Kiss the Sky (49 page)

I
turn the volume higher, my finger stuck on the button as it blares.

“Rose,”
Loren complains, his hands on his ears.

“Rose.”
Lily stands and tries to touch my arm, but I jerk away again.

“Don’t
touch me.”
I need to see this.
No one
tells me to turn it down, probably afraid I will kill them for it. I feel
murderous. I feel like I could go kill a coalition of baby cheetahs and not bat
an eye.

The
news anchor’s voice escalates to an intolerable level. But I don’t lower the
television. Not yet. “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.”

My
mouth drops.
That fucking liar.
There
is
no way
in hell this is legal.

“The
summary of the film says the hour-long session is rough and for mature
audiences only.”
Clearly.

I
turn the volume to the highest level.

“What
the fuck are you doing?”
Ryke
asks, putting a hand to
his ear to block the noise. Lily is the only one standing up by my side. Her
face twists in pain, and I remember she’s been in this position. Sort of. She’s
never had her sex life distributed. No one has
seen
it online.

She
was just called a sex addict, and everyone took it as truth. Which it was. But
this is clear, physical proof that I’ve had sex. I’m no longer a virgin.

“Maybe
she’s like…having a mental break…” Daisy says.

I
spin on my heels, taking the remote hostage with me. I carry myself with some
morsel of dignity. In the kitchen, I rummage in a cupboard that squirmy Brett
loves to hide his booze under. Since we have a “no alcohol in sight” policy in
the townhouse, most everything is kept out of reach. I land on my knees and dig
around the dishwasher soaps for the bottle of Jack.

“Seriously
though, Rose!” Lily says loudly, trying to talk over the blaring TV. “Are you
okay?”

I
rise to my feet, snagging a wine glass from another cupboard before I return to
the living room. Everyone watches as I pour whiskey to the rim, practically
overflowing the glass.

“Rose,
not to lecture you at this really sensitive time in your life,” Loren says,
“but that’s not how you drink whiskey. And as an expert in liquor, it offends
me.”

I
give him a sharp glare. “You’re not an expert in liquor. You’re an alcoholic.”
I set the bottle of Jack on the coffee table and take a large swig. It burns
the back of my throat, but I hardly even cringe. The sting is numbed by my
anger.
 

“Which
makes me an expert,” Loren argues.

I
wave him off. My go-to move at this point.
Wave
it off
. If only I could magically wave away that sex tape.

I
take three more gulps from my wine glass. I am so pissed. My body
throttles
with rage. I am
shaking
I am so fucking livid. Yes, it’s
embarrassing that the world has seen my breasts and vagina, two parts of me
that I was unwilling to show Connor for an entire year.

Yes,
I’m slightly nervous the world will view me as a doormat now that they see me
gooey and submissive in bed.

No,
I will
not
cry.

I
won’t shed a tear for Scott Van Wright. He deserves only my nasty, vile words.
Not emotions that I reserve for people I love.

“What’s
going on?” Connor asks, his voice coming from the stairs.
Perfect.
He’s heard my call. The loud, obnoxious television.

And
his gaze traverses to the TV.

“Look
honey,” I say, “we have a sex tape together.”

Everyone
silences, probably wondering if the unflappable Connor Cobalt will suddenly
lose his shit. It takes him less than ten seconds to unglue his feet from the
floor—beating me by a whole minute. I expect him to take out his phone. To do
the responsible thing and start dialing attorneys and crisis management
centers.

Instead,
he stops right in front of me. His eyes swim in mine, as if searching for my
mental state.
I’m fucking fine
, I
want to scream back. But I choose to take another large swig of the biting
whiskey.

Raw
concern encases his features. I want to explain how angry and
not
sad I am, but the words don’t form.
And then he glances at my wine glass. He better not take this away from me like
I’m a child. If he pours my drink down the sink—

And
then he snatches the wine glass right out of my hand.

Before
I have time to complain, he puts the rim to his lips. And I go quiet, watching
him take a huge, brazen swig—washing away his own fury with the alcohol. I
smile. Because we cope in the same way. Not usually with drinking, but with
pulling our shoulders back and taking it like a fucking champ.
 

He
hands the wine glass back to me and says, “
Ce
n’est
pas la fin.”
This
isn’t the end.

I
nod in agreement. He steals the remote from me and softens everyone’s ears by
lowering the volume.

My
phone buzzes in my pocket. I don’t even check to see who it is. I just sit on
the armrest of the couch and watch the television.

“…
Princesses of Philly
has promoted Rose as
a virgin. Many people are speaking out about the validity of the show…”

 
Connor changes the channel to cable.

“…either
she lied or she lost her virginity during the time of the show. Go to our
website for a poll—” He flips to another station.

I
yell spitefully at the flat screen, “The world doesn’t have ANYTHING better to
do than talk about my virginity?!” I motion to the TV with my drink.

“Or
lack thereof,” Loren adds.

 
I ignore that comment and turn to Connor. “My
vagina has trumped national news.” I let out a manic laugh. “What do you think
our friends from Model UN would say about
that?
”

Connor’s
eyes rake me like he’s diagnosing my hysteria.

I
ignore
that
too.

After
a quick moment, he sidles behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. He
presses his lips to my shoulder. I lean back against his chest. It feels
familiar and warm, safe even, knowing that I have someone here—on my team.

