“You don’t have a shower?” I say, trying to find the answer here.
“Um, maybe you both should come check out the bathrooms,” Daisy says, having to step over a box and squeeze past Brett to reach the door.
We follow her.
“Is the shower gross?” I wonder.
Lo clutches my hand as we walk. “Maybe they found mold or something.”
Good theory. “Maybe a turtle had babies in the bathtub.”
Lo considers this and then says, “And the shower is definitely full of snakes.”
“Monkeys,” I add. “There’s a monkey nest in the cabinet.” I picture Jumanji, a full out zoo inside the bathroom with ivy and deadly plants. Killer bees come next.
“Monkeys don’t have nests,” Lo says. Where do monkeys live then?
“You two are fucking weird,” Ryke says. Our imaginations are vast. It doesn’t help that we love comic books more than reality.
Ryke and Daisy abruptly stop in the middle of the long narrow hallway. I almost bump into Ryke’s chest, and when I take a step back, I knock into Brett’s camera.
“Sorry,” I mutter. I clearly don’t do well in confined spaces.
Voices from the main level below trickle up the staircase.
“Traveling somewhere, Scott?” Rose snaps. “Hopefully to California where you’re actually needed.” Rose sounds more ticked off than usual.
“Who’s Scott?” Daisy asks in a whisper.
I think she’s the only one without this info. Someone should have told her sooner.
“The producer,” Ryke says, “for the show.”
I consider edging closer to the staircase to see if I can catch a glimpse of him. Rose has spent plenty of nights complaining about the misogynistic producer. She has to deal with him though, for the sake of the reality show.
My feet stay glued to the floorboards, too anxious about the bathrooms to move just yet.
“I’m needed here,” Scott says. “It just takes people time to realize what’s good for them.”
Ryke crosses his arms over his chest, listening intently with Daisy and Lo. They’re all eavesdropping while I internally freak about the bathrooms.
I don’t actually think monkeys are in our cabinets.
I don’t discount the turtles though.
Lo whispers, “I already hate this guy.”
“Same,” Ryke says. “If he fucks with one of the girls—”
“It’s not going to happen,” Lo cuts him off. “Connor already ran a background check on him.”
“I don’t have as much faith in Connor as you do,” Ryke whispers.
Lo actually pats his brother’s back and says, “Then have faith in me.” He’s known Daisy, Rose, and me almost all his life. Lo wouldn’t let Scott harass us without a major fight.
Ryke lets out a tense breath and just nods.
I count five doors along this hallway. Daisy has her hand on a brass knob to one of them. Is that the hall bathroom then?
I catch the tail end of Scott’s comment. “…showing your tits would increase the ratings.”
My jaw unhinges. What?!
“So would shoving my foot up your ass,” Rose refutes.
Lo clenches his teeth.
“I’m going down there,” Ryke whispers.
“No,” Daisy says, grabbing Ryke by the forearm. She stops him before he heads down the hallway. “We need to show Lo and Lily the bathrooms. And Rose won’t appreciate you coming to her defense.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Rose can handle anything.”
Ryke reluctantly redirects his course of action, and he rests his hand on the small of Daisy’s back, silently telling her to open the bathroom door.
This is it.
The old wood creaks as she opens it wide. We all slowly walk in, and my mouth just drops further. No turtles or monkeys or even mold.
The two showers are huge. Too large, in fact. As if they’re made for communal purposes. Oh my God. What if they’re made specifically for orgies? What if production believes that I’ll hook up with multiple people in them?
“What is this?” Lo asks with a deep glare.
“We’re all sharing one bathroom,” Ryke announces, leaning against one of the four sinks.
“Rose would have said something…” I trail off.
Daisy says, “I don’t think Rose knew before today.”
“Lily…” Lo places a hand on my shoulder, concern cloaking his gorgeous face. I must look petrified. At least, that’s exactly how I feel.
My privacy has been slowly stripped for months, and now it’s almost all disappeared.
“I don’t like this,” I mutter under my breath.
