Addicted After All

by Krista Ritchie

  Sam stops fighting with the box and looks up at Ryke. “You’re masculine, athletic and you never quit, which is what we’re branding. If you don’t want to help, all you have to do is say so. Don’t waste my time.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Daisy chimes in. “Not for me.”

  Sam catches sight of Daisy, and his eyes grow big at her hair. “That’s a…new color.”

  “Neon I’m-Going-to-Blind-You Yellow,” Lo adds. “What’s terrifying is that some girl is probably going to copy her.”

  I don’t elbow Lo again. Daisy is solely concentrated on Ryke, and I can read his expression pretty well. He wants to smooth things out with our parents, and she can’t stop him from doing it. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a Swiss army knife. Then he bends down and cuts open the box for Sam.

  I near with Lo, too curious to stand back, and Ryke grabs one of the slim plastic bottles, translucent blue liquid inside. I understand the moment I read the silver label: Ziff. And below that is the flavor: Blue Squall.

  It’s a sports drink, the kind that can rival PepsiCo’s Gatorade and Coca-Cola’s Powerade. It’s the one arena Fizzle has failed at multiple times, and I suppose he’s hoping they can launch a new string of sports drinks with Ryke as the face.

  “Ziff?” Ryke says with furrowed brows.

  “It’s Fizz backwards, with two f’s.”

  “I got that,” Ryke says and then uncaps the bottle. I’m guessing it’s blueberry flavored, more of a midnight color. We all watch Ryke put the bottle to his lips and take a swig. He instantly puts his bicep to his mouth, his face contorting in disgust.

  Oh no.

  Lo lets out a laugh. “Swallow it,” he says in jest, reaching into the box to grab a bottle for himself. I blush at those words.

  Connor even collects a bottle. “It must be bad if Ryke can’t keep it down.”

  “I’ve tried it. It’s decent,” Sam says.

  Ryke finally swallows the liquid and takes a breath like he was drowning. “What the fuck is this shit?” He stares at the label and starts reading the ingredients. “It tastes like deer bile and piss.”

  Connor arches a brow. “He’s tasted piss before.”

  “And deer bile,” Lo chimes in with a grimace.

  “Fucking A, you two try it.”

  I’m glad I haven’t been included in this. I’m not going near anything that tastes like pee. No thank you.

  Daisy rocks on her heels. “I’ll try it.” Of course my gutsy sister would. Ryke passes her his bottle, and she sips Ziff about the same time that Lo and Connor drink theirs.

  Daisy spits it out almost instantly and rubs her tongue with her fingers. “Ugh, that’s bad.”

  Connor and Lo are able to keep their drinks down, but I can tell Lo needs a chaser, his forehead wrinkling in distress. I’m about to retrieve him a water, but Rose stands up and nods to me like she’ll do it. She’s already eyeing the bit of Blue Squall on the rug that Daisy spewed.

  “Sorry, Rose,” Daisy calls after her. “I can clean it…”

  “It’s fine,” Rose says, already disappearing in the kitchen.

  “I thought you said she swallows,” Lo tells his brother. Oh my God. This time, I punch him in the chest, away from his ribs. He looks remorseful and more unsettled, probably because he realizes it was about Daisy.

  Ryke runs a hand through his hair and glances hesitantly at Daisy, who has wide, large eyes. This is a clear indication that they discuss sex, and us, when we’re not with them. This means I no longer should feel guilty when me and my sisters do it too. I nod at this resolution.

  Sam mumbles, “I’m going to pretend I never heard any of that.” He rises to his feet and nods to Connor. “It’s not that bad.”

  “Ziff,” Connor recites, “it’s not that bad. Drink it.” I crinkle my nose. Yeah, that’s not going to sell anything.

  Sam sighs in frustration and crosses his arms. “My hands are tied here. Even if it doesn’t taste that great to you, it has ranked well among our other flavors on board. Greg wants to launch with Blue Squall soon.”

  We’re all quiet for a moment. And then Lo says, “You remember Mountain Berry Fizz?” He just brought up an apocalyptic moment in Fizzle’s history. I remember MBF very, very well.

  “Don’t,” Sam says, raising his palm at Lo to shut it down.