Daisy
clicks away on her laptop. “It looks like most people are voting in favor of
you in polls. They say that you can’t be a liar or a hypocrite. Not when you’ve
stated in the show that you would—and I quote—‘jam my five-inch heel in the eye
or asshole of liars and cheaters.’”

That
was a little dramatic, even for me. But the interviews riled me to a new
degree, and I spouted every threat I could think of. Like roasting Scott’s
penis by flinging it at the sun. I would
love
to execute that one if humanly possible.

Tink
,
tink
,
tink
. Little bells clank together as Sadie
pads over to our group. She looks as feral as I feel. And a wicked, crazy
impulse drives through me. I disentangle from Connor’s safe embrace.

“Rose,”
Connor says, half with worry and half with warning.

I
don’t listen. Still holding my wine glass, I squat down in front of the tabby
cat. She’s a hostile bitch (like me). She has scratched my arms. Hissed at me.
And I swear she pissed on my Jimmy
Choos
, although I
can’t confirm that.

But
in this moment, I feel invincible from all offenses. The media. Scott. And this
fucking cat. I reach out to her.

“Don’t
do it!” Lily yells at me from beside the couch. “You’re going to lose an eye.”

Ignoring
my sister, I slip my palm underneath Sadie’s furry belly and pick her right up
with one hand, my other still clutching onto the stem of the wine glass. I
stand and stare straight into her eyes that almost match the color of mine. I
am channeling my hatred into one supreme death glare.

Sadie
moves and Lily lets out an audible gasp.

But
the cat doesn’t claw me. No.

She
licks
me. Her scratchy little tongue
brushes against my chin like a puppy and not a feline.

“What
the fuck?”
Ryke
says in shock.

I
hold her close to my body and she purrs against my chest. “We’re friends now,”
I state the obvious and take another sip from my wine glass.

“Or
she thinks you’ve grown balls,” Loren refutes.

“I’ve
always had them,” I say, offended. I turn to see Connor who stares with concern
and a little bit of fear. The bottom of my stomach drops in effect. He can see
right through the barriers I build to protect myself.

I’m okay
, I try to convey the words through my
eyes. But I’m not so sure I succeed.

Lily’s
phone rings loudly on her lap. “Shit, it’s Dad.” She looks between Connor and
me. “What do you want me to do?”

I
don’t say anything. I just kiss Sadie’s head as she continues to nuzzle into my
ribs. Her change of demeanor calms me and gives me a little more strength.

Connor
mutes the television and takes the phone from Lily, putting it on speaker.
“Greg, this is Connor.” His voice is relaxed, even if his tense posture and
hard eyes don’t agree.

“Good,
I’ve been trying to call you and Rose. I assume you’ve seen the news,” he says
quickly, his anger underneath his urgency. “I’m on the phone with my attorneys
and Cobalt’s. 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.”

Translation:
Princesses of Philly is cancelled.

Hooray.
I can hardly celebrate “
no more Scott
”
when the result came at the expense of my name and image. And then it hits me
like a freight train—Calloway Couture.
Everything
I’ve worked for can go to hell all over again. This sex tape could ruin my
fashion career.

And
I care.
A lot.

My
stomach roils like I need to puke. I think I may vomit. I hold my belly, and
Connor puts a firm hand on my shoulder, squeezing tightly to reassure me that
he’s here, that everything is going to work itself out.

I
try to believe it.

“We’ll
pack today and leave,” Connor says to my father.

“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.”

“Sure,”
Connor says. “Do you know where Scott is?”

“No
idea, but Loren’s father is about to rip him a new asshole. To be honest, I’d
love to see it happen.” My dad can be as soft as a flower petal whereas
Jonathan Hale is the thorn. “Is Rose around?”

“She’s
on speaker.”

“Rose,”
my father says, his voice turning gentle. “Honey, how many lawyers looked over
the contract before you signed it?”

Everyone
stares at me, waiting for the answer. I already sense their judgment. I stroke
Sadie who purrs again. She’s my only ally. “Just me,” I say.

“What…the
fuck?”
Ryke
says, his mouth falling.

Loren
groans, leaning back into the couch like a wave crashed into him. “Why did we
trust you?”

Connor
rubs his eyes and shakes his head.

Lily
looks petrified.

Daisy’s
face is frozen solid.

“I’ve
taken multiple law classes at
Princeton
,” I refute. “I understood
every line
of that contract.” I’ve
always shared Achilles’ fatal flaw. Hubris. Excessive pride. I couldn’t look
weak in front of Scott, so I decided to do everything myself. I needed no one’s
help.

And
if I misread any line in that contract, it’s going to cost me. And Connor.

My
dad lets out a disgruntled sound. “It’ll…be complicated from here on out, Rose.
I’ll talk to you when the lawyers have read through the contracts in detail.”

“Wait,”
I say. “How’s Mother handling this?”

“Terrific,
actually. She’s been slinging Scott’s name in the mud all around the house. She
said she’d call and apologize to you later today, Connor.” I can hear my father
smile by the end of that statement. Connor shares it. Her precious Scott showed
his true self today. I’m glad that my mother is back on my boyfriend’s
team.
 

“Stay
safe. All of you,” my father says.

With
this, he hangs up. No mention of the actual sex tape, no chiding. He only seemed
disappointed by my refusal to grab a lawyer.

Connor
gives me a reprimanding look as he hands the phone back to Lily. “I thought you
took my lawyer to the meeting, and I thought he read the contracts.”