My immediate thought isn’t damn, we can’t fuck in the shower. It’s my third or fourth thought, which (I think) is progress. My first thought is how embarrassing it’ll be if Ryke or Connor walks in on me showering. Oh no…what if a cameraman sees me naked? What if he catches it on film?
“They can’t film in the bathrooms. It’s in the contract,” Lo reminds me.
“Are you sure you can’t read my mind?” I whisper, the humor lost in my voice.
He hugs me close. There is nowhere safer than in Loren Hale’s arms.
“Do you jack off in the shower?” Daisy asks casually to Ryke, a smile to her voice. It instantly causes Lo to tense. She’s become almost too open around his brother.
Ryke doesn’t miss a beat. “I don’t have to jack off, sweetheart.”
“Wow, the pent up frustration must hurt then,” she says with sarcasm. “No wonder you’re so moody.”
“Fucking hilarious.” And then he undoes her bun, sliding her hairband on his wrist and messing her long locks with a rough hand. Her blonde strands stick out wildly. When he finishes touching her, a small smile peeks on the corner of her lips.
“Out of curiosity,” she says, not fixing her unkempt hair, “where do you pick up girls?”
Ryke glances at his brother, just recognizing that we’re in the room with him. I know what it feels like to be so magnetized by someone that you forget about your surroundings.
My lips part at a sudden realization.
Ryke may be actually falling for my sister.
A girl who turns seventeen next month.
It’s a feeling, but one I sense deep in my bones like I did Connor and Rose.
I can’t tell Lo about my suspicions. Nothing good will come of that.
“You’re always curious,” Ryke answers vaguely. Still, he has trouble censoring himself. “I meet people at the gym or really anywhere I fucking go out.”
“Have you dated a fan?” she asks.
Lo interjects, “Yeah he has. Twice so far. And they were his age.”
Ryke stares at the ground, not saying a word. I can’t read his dark expression either.
“Cool,” Daisy says, nodding a couple times. “I bet they were sweet. I’ve considered dating a fan, but most of mine are too old.”
“Like twenty-three?” Lo wonders, his voice biting. I wince. That’s Ryke’s age.
“No, more like thirty-five.”
I’m pretty sure Daisy is picking up all the hints. She’s just dismissing them with ease.
I hold onto Lo’s arm. He’s at such a good place with Ryke. I don’t want that to change because of my little sister. Maybe, one day, it’ll have to, but not now.
“You should consider dating someone around your age, Dais,” Ryke says pointblank.
“I have,” she says, heading towards the door. “It hasn’t been anything special.” With this, she leaves. My eyes meet the camera lens that remains pointed at me. Jeez.
“She likes you way too much,” Lo says.
“Look, I’m trying to shut her down without hurting her fucking feelings,” Ryke retorts. “But she’s my friend. I’m not going to push her away completely.”
“Here’s a tip: maybe you shouldn’t talk about jacking off in front of her.” Lo crosses his arms. “Is it that fucking hard?”
“For me, it is.”
Lo stares at him for a long minute. I anticipate something really nasty. He says, “I bet your teachers hated you in high school.” That wasn’t so bad.
Ryke lets out a laugh. “I got detention almost every day for saying fuck. So yeah, they weren’t too fond of me.”
I peek past Lo’s shoulder to scrutinize the showers again. “They’re huge.”
“It’ll be okay,” Lo reassures me, his hands lowering to my hips.
I hope so, but everything the production company has setup feels like drama bait.
We’re bound to feed into it.
{ 14 }
0 years : 05 months
January
LOREN HALE
“This is ridiculous.” I flip through a five page script in disbelief. As soon as we arrived at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, Scott handed me what I thought was a museum pamphlet. Turns out production wants Lily to talk and act a certain way. Most of which is crude.
Lily leans over my arm and gasps as she reads a line. “I can’t say that.”
I skim the paper and see where she’s concerned.
Lily stares into Loren’s eyes with longing and carnal desire.
