Fearless Like Us

by Krista Ritchie

  She texts. “Done.” And then Sulli shoves her chips on number 9. “For Kits.”

  For Akara, I think, shoving mine onto red.

  Cigarette between my lips, I light the thing. Sulli watches me with worried green eyes.

  “It’s just one, mermaid,” I remind her.

  “Drinks?” A server leans in to ask.

  “I’ll take champagne,” Sulli says, and I try not to overthink my bad influence. She’s only having one drink. Like I’m only having one cigarette. She said she knows her limits, and I’m trusting that while I’m currently fingering my own vice.

  The server glances to me, and I shake my head. Muscles stiff, I take a deeper drag from the cigarette. Sulli steps in front of me, fitting against my body like a glove. I wrap an arm around her collarbones.

  “Red!” Sulli and I chant loudly. “Nine! Nine!”

  The entire crowd around us joins in. “RED! NINE! RED! NINE!”

  The ball stops.

  A sea of groans crash into the room. Black twenty-nine.

  “Fuuuuuck.” Sulli leans back into me even more, and like a fucking lightning strike from Zeus, my temple starts throbbing something awful. I wince. Suddenly, the flashing lights from the slots are neon daggers to my skull.

  Mother of Christ.

  I breathe through my nose. I’m on-duty. I’m on motherfuckin’ duty. I repeat the mantra to calm myself, to set my priorities straight. I can’t go down while I’m supposed to be upright.

  I can’t.

  I lick my dry lips. And a second dagger to my skull surges nausea. I snuff the cigarette on an ashtray.

  Sulli leans her head back to glance up at me. Seeing my fucked expression, she spins around completely. “Banks?”

  “Bathroom,” I tell her.

  I’m going to be sick.

  51

  SULLIVAN MEADOWS

  Knelt behind Banks in a bathroom stall, I rub his back up and down while he grips onto the toilet lid. Seeing my boyfriend fighting the urge to puke is tearing me apart inside. He didn’t eat spoiled shellfish or drink too much whiskey. He’s in so much fucking pain that he’s a second away from barfing.

  I want to rip that pain out of him. To jump inside his head and race against his migraine, until it’s defeated and he’s the sole fucking victor—but I can’t battle the thing in his head.

  Rubbing his shoulders, I lean closer. “I’m right here, Banks. I’m right here.” I kiss the back of his neck.

  I swear his mouth curves in those almost-smiles. He peeks over his shoulder, using a fuck ton of effort to rest his eyes against mine. He’s exerting way too much energy.

  I try to urge him back. “Don’t look at me.”

  “I like looking at you, mermaid.” He takes a measured breath. “You’re the most stunning sight a guy like me could ever see.” The way he’s staring at me, like he’s telling me goodbye, is killing every part of me.

  “Stop,” I force out, tears building. I wipe them fast. “Just hug the fucking toilet.”

  He curls his hair behind his left ear, then right. Not facing forward yet, he breathes, “You’re the love of my life, Sullivan, and wherever I’m going in this world or after, I’ll be waiting there for you—just don’t meet me too soon. You better become an old woman—”

  “Stop.” I try not to burst into tears. “I’m not letting you die. You’re not allowed to fucking die, so you reach into your brain and tell your migraine to fuck off.” I lift up higher on my knees and speak into his hair. “Fuck off, Migraine. We fucking hate you.” My tears drip into his hair.

  Banks holds my waist, and I feel a soft, low laugh tumble out of him. And then he lets go as he spins quickly back towards the toilet.

  And he pukes.

  I circle my palm along his deltoids, and with my other hand, I fumble in my macrame backpack for my phone. Temp bodyguards are posted outside the small bathroom. We’re in the VIP section of the casino, so less foot traffic, and I’m not worried about a pervert or heckler trying to mess with us in here.

  Even while enduring this migraine, Banks ensured the bathroom was secure. He shouldn’t have had to do that for me.

  He spits into the toilet.

  “Can I call Thatcher?” I ask before I dial the number. Even though I don’t have a great relationship with his twin brother right now, Thatcher should know what’s going on.

