Rose appears behind us, her cheeks concaved and her yellow-green eyes frighteningly focused. Like a lioness ready to devour an antelope.
She places her hands on her h*ps and sets her target on Lo. “I’m not five-years-old, Loren. You can turn on the news.”
My throat swells. Does she already know? I can’t hide the pained expression on my face.
“No,” Lo says, his voice edged in nervousness. “I’d rather not.”
Daisy cups her hand to her mouth, whispering to me, “Should we tell her?”
I mimic the discreet gesture so Rose can’t read my lips. “Maybe not until Connor comes downstairs too.” He’s a crisis solver. He’ll make everything better, right?
Rose refuses to wait any longer. She’s already halfway across the room, her back arched like she’s building her defenses. She tries to steal the remote from Lo, but he won’t release his grip. They end up having a tug-of-war.
“Let go, Loren, unless you’d like me to dislocate your arm.”
“Aren’t you tired of making all these empty threats?”
She twists his forearm, and pain flashes in his face, wincing. He loosens his hold, and she claims the remote.
He rubs his arm. “Bitch.”
Not nice.
“Yes, but I’m a bitch with real threats.” She powers on the television, and the news explodes once more.
“Bet you feel like a bigger bitch right now,” Loren adds.
“Shut up, Lo,” I snap. This is not the time to attack my sister. “Rose…” She has frozen to the middle of the floor. I know, better than anyone, how horrifying and gut-wrenching it feels to see your dirty sex laundry scattered all over the media.
She waves me off and increases the volume to an obnoxious level. “The producer is none other than Scott Van Wright, Rose’s ex-boyfriend.”
They’re still perpetuating the ex-boyfriend lie? Rose remains transfixed to the screen, her posture tight, just livid, pure heat radiating off her stance.
Rose…
Tears almost threaten to rise. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Our lives. She was supposed to have the perfect wedding with the perfect guy with the perfect happily ever after. Being taken advantage of in pursuit to strengthen her career—it’s not fair. It’s not right.
People just suck.
Lo rises and seizes the remote from Rose, and she jerks back and hits another button.
The TV blares, and I cringe at the shrill sound.
“I’m watching this,” Rose says, managing to enunciate over the noise. The reporter plays clips from the actual sex tape. On screen, her arms are tied to the headboard with a belt, a glittery diamond choker around her neck. Black bars censor all the naughty parts, but the uncut video streams online somewhere.
“Rose,” Lo complains, pressing his hands to his ears.
I stand up and reach for her arm. “Rose.”
She recoils. “Don’t touch me.”
She scares me, more now, than she ever has before. It’s like she needs to explode, but she’s containing this raging fire inside her body.
The news channel blisters my ears. “Scott Van Wright has sold the sex tape to Hot Fire Productions for a multi-million-dollar deal. There’s been no comment yet from either Connor Cobalt or Rose Calloway, but it appears to be a legal transaction between all four parties.”
How can that be right?
“The summary of the film says the hour long session is rough and for mature audiences only.”
Rose increases the volume to the highest level. Why does she insist on listening to it like this?
“What the f**k are you doing?” Ryke asks, his hand rising to his ear.
“Maybe she’s like…having a mental break…” Daisy says.
Rose retreats to the kitchen, more on attack than anything. She disappears from view as she digs through a lower cabinet.
“Seriously though, Rose!” I yell. “Are you okay?”
She pops up with a bottle of whiskey. I forgot that Brett hid his booze with the dishwasher soaps. She spins her heels and collects a wine glass from another cupboard, pouring the whiskey to the brim.
It’s like watching a fissure run through a person made of stone.
I don’t like it.
“Rose, not to lecture you at this really sensitive time in your life,” Lo says, “but that’s not how you drink whiskey. And as an expert in liquor, it offends me.”
She glowers, one so fierce that my breath dies in my chest. “You’re not an expert in liquor. You’re an alcoholic.” She sets the whiskey bottle on the table and takes a giant swig from her wine glass.
She doesn’t even cringe.
“Which makes me an expert,” Loren argues. She waves him off like she’s shooing away an animal.
“What’s going on?” Connor’s voice emanates from the stairs. His gaze travels to the television, the source of the cacophony. No…
That’s why she turned the television up so loud? She decided to deafen everyone just to call him downstairs.
“Look honey,” Rose says. “We have a sex tape together.”
She’s lost it. Officially.
36
0 years : 10 months
June
LOREN HALE
Want to know the most deplorable, heartless thing in my head?
I am so f**king relieved that wasn’t Lily on the news. Extending empathy for my best friend, Connor, or for Lily’s sister—I can’t do it. Deep down, I just think: finally it’s not us, finally the world has shit on someone else.
It’s a thought that turns my blood cold, my forearms on my knees, sitting on the couch and waiting for the guilt to come crush me. I wish that I was like my brother. Ryke stares at Rose with so much concern that you’d think he was dating her.
“I’m on the phone with my attorneys and Cobalt’s,” Greg Calloway says through the cell’s speaker in Connor’s hand. “We’re looking through the contracts all of you signed. Until we can come to a clear picture of what’s going on, I need you to get my daughters out of that townhouse. No more cameras.”
Goodbye, Scott Van Wright. I thought Scott would go further and further until he reached an unbearable point with us, but leaking a sex tape with Connor and Rose—it never crossed my mind.
Connor has been unsurprisingly stoic during the whole ordeal. Sometimes I just want him to scream like the rest of us. Most of the time, I don’t want to see it. Because if someone like Connor ever breaks to that degree, then the whole world is headed for hell.
He places his hand on Rose’s shoulder, but she barely relaxes. “We’ll pack today and leave,” he tells Greg over the phone.
“Let me know when you make it safely back to Princeton. If there’s too much press around the house, you should all stay at our place in Villanova.”
My frown deepens, waiting for Greg to add, I need to have a serious talk with you, Connor. He just watched Connor screw his daughter on national television, albeit censored. And not only that—they’re into bondage and kinky shit that I’d think would have Greg tapping into his paternal side, ready for an hour-long conversation.
It never comes though.
“Do you know where Scott is?” Connor asks him.
My ribs burn when I inhale.
“No idea,” Greg says, “but Loren’s father is about to rip him a new ass**le.” Good. “To be honest, I’d love to see it happen.” He pauses. “Is Rose around?”