and slip it back into the pocket of my jean shorts.
“Who was that?” Daisy asks, talking over the loud blender.
“Poppy.”
Rose glares at the bartender for being so slow, and Daisy’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Why would you hang up on her?”
“I just don’t feel like talking.” It’s the truth. And anyway, my relationship with Poppy is distanced at best. She’s six years older, so by the time I entered ninth grade, she was two years into college and engaged.
Rose’s phone rings, and she answers the cell on the first chime. “Hello, Poppy.” She gives me a sharp look, but nothing nearly as upset as Daisy right now.
“Is that why you don’t answer my calls?” Daisy asks. “You just don’t feel like talking?”
The accusation hurts when I remember Daisy is four years younger than me—five years in August when I turn twenty-one. Almost the same age gap as Poppy and me.
But any ability to heal a relationship with my eldest sister has sailed long ago. She’s married. She has a baby and started a family of her own. I have a chance to be a sister to Daisy, and I’m trying my damned hardest.
“No, that’s not it, Dais.”
“Yes, Poppy, we’re having fun. The mojitos are weak, but the margaritas are usually good.” Rose’s sight is still planted on that sluggish bartender, taking ages to squeeze lime into the frozen slush. “Yes, Lily is with us. She couldn’t hear your cell because of all the noise.”
Daisy bumps my arm. “Then what is it?” she asks, waiting for a viable excuse. This is it, I think. This is the moment where I should come clean and tell her I have a sex addiction, and that, in the past, I preferred sex over anything else—even talking to her.
My throat tightens for a minute, and then I say, “I’m just all awkward on the phone. I guess I prefer texting.” The lie tastes bitter and rolls my stomach.
Daisy stares at the bar, quiet, which I’m not sure is a good or bad sign.
“What?” Rose says over the phone, perplexed. “Are you sure it was addressed to Lily?”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Hold on, let me ask.” Rose cups a hand to the receiver and tugs me away from the bar, separating from Daisy a little, but she joins us, curious. I would be too if I was her. “Did you mail a package to the Villanova house?” Rose asks. Villanova…my parent’s house? Why…
“Why would I do that?”
Rose’s bony shoulders stiffen in sharp angles.
“What package?” Daisy asks.
“Here talk to her.” Rose hands me the phone.
I press the cell to my ear, my nerves spiking. “Hey, Poppy. What’s going on?”
“Lily, I’m at the Villanova house for Maria’s birthday party,” she explains in a hushed tone, as if she’s afraid someone will hear. “Harold just brought the mail in, and there’s a package addressed to you. It’s from a website called Kinkyme.net. There are literally X’s all over the box. He was going to give it to Mom, but I stopped him before he could.”
“I didn’t order that,” I say quickly, my heart beating out of my chest.
“It’s fine if you did,” Poppy says gently, “I’m just wondering why you would mail something like that here. Mom would have your head.”
“Honestly, I really didn’t.”
Rose seems a little skeptical, and I wonder if she thinks I sent the package there to hide it from her and Lo or something. She trusts me about as much as Ryke trusts Lo.
I make a sudden decision. “Poppy, can you open it and see what it is?”
Rose’s eyes go wild, but now she can’t possibly believe I sent the package.
“Yeah, hold on,” she says. I hear her fumbling around and then the rip and tear of tape. Her voice lowers to a whisper. “It’s a dildo.”
I grimace.
“Wait, there’s a letter.” She pauses and the silence is agonizing. “Oh my God.”
“What-What does it say?” I stammer.
Rose taps her foot, annoyed that she can’t hear. Daisy rests a hand on my shoulder, comforting me even though she’s blind about the origin of my distress. The guilt starts creeping in almost immediately. I should have told her. Maybe not. Yes. No…I don’t know. My head hurts.
Poppy reads quietly, “‘
Dearest Lily, here’s something to keep you full at night.’” She pauses. “There’s no signature. Is it from Loren?”
“Why would Lo buy me a dildo?” I say out loud, unthinking.
“Dildo?” Daisy’s mouth falls open, connecting some of the dots.
“Who else would send something like this to you?” Poppy asks.
“It must be a stupid prank,” I say. From the blackmailer. “Can you throw it out before anyone else sees it? And can you tell Harold not to mention it?”
