“No,” Lo says, “she needs to fucking hear this.” He points accusingly at me. “What the hell kind of guy stays with a girl for that amount of time without anything in return? If he’s doesn’t love you, then he’s just waiting to fuck you.”
He pokes at the most vulnerable part of my relationship with Rose. “She doesn’t need your protection,” I say to Lo, trying to keep my voice even-tempered, but Rose wavers uneasily in my arms. “She knows who I am.”
“So you’re okay with that then?” Lo asks her. “He’s going to fuck you, and then he’s going to be out of here. Does that make you feel good, Rose? You’ve waited twenty-three goddamn years to lose it, and you’re going to give it to a guy who can’t even fucking admit that he loves you.”
“I’m not going to admit something that I don’t feel,” I tell him. He opens his mouth, but I cut him off, “Would you like me to sit you down and fill your head with numbers and facts and relativities? You can’t stomach what I have to say because you won’t understand it, and I know that hurts you. But there’s nothing I can do to change the way things are. I am a product of a mother as brick-walled as me, and trust me when I say that you won’t ever see more than I give you. In order to be my friend, that has to be enough, Lo.”
He lets this sink in and then he says, “And what about you, Rose, is that enough for you?”
Lily reaches out and touches her hand.
Rose nods stiffly, and she holds Lily’s hand tighter. “I’m going to go to the bathroom. You guys can meet us at the car.” Lily supports her sister with an arm around her waist as they head through the dispersing crowds.
I watch her, making sure she safely leaves, and then I glance back at Lo. The look he gives me—it asphyxiates me for more than a few seconds.
He stares at me like he yanked off my superhero cape and grounded me to the mortal world.
“I just want you to know,” Lo says, “that I lost some respect for you tonight. And you’re not going to get it back so fucking easily.”
Ryke says nothing. He just wears a haunted, dark expression.
“Sure,” I say. “I understand.”
Lo rubs his lips; his jaw clenches, and he nods to Ryke. They head out to the car without me.
I stay still and try to gather my feelings that tangle in a muted mass.
What kind of person needs a therapist to tell them how they feel?
Am I not as smart as I believe or am I just human?
CHAPTER 19
ROSE CALLOWAY
I can’t come. I’m so, so, so sorry! Just make sure no lilies, okay? And remember that I like your taste better than mom’s. THANK YOU! – Lily
I receive the text as soon as I arrive at the florist to pick out arrangements for the wedding.
Four months and two days – Mom
It’s like the countdown to the Apocalypse.
I text my sister back, telling her it’s fine. At least she didn’t make up a stupid excuse this time. Her “stomachaches” for the past month have been more about her fear to come face to face with our judgmental mother.
Lily went from being ignored by our mom to being told to close her legs. To wear a lighter pink lip gloss (on the rare day she does wear makeup). To comb her hair so it doesn’t look tangled in a post-sex haze.
She ridicules. And we both know it’s not out of love, but her obligation to protect the reputation of the family.
I look around the flower shop quickly. Brett follows me today with his steadicam, nimbly keeping out of customers’ way as he films me. I arrived twenty minutes early so I could pick out what I liked and so my mother would have a harder time bulldozing my opinion.
First, I choose pink and cream roses for the centerpieces. I wait impatiently while the florist demonstrates an arrangement. She has tinsel sticking out from flowers. “Simpler,” I urge. “Just the flowers. We’ll put them in one long row down the table. No separate vases, so it will look like one extended centerpiece.” I look around and spot the table of white roses. “These for the bouquet. And we can wrap the stems in pearls.” I’m not sure if Lily will approve, but at this point it’s clear she doesn’t care.
The only request for the past two months has been no lilies. Otherwise, I’m walking around blind.
While I wait for my mother, I click onto Twitter and type in #PoPhilly. A list of tweets pops up.
@RaderBull595: The Calloway girls are hot, but that tall one is such a bitch. I’d bang Lils though.
@TVDFan70008: Have you seen the way Lo looks at Lily? swoon
@thefieryheart: Brb building a shrine for Ryke and Daisy!
@RealityXbites4: I loooove this show!! #TeamScott
@SlightlySpoiled: Can’t wait for Rose to dump Connor. Fry his dick! #please
Lovely.
The reviews for the show have been much better than any of us could ever expect. Even though we’re labeled “foul mouthed, rich, and conceited” most of the articles congratulate us for being real. For not trying to put on fake faces in front of the cameras. Daisy burps, Lily says sexual comments on accident, and I threaten to castrate men. Some people like us for our flaws. Others still see us as caricatures. But I try not to let those comments bother me.
You can’t please everyone.
@Fashion4Goddesses: Just received my Calloway Couture dress! Gorgeous!
My heart swells at that tweet. Soon after the first episode aired, my sales skyrocketed. And they have continued to grow exponentially with each new episode. Fizzle has even seen a spike in its stock. Hopefully the success will last.
The bells on the door clink together, and I quickly pocket my phone in my purse. My mother struts through like she suddenly bought the entire store. Her nose upturns at a vase of half-wilted daisies.
“You’re early,” I tell her. Ten minutes to be exact.
“So are you,” she replies. “Where’s your sister?”
“She’s not coming.” I don’t use the stomachache excuse since I’ve overdone it already. Instead I try the truth. “She doesn’t like how you talk to her.”
“Lily has a voice of her own,” my mother snaps. “If she doesn’t like how I speak then she should tell me herself.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t tell her that she’s not the easiest woman to talk to, and it takes practice and skill—that even I come away feeling more neurotic and unspun.
“I already picked out the flowers,” I tell her.
She doesn’t seem surprised. “Then we have to choose between mine and yours because I already called in arrangements this morning.” Of course. She walks haughtily to a cabinet where white and orange lilies are gathered together with teal ribbon.
“She specifically said no lilies,” I say angrily. “I’ve already told you this ten million times.” Not only that but orange and teal. Really? Maybe for Daisy but Lily is more…subdued.