  “What’s Mountain Berry Fizz?” Ryke asks.

  I add, “The worst Fizzle flavor to ever be created. The aftertaste was like window-cleaner.”

  “Or bleach,” Lo says.

  I nod quickly. “You couldn’t predict the awfulness after the sip settled in.” I realize I’m hugging onto Lo when Sam’s eyes flit all around me in a judgy or curious way, but I don’t care much. “It was pulled off the market after three months.”

  Light bulb moment for Ryke. “Which is why I’ve never heard of it.” He stares at the bottle of Ziff. “How the fuck am I supposed to be the face of a product that I can’t even drink?”

  Sam checks his phone and then says, “You’re going to have to drink it at the unveiling, without cringing. We’ve set up an event, open to the public, where you’ll drink Ziff and then climb.”

  Ryke spreads his arms out. “Why the fuck are you just now telling me this?”

  “Greg thought you’d agree to the terms, no matter what. If you want to earn his respect, you just need to suck it up and do it.”

  Ryke says, “I have to drink water before I climb. About a fucking liter.”

  “We’ll talk about the event later,” Sam shrugs it off and points to the box. “I’m leaving this with you so you can get used to the drink. I’ll let you all get back to…” His eyes ping to the baby dolls in our hands. “…whatever you were doing.”

  No one even bothers telling him it’s CPR training. And as he departs, I whisper to Lo, “Does it really taste like deer bile?” That seems more abnormal and off-putting than bleach.

  “No,” Lo whispers back. “It’s more like an iron, metal flavor. It’s not refreshing.”

  My mouth falls a little. I picture blood, which tastes a bit like metal. This is a power drink for vampires. Mountain Berry Fizz 2.0 all over again. My heart goes out to Ryke. It feels like he’s being setup to fail.

  This is the hardest part about having friends, watching another life unfold in a messier way than it should. And not being able to help. I have no magic spells or tools to fix this. No one ever says, let awkward Lily Calloway come to the rescue!

  I come, a lot. But it’s never satisfied anyone but me.

  And maybe Lo.

  If my superpower is sex, then…I’ve abused it. I suppose I might’ve been a quiet, lurky villain this whole time.

  “Lil?” Lo breathes, his lips brushing my ear. Everyone has gone back to their dolls. “What’s wrong?”

  “Is my superpower sex?” I ask him.

  His face sharpens. “No.”

  “Are you sure?” My eyes burn, emotions stirring.

  He hugs me to his chest. My belly bump hits him first, making it harder to be so close. After a long moment, he whispers, “Sex is your kryptonite.”

  Oh. “It makes me weak,” I realize.

  “And it makes you human, Lil.” He kisses my cheek and then the outside of my lips and then…my body pulls towards him as his tongue slides against mine. I ache to be even closer, but I chant over and over this has to be enough.

  It is.

  I won’t let my weakness get the better of me. Or play with my mind. It’s a daily battle that I’m beating today.

  { 29 }

  LOREN HALE

  Current standings: Ryke Meadows (cursed out three men last meeting) needs to act more professional in a work setting. 6 out of 14 love you. Congratulations, son. – Dad

  I read the group text with everyone else while Connor’s limo sits in gridlocked traffic. We’re all riding to New York for a Cobalt Diamonds dinner party

  “Was that sarcasm?” Lily whispers to me, pointing to the part about
Ryke.

  “Most definitely.” The next text suddenly comes in. He’s splitting them into four messages, I realize.

  Lily Calloway (only spoke to two women last meeting and hid by a plant) needs to be more personable. Too shy. 7 out of 14 love you. Sorry, Lily. – Dad

  I want to sigh in relief, but anxiety knots my stomach. I have no clue how I’ve come across to the board. We’ve each had three encounters with all fourteen of them so far, and I can’t tell who’s making progress.

  All I know is that Lily is due in a little over a month. Saddling this shit on top of a baby—it’s starting to wear on me. And I’m paranoid that everyone is waiting for me to slipup and drink, watching me constantly. A nervous heat gathers on my neck, and I rub the back of it.

  Maybe it’s my own conscience that plagues me the most.