“Of course,” Poppy says. “If you’re having problems making friends at school—”
“It’s not prep school, Poppy. It’s college. No one is stealing my lunch money.”
“Then why would someone do this?”
“They must think it’s funny. I don’t know,” I say quickly. My throat is starting to close up with a lump and my voice threatens to shake. “Hey, do you want to talk to Rose?”
“Sure.”
I hand the cell to Rose, and she engages in a cordial conversation.
“Hey.” Daisy squeezes my shoulder in a side-hug. “It’s probably just some loser from Penn who’s pissed you never put out for him or something.”
Tears prick my eyes. She couldn’t be any further from the truth.
“Oh no, please don’t cry.” Daisy spins me around and grabs my hands, swinging my arms like she could dance with me at any second. “We’re in Cancun. Spring Break. The best week of the year. Don’t let some asshat get the best of you.”
She’s right, so I sniff and wipe my eyes. She pulls me in for a real hug, and her fingers go through my hair. She sighs enviously. “So short and pretty,” she says with a smile.
I rub my nose as we separate a little. “It’s greasy.”
She waves me off and her eyes wander towards the stage. I follow her gaze and spot the guys plus Melissa retiring from the huge crowd. I’ll have to tell Lo what happened. Not only does the blackmailer know I’m in Cancun, but they know my parent’s address.
He’s trying to unnerve me.
It’s kind of working.
{ 28 }
LOREN HALE
On the balcony, the music blasts from the pool below, but at least it’s more private than the bedroom. Everyone throws on nice clothes for the club tonight—our last outing in Cancun before we travel back to the real world with responsibilities and commitments.
I stare at the screen of my phone. Five missed calls from my therapist. I should call him back, but talking to Brian makes me feel like a failure. He carries this hypersensitive tone like I’ve already fucked up, and I can’t listen to that. I don’t want to hear him try to calm me down or to tell me that I should be tucked in my bed at home where alcohol doesn’t exist, where my vice isn’t staring me in the face.
Lily has made a better effort to stay in touch with her therapist. When I see her on the phone, Allison is usually on the other end.
I sit on the plastic chair and open a text message that my father recently sent.
Emily Moore
789 Huntington Drive
Caribou, Maine 04736
Whether he was feeling particularly generous, forthcoming, kind—he spontaneously gave me my birth mother’s address. I asked him for it only once. When he denied my request, I wasn’t about to grovel for it. Now that I know where she lives, I don’t know what to do. Seeing her will open new gates that may crash me backwards.
I’m not sure I’m ready to handle that.
My hand trembles, and I glance over my shoulder. No one watches me, but if I dial a number, they’ll believe my therapist is on the other end. No one will disturb me. That’s my hope at least.
I punch in a familiar number, and when the line clicks, he speaks before I have a chance. “Long distance calls aren’t fucking cheap. How do you expect to pay for it?”
My father’s words drill into me, bringing up an insecurity with such ease. “That’s really not your concern.”
“Greg Calloway gives his daughters an allowance. Lily can’t afford to support your apathy forever.”
I clench my phone tightly in my hand, trying so hard to focus. I had a reason to call him after all. “Well, since I am paying per minute, can you stop talking about money and let me speak?”
“Make it quick, I have to get back to a meeting.”
He stepped out of his meeting to answer my call?
That’s all that processes. Greg would have never stopped a meeting for one of his daughters. If Lily needed her father, he’d send an assistant and then find her after his work was finished. My father—he dropped everything for me growing up. If I called him at school, he was the one walking into the principal’s office. But I only needed him when I was in trouble, and he’d yell at me for causing it.
“Have you found the guy?”
“These things take time, Loren,” he says curtly. “Answers don’t just fall down from the goddamn sky.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a sharp breath. “Look, something else happened,” I say quickly. “He sent a package to the Calloway’s house.”
I hear rustling on his end like he’s looking for pen and paper. “Okay, give me the details.”
I explain the dildo and the note, trying to be specific, even though all I want to do is find this guy and make his life a living hell. He’s torturing her.
“He hasn’t asked for anything? Not a dime?”
“No.”
“This sick fuck is making it clear he doesn’t care or want to be found, but I’ll try my best.” He pauses. “How is she?”