  Banks groans, “No.” He vomits again.

  Fucking God. I can’t just watch my boyfriend suffer in pain?! “I’m calling an ambulance.”

  “No.” That was a much harsher no. He spits again. “It’s passing…” He takes another deep breath. “I promise it’s passing, Sulli.”

  “Like you promised you’d go to the doctor? Like that kind of fucking promise?” I grip the phone tighter. I can’t lose Banks.

  “I’ll keep my word. I’ll go. Just give me a sec.” He hangs his head, battling the pounding in his temple probably. And then he flushes the toilet. Only when he shifts his body—sitting back against the basin—do I ease off on calling 9-1-1.

  Color has returned to his cheeks. I press my knees on either side of his legs, and I sink low over his lap while I scrounge in my backpack. I’m not the most prepared person in my family, but I always have a water bottle. And lately I’ve been carrying travel tissues.

  I rip open a pack of tissues and dab Banks’ lips.

  His eyes roam around my features, and before I can tilt my water bottle to his mouth, he takes the bottle from me.

  “Prideful,” I note.

  He almost smiles. “I’m not in a coma. I have hands that I like using.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, especially on this one girl with the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. I could almost drown in them.” He swigs water while I start to smile. And he adds, “It’s a good thing she’s an Olympic swimmer.”

  “Retired Olympic swimmer.”

  “Once an Olympian, always an Olympian.”

  “It used to feel like that.” I shrug tensely. “Now I just think…I miss it. I don’t want to miss it because even if I experience it again, what’s afterwards?”

  He swallows water. “Does it matter? Your life doesn’t need to be planned out.”

  “That’s the problem—without a direct path and fucking purpose beyond the Olympics and winning medals, people aren’t going to think I’m being responsible with my life. And then what?” I hear myself and I cringe.

  Responsible with my life.

  That’s not what I wanted to be. And who am I even trying to please anymore?

  “I think you know the answer,” Banks murmurs, reading my features well.

  I glance at the phone in my hand. “Should I call Akara?” He still hasn’t texted us after we gambled thousands of dollars into a gutter. I really had hope that he’d show up.

  Banks shakes his head stiffly. “He’s not coming to ‘Lantic Sidy. He made it abundantly clear he doesn’t want shit to do with us today.” He reaches out a hand. “Give me Mini-Akara.”

  I pass him the Akara popsicle stick.

  For a second, I think Banks is about to flush him down the toilet. My pulse shoots to my throat. “Banks—” I’m about to stop him.

  He jabs the popsicle stick in the role of toilet paper. “Now he’s with us.”

  I let out a breath and a softer smile. “You feel better?”

  Banks nods.

  Knock knock.

  Fuuuck, my heart is on a roller-fucking-coaster, riding up and down. The mole has still been active in January. Banks shoves a hand in his pocket and pulls out his cellphone.

  I lean forward and read upside-down.

  THE ROYAL LEAKS

  We reveal all the truths about the American Royals. These are verified and come directly from the source.

  ROYAL LEAK #1: Sullivan Meadows lost her virginity in a threesome.

  ROYAL LEAK #2: Farrow Hale hates his dad, Edward Keene.

  #TodaysLeaks #VCard #WhoEnteredFirst? #daddyissues

  I p
ale. “Fuck.”

  Banks has gone from looking sickly to looking ready to throw himself in a fucking cage match. “I swear to Christ you’re being targeted.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The leaks—you’ve been named more than anyone else. Why is that?” He fumes, then shuts his eyes in slight pain.

  “Alright, okay—fuck the mole. We hate them…just stay calm. Is there a trigger or something that brings on the migraines? Is it the light?”

  He shakes his head a few times. “I don’t know…I’ll be fine. It’s passing.”

  “Please let me take you to the fucking hospital after this.”

  “I’ll call a doctor and make an appointment before we leave the bathroom.”

  After I agree to that, Banks rereads the leaks. “Looks like my dad issues aren’t the only ones being put on blast.”

  Sucks for Farrow, for fucking sure. Or maybe he won’t care. He’s the most unbothered human being I’ve ever met.