  “Can someone please send me these texts?” Rose says with less fire in her voice. It’s the first thing I’ve heard her say the entire limo ride. She’s been glaring out the window, probably cursing every automobile for causing us to be late.

  “I can,” Daisy says, tapping her screen. I hear Rose’s phone chime and so does Connor’s, who sits next to her.

  “Hey, look I’m beating Ryke,” Lily says with a small smile.

  “By one fucking person. Don’t get so excited.” He grabs a water bottle out of the ice bucket and then passes it to Daisy.

  My leg jostles while I wait for the next text to come in. I watch Lil tug at her plain purple dress; the fabric doesn’t suction to her stomach like Rose’s black one, but she’s still uncomfortable from carrying more weight.

  I pull her closer to my side, letting her lean against me, and she kicks off her heels and curls up on the stretched leather seat.

  All of our phones ping at the same time.

  Loren Hale (appeared interested in Hale Co. proceedings but looked exceptionally surly when asked about rehab) needs to work on communication. 10 out of 14 love you. Well done, son. – Dad

  “That wasn’t sarcastic,” Lily says softly, worry flickering in her eyes.

  It’s good though. I can almost breathe again. “It’s what I want, Lil.” Maybe my voice sounds unsure because she pouts in this adorable way, her bottom lip pushed out a little further.

  And then her breath shallows.

  Christ. I must be eyeing her mouth too much. She squirms, readjusting and I touch her arm, her skin hot with arousal. She’ll be fine. Her crazy sex drive isn’t as high as it was in the second trimester, but she’s still a sex addict.

  “So much for working together,” Ryke says under his breath next to me. But if the girls aren’t chosen, the outcome is what I wanted. Only one of us could win this position, in the end. Working together just meant they’d lose out.

  “It’s how it should be,” I remind all of them.

  Ryke shakes his head repeatedly. “You can’t…” he trails off and his jaw hardens.

  Irritation festers in my core, and I grit my teeth. “I can’t handle it?”

  He stays quiet, basically admitting that’s what he was going to say.

  “Yeah? Maybe I can’t, Ryke.” My leg bounces more. “But maybe I can. I should at least be given the chance to try.” I want to be better. God, more than anything. I want to be like him.

  “It hasn’t even been a whole year since your last relapse,” Ryke tells me in a controlled voice, trying not to curse me out. “I’m just concerned, as your sober coach but mostly as your fucking brother.”

  Lily hooks her arm around my waist, my muscles tensing like crazy. “Whatever…” I drop it there, especially as our phones ping again.

  I check the text.

  Daisy Calloway (sociable and well-spoken, very engaging) needs to stop fidgeting during group conversations. 12 out of 14 love you. Great work, Daisy. – Dad

  My stomach falls, and the small fight I had with Ryke now seems insignificant.

  Ryke drops his phone in his lap and runs his hands over his face. “Fucking fuck…” He mumbles out more curses, and I notice that Daisy isn’t even paying attention to the texts.

  “Are you okay, Rose?” she asks her sister.

  Rose is pinching the bridge of her nose like she’s in pain, and Connor is rubbing her shoulders and whispering in her ear. Neither of them say a word.

  I tell Daisy, “She’s probably about to cry because she knows your life is about to end.” It’s dramatic, especially for me, but maybe it’ll knock some sense into this girl.

  “You all have things you love to do,” Daisy says. She braids her hair that’s now platinum-blonde, which pretty much resembles an alien to me. “I’m not giving up anything like you are.”

  “That’s bullshit,” I say. “I’m not giving up a goddamn thing by being the CEO of Hale Co. I’ll still own Halway Comics.” I’ll just have twice the responsibility.

  She’s nineteen, started modeling at fourteen. This girl has worked more in her lifetime than I fucking have—that’s the truth here.

  Ryke adds, “You are giving something up, sweetheart. You’re sacrificing the thing you could’ve loved. One day you’re going to find it. Hale Co. isn’t your burden, and I’m going to be fucking sick if you take it.”

  Daisy sips her water, mulling this over. We’re older than her. And I think she’s feeling it in this moment. She slouches, her green eyes flickering between us and then she lands on Ryke. “Who would you rather see be the CEO, me or Lo?”

  “Neither,” he says immediately.

  “That’s not a choice.”