Lily: I remember how you tasted last night. I can’t wait to taste you again.
“Jesus Christ,” I curse. “This is like a bad porno.” I scan the small crowd, hoping it won’t grow into a larger one later today. Quickly, I find Scott speaking in hushed tones to Brett, who has a camera attached to his chest.
I take Lily’s hand and lead her over to the twenty-eight-year-old dipshit. As soon as we approach, he turns and I chuck his five-page script at his body. It hits his chest with barely a sound and then flops to the floor. “We’re not reading off a script,” I snap.
Scott Van Wright has found every way to grate on me in the shortest amount of time. First off—he lives with us. No one fucking invited him to permanently crash upstairs. Secondly, I can’t stand to look at his dirty blond hair, his smug face, and those douchebag tailored pants. He’s like the anti-Connor. An arrogant prick who one-ups you and screams about it at the top of his lungs.
Thirdly (and most importantly) he antagonizes my girlfriend.
Yesterday he tried to corner Lily to ask her questions about her old hookups. We’re not even a month in with the cameras. That’s not fucking okay. I’m trying to stay positive, but shit like this is why I opt for a quiet bar and a bottle of Macallan.
“Then tell your girlfriend to speak up,” Scott replies smoothly, not even breaking a sweat. “She’s so quiet that she literally disappears in the background. We’re making a show around a sex addict, not a wallflower.”
“I’m standing right here,” Lily says before I can chew him out. “You can talk to me.”
His eyes never waver from mine. I could seriously deck him in the face, but I rarely fight with my fists.
“While the cameras are rolling, you both need to stop acting like I’m the producer of the show,” he says, completely ignoring the issue.
“Right,” I say. “You’re Rose’s ex-boyfriend.” It’s nothing but a lie. Just scripted drama. Scott’s creating a fake love triangle between himself, Connor and Rose. His motives are all over the place.
“Exactly,” he says, unbuttoning one button on his white shirt. So what—viewers can see his muscles? This guy—
“Do you think Rose and Connor will make it today?” Scott smiles, like we’re friends. Lily instinctively checks the camera. The red light is on.
Scott already knows the answer to his question. GBA, the network airing Princesses of Philly, wanted more scenes with Lily and me, alone, so they planned a trip to the museum with just us. And apparently Scott. I have a strong suspicion he’s just tagging along to piss us off.
My eyes narrow in contempt, and Lily squeezes my hand to help calm me.
Scott grins wider. “How’s sobriety, Loren? Are you doing okay?”
My blood boils, my glare intensifying. “No, I’m not doing great. I just feel sorry for you, man. For six months, you’re going to watch us drive our expensive cars, attend our exclusive parties, and fly our private jets. And when it’s all over, you’ll go home to your one-bedroom apartment in LA and realize that you’ll never have our lifestyle. You’ll never amount to anything other than a second-rate producer of a garbage reality show.” I touch my chest. “That just makes me feel so fucking sad for you.”
Scott’s smile and pretenses vanish in an instant. “You’re a dick.”
“You’re a slimy prick,” I refute. “Don’t ever ask me about my sobriety again.”
Lily follows me as I storm off towards one of the exhibits in the back, as far away from Scott as I can get.
“He’s trying to provoke us,” she reminds me.
A pressure weighs on my chest. My left hand shakes. “Well it’s working,” I say under my breath. This rabid hate simmers underneath my skin. I just want a sip of alcohol. Anything. God, drinking is so much better than dealing with this bullshit.
“I love you,” she says, her eyes tracing my features quickly.
I take a deep breath. I love you too. The words stick to my throat. Instead of speaking, I rest an arm along her back and hug her to my side.
She brings her hand up to her mouth, about to bite her fingernails. But she drops it before she gets that far.
“I can’t stand here, Lil, and not fight back. He’s making you nervous and he’s pissing me off. I can’t take that crap, not from anybody.”
A sliver of silence stretches where my lie resides. I take shit from my dad all the time, but Lily chooses not to announce this fact. Thankfully.
