“It’s nothing,” she says quickly. “Come on, I need you out front.”
We all turn on Daisy who has taken a seat on the floor, texting in solitude. She’s ignoring us on purpose. And I wonder…
When I gave Daisy pepper spray, it seemed like she was keeping a secret with Ryke. I completely forgot about that, and so I never badgered them for the information. I think I’m finally going to get some answers, and they’re just going to be handed to me. No work involved. Look, the show has another perk. Who would have thought?
“Hey.” Lo nudges Daisy’s back with his foot. “What the fuck is going on?”
“It’s taken care of,” she says noncommittally, fixed to her phone.
Lo glances at Ryke. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“Just fucking watch,” Ryke says. “It doesn’t matter now. They’re airing it.”
Connor sips his wine. “Clearly you hoped they wouldn’t.”
“A part of me did, actually. But I was protecting that one…” He leans behind his brother and points to Lily who has her head on Lo’s shoulder. “So give me a fucking break.”
“What? Me?” Lily points to her chest sheepishly. “I’m okay.” But her voice is small. She’s had to see herself make out with Lo, and all of us had a three-minute heated debate whether this was considered soft-core porn—which she’s not allowed to watch.
Then Daisy off-handedly admitted to being a porn-watcher—more to keep Lily from shrinking into herself in shame. And Lo made a face like someone stabbed ice picks in his ears.
I’m immediately brought back into the show after hearing one particular line from my sister:
“He threw something at me.”
Ryke breathes heavily. “It looks like he f**king grabbed you.”
She pauses. “Can you please come outside and I’ll explain.”
With locked shoulders, Ryke follows Daisy downstairs, into the living room, and out the front door. When they reach the street, she leads him to her parked Ducati on the curb. The taillights and headlights are busted. And the handlebars are bent out of shape.
“What the f**k? Mother ****ing, piece of sh*t *** ** ****** kidding me.” He glares. “Who f**king did this?”
“Some douchebag downtown. I came out of Lucky’s, and he was smashing my bike with his boot. He told me, and I quote, ‘Get out of here, you spoiled c*nt of Philly.’”
Ryke cringes at the one swear word I’ve never heard him use. “It wasn’t your boyfriend?”
“No,” she says. “He wouldn’t hurt me. I just…I was trying to get my bike back, and we had a bit of a confrontation, hence the bruise. It’s nothing really. I was just glad the paparazzi didn’t show up.”
Lily gapes. “They’re that angry at us for filming?” The fear blinks in her eyes. If Philly locals did this to Daisy—then what the hell are they going to do to my little sister whose sex addiction has been plastered on national news?
The heckling—it’s not something I really thought about before.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Daisy tells both of us.
But Ryke’s hardened jaw says differently. On screen and off.
Ryke inspects the damage on her bike, shaking his head more and more. “We need to press charges.”
“I didn’t get his name.”
“But you can describe him to the police.”
She stays quiet.
“He f**king assaulted you, Daisy. He’s not getting away with this sh*t.”
“I don’t want to cause more trouble, really. Let’s just forget about it.”
“You want me to f**king forget about it?” His eyes fall to her waist where he saw the bruise. And then he stands and tries to pull her shirt up.
Connor chokes on his wine. I rub his back with a mechanical hand. I really want to smack Ryke’s head, but I’m restraining myself—something Ryke clearly cannot do.
“I gave you way too much credit,” Connor tells him. “I thought you were smart enough not to do that on camera.”
“On camera?” Lo interjects. “How about not at all.”
Daisy waves her hand from the ground, still texting. “Right here, guys.”
Ryke extends his arms. “What do you want from me? She just told me she got mauled by some fucking angry idiot on the street, and she wouldn’t tell me how bad it was.”
“For the record, it wasn’t that bad.”
“It was fucking bad.” Ryke glares at her. “Your whole side was fucked up.”
“What is fucked up?” I say in worry. “Do you need to go to the doctor, Daisy?”
“I already went,” she says. “I’m fine. No internal bleeding—”
“I’m going to strangle you,” I tell Ryke. I step towards him, and Connor clutches my arm, pulling me back to his chest. My sister was that hurt and no one thought to inform me?!
“Why are you fucking yelling at me?” Ryke shouts. “I’m not the one who tossed her to the ground.”
“You should have told me!”
“Daisy didn’t want you to know,” Ryke retorts. “Is it that hard of a concept? You freak the fuck out, Rose. You’re about to hyperventilate right now.”
I’m not.
And then I realize that my chest rises and falls in a strange, uneven rhythm. Okay, maybe I’m not all there. But I hate that Daisy was hurt and I was purposefully left out of the secret. I should have remembered they were keeping something from me. I should have been by her side while she was at the doctor’s. This is my fault. If we didn’t have the reality show, she wouldn’t have met such a hostile pedestrian without a bodyguard.
“Were you alone at the doctor’s?” I ask Daisy.
“Ryke went with me.”
At least she wasn’t alone. But Lo glares at him, hardly thinking he’s a good replacement. He’s better than no one.
I glance back at the big screen. Ryke and Daisy stop fighting each other. He holds her arms while she stares up into his brown eyes.
“I’m fine,” she says.
“The more you keep saying that, Calloway, the less I believe you. What’d he do, body slam a hundred-twenty-pound girl on the f**king ground?”
“No, we wrestled. In the mud. There were cheerleaders in attendance too.”
“Shut the f**k up.”
She grins. “It’s funny.”
“You being hurt is the least funny thing in the entire f**king world.”
“And that’s the biggest exaggeration I’ve heard all day.”
They just stare at each other for three long seconds. Ryke tries to cut the tension by looking away first. He says, “I’ll take your bike to the shop. You can ride mine if you need to go to a modeling gig.”
People mutter again, and my mother’s bony collar juts out as she inhales, her frame too skinny. With the scandal, she’s eaten less and less. And it’s not long before her hateful gaze finds her target, landing on Ryke. Direct hit.
“Momma Calloway is going to ream your ass,” Lo tells him. He slaps his back and squeezes his shoulder hard. “Good luck, bro.” He smiles.
“You’re enjoying my distress way too fucking much.”