  I’m not as ripped apart at the virginity leak as I thought I’d be. Either because the world already speculates the status of my V-card and this’ll just be more of the same…or because I like that they subtly mentioned both guys were there.

  I frown more. “Hey, we haven’t talked about the virginity thing in forever, Banks. Like from before we even realized our penthouse was bugged. We’ve been so careful not to say anything about that night out loud.”

  “They’re definitely hoarding information.” He nods. “Which means it doesn’t even matter if you leave the penthouse. They still have dirt on all of you.”

  Yeah.

  We figured that.

  “You think the mole dropped this leak in response to our Instagram post today? Maybe it’s their way of trying to tell the world the triad still exists.”

  Banks lifts his shoulders. “That’s a good possibility. I don’t know if this’ll confuse the public or not.”

  As I kneel here, I realize a big part of me is hoping they believe in the three of us. Even if that means meeting more paparazzi, even if the cameras never fucking back off. It’s easy to feel that strength when I’m alone with Banks in a secure bathroom. Put me in the same hysteria on New Year’s Eve…and I don’t know…I don’t know…

  My phone vibrates, and my lungs expand. Akara must finally be calling, maybe to see how I’m doing after the leak. Quickly, I check Caller ID and my hopes burst like a popped balloon.

  Banks swigs more water, shutting one eye. “Who is it?” He’s breathing through his nose. He’s in pain still.

  “Luna.” Before I answer her, I tell him, “I’m not leaving you. I’m never leaving you, and wherever you’re going in this world or after, I’ll find you.”

  His love for me cascades through his eyes and breathes life into my body. He touches two fingers to his lips and presses them to my cheek. “Because I’ve been upchucking—or else Lord knows I’d kiss you on the mouth right now.”

  I almost laugh, but I fucking hurry before my phone rings out. “Luna?”

  “Sulli?” She sounds dejected. “You have a minute?”

  My eyes grow to the size of Everest. “Yeah, what’s up?”

  “Is Banks with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  She’s quiet for a second. “Can you put it on speaker?”

  My lips part, not expecting her to want Banks to be a part of the conversation. I press the button. What’s going on? “You’re on speaker, Luna. Banks is here.”

  Banks forces both eyes open, curiosity pinging as he glances at the phone. “Luna?”

  “Hi. Howdy,” she says a shortened, sadder version of her usual upbeat greeting. “Have you all talked to Donnelly recently?”

  “No…?” I pry my gaze off the phone. “Banks, have you?”

  He hangs his head, thinking. “I haven’t talked to him much off comms since…” He winces. “Since the break-up.”

  Makes sense, I guess. Banks has mostly stayed in the penthouse and only gone back to his apartment to grab his things.

  I ask Luna, “Is something going on with Donnelly?”

  “Sulli, can we talk in private for a sec?”

  Shit.

  “Uh, yeah.” I’m not leaving Banks. I’m not being a bad friend to Luna. I just take the phone off speaker while Banks tries his best not to listen. And I press the phone to my ear. “What’s up?”

  “I asked Donnelly if he wanted to go to Wawa with me, and he kinda blew me off.”

  He blew her off? That fucking dick. I try to drop my voice to a whisper. “What’d he say?”

  “It was over text. He left me on read, and then today, he messaged: Sorry. Couldn’t go.” She pauses. “It was kinda the first time I asked him anywhere outside of tattooing me. I just thought we were friends…”

  “I’m sorry, Luna,” I whisper. “That was an asshole move.”

  Banks makes a weird face at me, and I realize he’s been able to hear everything Luna is saying. He’s mouthing something to me.

  I lower the phone and cup my hand over the speaker. “What?”

  “He must’ve thought she was askin’ him out on a date,” Banks whispers.

  “To Wawa?” Now I make a face.

  Banks nods, pretty assured.

  I put the phone back to my ear. “Luna, you think Donnelly thought you were asking him out like…on a date?”