“I just don’t want you to come off as a villain when the show starts airing in February,” she explains, “because you’re not.”
I’ve tried so hard not to be that guy—the one that terrorizes other people. The one that no one else but Lily can possibly understand. It’s hard to walk away from this instinct. It’s self-preservation. If I don’t attack first, I’m going to be slaughtered by gut-wrenching pain.
I’m saving myself.
“Lo?” Lily says, her voice pitching in worry.
I turn to Lily and hold her delicate face between my hands. I notice Brett filming us from a distance. “We’re going to be ourselves for this show,” I say. “Fuck anyone who doesn’t like us. It doesn’t matter.”
She nods confidently and gives me an encouraging smile. I drop my hands. Her eyes flit around the museum. “Out of all the places production could pick, they chose something more up Rose’s alley.”
“Yeah, I know.” Paintings and sculptures sit against white walls. People wander around with headsets on, quiet like we’re in a library. “How boring is this going to be?”
“Maybe we can just go around and try to guess the names of the paintings. Ohhh.” She points to a portrait of a woman in an oversized Renaissance gown holding a cat. “Here’s one. I think it’s called Lady with a Cat.”
My lips rise. “Very creative.”
“It’s my best guess.”
I approach the painting nearest us and read the small plaque underneath the frame. Jesus. “You were close. Lady in the Blue Dress.”
“Really?” She beams.
I’m about to reply when I spot Scott Van Wright sauntering towards us. Why can’t he just stay the fuck away?
“I have to call my brother,” I tell her in a low voice. The moment I say it, the moment I know it’s the best plan I’ve had all day. That weight on my chest starts to lessen.
She whispers, “Are you okay?”
I don’t want her to worry about my addiction. “We need someone to distract Scott from us.” Or else I’m going to do something I regret.
Lily’s face contorts in a multitude of emotions. She knows I’m not doing well, and I’d rather have him here. But she hates perpetuating tabloid rumors about three-ways and cheating.
“What about Rose or Daisy?” she asks.
“Rose is working in New York
, and Daisy is at school right now.” I omit Poppy since she wanted nothing to do with the reality show. “I’d call them before Ryke if I could.” I add that, just for her. If I’m being honest, I’d prefer my brother over her sisters.
Lily opens her mouth to reply, but Scott steps closer. In hearing distance. He acts like he’s appraising the Lady in the Blue Dress. “I’m thoroughly surprised you two haven’t jumped on each other yet,” he says, his gaze pinned to the painting. “It might be a new record.”
“You don’t know us,” Lily combats.
“You’re a sex addict,” he says. “You want the short definition?” He licks his lips. “You like to ride dick.”
I fume, my teeth aching from gritting them. Lily rests a hand on my chest. Her face is flushed, red patches dotting her neck and cheeks. I hate that he embarrassed her. I hate that he’s shaming her. More importantly, I hate that nothing I say does any fucking damage to him.
This is the point where I’d walk away and start fucking with his life.
I’d ruin him from the inside out.
His career. His money. I’d utilize the tools my father gave me to destroy a man. But I can’t.
I can’t do that this time.
We’re barely into the reality show. What’s the alternative though? Stand here and eat shit?
I can’t.
My muscles burn. Each inhale is like trying to breathe through black smoke.
“Look at me,” I sneer, so aggravated that Scott won’t tear his eyes off the painting. He’s pathetic.
Finally he turns his head, but I can see it’s becoming harder for him to keep up his self-satisfied smile when he’s facing me.
“Stay out of my goddamn face.” These are my only words before I drag Lily to another side of the museum where antique furniture and silver flatware are on display. Scott stays behind for now.
I unpocket my phone and start texting Ryke.
Stop climbing fake rocks and come meet us at the museum.
“If he’s this mean to us,” Lily mutters, “I wonder what he’s like to Rose and Connor.” Her eyebrows knot together in confusion. “Do you think he says dirty things about her?” Concern plagues her face. I’m not used to Lily being protective of Rose.
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