  He does look sick now. Like he’s going to puke or something. And I watch his face twist in pain as he contemplates each scenario. I pull at the collar of my white button-down, the suit jacket warm on top.

  “Daisy, if it’s between you and me, he wants me to take it,” I interject. He needs to back me up, to have faith in me and to give Daisy a bigger reason to step away.

  “I didn’t fucking say that,” he retorts.

  Goddammit, Ryke. I grind my teeth, my hand shaking, and he catches the irrepressible jitter. I’m not going to drink. The words scratch my throat, itching to come out like I could scream every syllable. But it just stays an urge, a thought, and I wear the sentence on my face instead.

  “Rose?” Lily says, worry spiking her voice. My head whips towards Rose, who has her eyes closed, color lost in her cheeks.

  “I’m fine,” she says in a stilted voice. But she’s almost hunched over, and Connor’s hand tightens on her shoulder. “They’re false contractions.”

  Jesus Christ. “You’re having contractions right now?” This entire time?

  “They’re false,” she emphasizes, growling out the word, and her eyes snap open, just to shoot me the evilest glare. She blows out a long breath. “I have three more weeks until my due date. It’s too soon.”

  Now I notice how Connor’s examining her movements, his gaze traveling across her body.

  “Motherfuck…” She grips the edge of the leather seat and glances at the window. “We should be there by now.”

  “You’re in pain and you’re still worried about being late to a dinner party?” I ask like she’s insane. She is. One-hundred percent insanity. I’m watching it.

  “We’re still stuck in traffic,” Lily says to Rose, passing over my comment to keep her sister calm. “Do you need some water?”

  Rose shakes her head a couple times. I really can’t tell if this is false labor or not. None of us have any prior experience as second-time fathers or mothers.

  I watch Connor shrug off his suit jacket, maybe from the June heat. I lean over and try to speak through the limo privacy-screen at the driver. “Gilligan, can you turn the air conditioning down?” I ask. “It’s boiling back here.” Almost instantly, a gust of cool air blows out of the vents.

  “Rose,” Connor says, impassive like usual, “put your legs on the seat for me.”

  She’s pretty much doubled over now, clutching her knees that have broken apart. Shit. “It’s too early…” Her voice bre
aks in pain.

  Connor doesn’t wait for Rose to comply. He seizes her legs and spins her so she’s lying along the stretched limo seat, adjacent to where we sit. My pulse races. This is not happening.

  “Her water didn’t break,” I point out. This is not happening right now.

  Daisy scoots behind Rose, propping her head in her lap, and she rubs Rose’s sweaty hair off her forehead. “It’s probably false labor,” Daisy says.

  Lily is wide-eyed and slack-jawed, unmoving from her spot beside me. It’s more nerve-wracking when Connor says nothing, when he hides his emotions, leaving us to guess.

  He rests one of Rose’s feet on his thigh, so she has room to open her legs. And then he covers her waist and lower half with his suit jacket, maybe so he can remove her underwear.

  Ryke and I inspect the traffic out the window at the same time. The accident up ahead must not be cleared yet because we’re still barely inching forward.

  “Connor,” Rose cries in pain—her face full of it. I’ve never seen her like this.

  The floodgate to Connor’s emotions finally cracks, and I catch a glimpse of concern in his blue eyes. He reaches out, holds her hand tightly in his, and then glances between her legs. He keeps one palm on her bent knee. “I need someone to call 911,” he says to us.

  Rose doesn’t even complain or put up a fight about it, which means she’s hurting badly right now.

  “I got it,” Ryke declares, dialing the number in his cell. While he starts speaking to the operator, I talk to Connor.

  “Her water didn’t break,” I mention again. “That has to mean this is—”

  Rose screams, like a horrific, blood-curdling scream. Connor’s grip tightens on her, as though he’s holding her life in his hands. The terrifying thought: he just might be.

  Lily is shaking, and I hug her closer to my chest, wrapping my arms around her body, and placing my hands flat on her belly.

  “I want…an epidural,” Rose demands, hot tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Connor rubs her knee and squeezes her hand. “We both know it’s too late for that. You probably broke your water in the shower this morning…” He checks his watch. “Around six, and you didn’t realize it.”