  “I wouldn’t do that to him—my dad would kill him if we ever got together. That’s not…” She intakes a sharp breath. “Rats. Maybe he did think it was a date…I gotta go fix this. Thanks, Sulli.”

  “I didn’t do much.”

  “You did a lot, a lot.” After a see ya later, we hang up.

  I immediately ask Banks, “How’d you know Donnelly thought it was a date?”

  “’Cause I’ve heard him talk about taking girls to Wawa being his ideal date, and if he said no to Luna, then he probably doesn’t want to be with her.”

  I recoil. “He doesn’t want to be with her?” My voice is a little hostile. They hooked up, alright. I kind of just want to smush them together like marshmallow and graham cracker.

  Banks stares through me. “You do know something about the two of them, don’t you?”

  I bite my bottom lip to keep from spilling the fucking beans.

  “Did they fuck?”

  I make a you-smell-that-fart? face, more at myself.

  Banks laughs a little. “Alright, maybe it’s better if I know nothing.”

  “Yep.”

  He nods to himself. “Head in sand.”

  “You feel any bet—” I’m cut off by another ringing.

  Fuck.

  I answer the next call on speaker. “Beckett?”

  “Sulli,” he says. “Are you sitting down?”

  Still on the public bathroom floor, I’m knelt on either side of Banks, and my ass has dropped to his lap. “Sort of.”

  Beckett would be drowning himself in hand sanitizer if he switched places with me and my boyfriend.

  “My dad just called me. Apparently, the SEC are investigating our families.”

  My face falls. “For what?”

  “They think we might be behind the leaks in order to manipulate the stock market. It’s bad, Sulli.”

  I stare in a daze at my phone. Un-fucking-believable. Why would we be tanking Fizzle’s stocks and Hale Co. and Cobalt Inc.? What good does that do us?

  Banks shakes his head at me like he can’t believe it either.

  “I have to go,” Beckett says in a rush. “I just wanted to let you know in case you hadn’t heard yet.”

  “Thanks, Beckett.”

  We hang up.

  Silence stretches between me and Banks, a single thought in the air.

  “You first,” I tell him.

  He takes a breath. “Akara didn’t call us.”

  My chest hurts. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  Akara would definitely have known about the SEC investigating our families before even Beckett. I’m sure Uncle Connor speed
-dialed Akara right after he learned the news. We’re not even on Akara’s need-to-know list anymore. He’s just wiped us out like our triad never even existed in the first place.

  Some of the public think it was all a lie.

  Maybe Akara’s starting to believe it too.

  52

  BANKS MORETTI

  Cold feet. I felt that towards my dad. Now I’m feeling that feeling again. I’m usually not the one running away, but I’m dreading tomorrow. I shouldn’t be wishing for a natural disaster to yank me away from a doctor’s visit. But that’s where I’m at.

  Hoping for a fuckin’ tornado.

  Hurricane.

  Maybe a little tsunami.

  While Sulli is showering, I go into the living room and find Farrow lounging on the rug with an apple in hand. He watches Baby Ripley, who waddles into an uneasy stance and giggles before walking like a torpedo.

  Farrow is quick on his feet and snatches up his son, stopping him from colliding into the corner of the coffee table. “Where are you headed so fast, little man?”

  Ripley giggles as Farrow swings him in a circle.

  “You trying to run after wolf scout?”

  He kicks his legs out and giggles more.

  “He makes me laugh too, but we’re not going to tell him that, are we? No, we are not…” He trails off, seeing me come further into the room and lingering.

  Farrow gently places Baby Ripley on the rug beside a few of his toys. Ripley plops down and grabs an interactive, educational book. He had his first birthday a few days ago. Only recently has he started walking and racing through the penthouse like an obstacle course.

  I even helped baby-proof the penthouse better with Sulli and her roommates.

  Babies are fucking cute.

  I’m still hoping my brother has one. Or three or four.

  Thinking about him reminds me of my family. My mom is over-the-moon elated that my relationship with Sulli is now confirmed to the public. Seeing as how she thought I’d never really settle down. Can’t really celebrate with her when it feels like we’re two-thirds of a whole and still missing a piece.