I laugh bitterly. “Since when do you care?” He wasn’t fond of Lily when we were teenagers. He believed having a female as a friend was like girl repellent, and if she wasn’t putting out for me, then I should kick her to the curb. But I knew once I started a fake relationship with Lily, he’d be pleased. And he was. Only because she suddenly became of use to me.
I never saw her like that—an object that I could fuck or toss away. My father’s perception of women is demented.
“Please, she’s practically my daughter-in-law,” he says defensively. “And if Greg and Samantha Calloway ever find out she’s a sex addict, don’t think they won’t react accordingly.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means when you’re both fucking broke and homeless, I’ll be here to pick up the pieces. Just like I’ve always done with the two of you. Cleaning up your goddamn messes.”
I narrow my eyes at the ground. That’s his fucked up way of saying he’ll be there for me when everything goes to shit.
“Just find this guy,” I snap.
“Of course.” Voices puncture the other end and then he says, “I have to go. The partners are getting restless. Impatient, fucks. I’ll see you next week?”
I don’t know what for, but I just end up saying yeah. We hang up, and I feel as paranoid and anxious as I did before. Obviously, that did not help. No conversation with my father ever really does.
{ 29 }
LOREN HALE
The nightclub transforms into a live show, complete with impersonators, dancers, and flying trapeze artists. A huge square-shaped bar fills the center floor where girls dance and take body shots. Ever since I was ill from the fish tacos, I don’t even flinch when a drink passes by. I have no desire to be sick again.
The Calloway girls made a goal to drink and dance tonight, which I translated as: We’re getting drunk.
Connor, Ryke, and I promised them that they could go crazy and we’d be the responsible ones, fit to take care of them. For once, I’m on the other side of things. And it feels pretty good.
I like knowing that I have the power to keep Lily safe. Before, all of that seeped away with each whiskey I downed. So yeah, this is new. But it’s a good new.
The crowds aren’t as large as the concert yesterday, and Connor bought a balcony table so we can keep an eye on the girls. We’re seated on the highest level, and the psychedelic lights strobe around us—well, around Conn
or and me. Ryke is still in the bathroom.
I have a clear view of the three Calloway girls, all of them hovering around the square bar. Rose carries two glasses of some pink concoction, handing one to Daisy.
“Have you ever seen Rose drunk?” I ask Connor. The event has to be like a lunar eclipse or something.
“I don’t think she’d allow herself to exceed her limits.”
I nod in agreement. I’ve never even seen her beyond tipsy. “She’s probably too afraid she’ll get wasted and lose her virginity to a guy with an IQ less than hers.”
Connor breaks his usual placid expression, his mouth opening in slight surprise.
Oh shit. “What did I say?”
He takes a small sip of his wine and his face resumes its normal composed regime. “I didn’t know she was a virgin.”
Shit. Fuck. Shit. Lily is going to kill me. Hell, Rose is going to have my balls first. I should have known better than to open my goddamn mouth.
“I’m sorry,” I say slowly. “I thought you knew.” I scratch the back of my neck.
He stares at his glass and shakes his head. I can’t even begin to guess what he’s thinking. So I have to ask. “Is this a bad thing?” My heart crushes instantly at the thought. As much as Rose and I bicker and fight, I’d never want to ruin her relationship. Especially not with Connor, a guy who is pretty damn perfect for the girl.
He doesn’t say anything, and all my guilt suddenly morphs into anger.
“Hey, she’s a virgin, not a fucking leper.” I point a finger at him. “And if you dump her because of this then you’re a fucking prick. There are a million guys who would gladly be with Rose. For whatever reason, you met her incredibly high standards, and if you hurt her because she’s not experienced, I swear to God, Connor, you are going to wish you never met me.” I finish my rant, surprising myself as much as Connor.
I’ve learned a lot about myself being sober.
I guess I’m kind of protective of Lily, Daisy, and even Rose.
“Lo,” he says my name like I’m five years old and just threw a tantrum. “I don’t care that she’s a virgin. I care that we’ve been dating for six months and she hasn’t told me. Obviously, I’ve overestimated the progress in our relationship.” His eyes flicker down to Rose as she sways to the music beside Lily, and then he looks back to me. “And while I appreciate the sentiments behind that threat, it’s really unnecessary. I have no intention of hurting Rose.”
Addicted for Now (Addicted Series 2) Page 27
