Thrive (Addicted, #4)(110)
“No,” I
say quickly. “We were just talking about…breast implants.” Ohmygod. I clear my throat. “Mine are kinda small…” I actually don’t have a problem with my boobs, but it was the first thing that jumped from my lips.
Rose
stares at me like I just purchased my one-way ticket on the crazy train. “And I’ve been telling Lily that her boobs are fine how they are.”
Maya doesn’t
look fazed by the conversation. “As long as you’re happy with yourself, it doesn’t really matter how you look, right?” She starts the coffee pot and it gurgles in response.
“True,” I
say with a nod. “I think I’m going to stick with these.”
“Okay.”
Rose grabs her purse off the counter and starts towards the door. “I need to get to Calloway Couture to prep for opening. Come along, Lily. You can study in my break room.”
“I have a
break room,” I motion to the backdoor.
“Yes, but
my couches are better.” Her eyes turn fierce. Okay. Jeez.
“See ya!”
Maya calls out as we leave through the front door. The wind hits me and I release a large breath. Close call.
“At least
we’ll know how trustworthy she is,” Rose says as we walk across the street. The people standing in line at Superheroes & Scones whip out their smart phones to snap pictures of us. I’m a little surprised no cameramen pop up out of the thin air.
“Why is
that?” I ask. Rose unlocks her store door and I shut it behind me.
“Because
if tomorrow’s headline reads Lily Calloway is getting a boob job then you can fire her.” She pauses in thought. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Plant a lie for your staff and see if they feed it to the press. Weed out the betrayers.” She grins like she found her new tactic for her own store.
My phone
buzzes before I can compliment her evil strategy.
Miss you. – Lo I take a
deep breath and try not to count the days until I see him again.
{ 53 }
2 years : 01 month
September
LOREN HALE
Loren, where did your father touch you? I can still the feel the heat of the flashes as we walked down the Paris city street, the paparazzi bombarding us, a whole ocean away from where we live. Walking. Just walking. Became a nightmare.
Why hasn’t your brother made a statement to the press? Does Ryke know the truth, Loren?
I sit on a barstool in a pub, gripping a glass with dark carbonated liquid. I try to focus on the Rugby World Cup playing on every television screen, but I can’t distance myself from all the questions today. No matter how hard I try.
Connor says something to me, a plate of fries between us, but I lose track of his words.
“Whatever,” I mutter, my voice biting and cold. I sip my drink, the bitter taste of liquor sliding down. Beginning to numb my head. But not fast enough.
Connor has to know I ordered a Fizz and whiskey when he went outside to call Rose. He’s not an idiot, and while his demeanor never changed, he stepped out again. I’m guessing to call my brother.
Lo, what about Lily?!
I grit my teeth. My eyes sear like someone rubbed salt in them. I glare at the rows and rows of bottles behind the bartender. I don’t want to think about this.
Did your father ever touch, Lily?
I chug the rest of my drink. I flag down the bartender and then point to my glass. She nods, understanding. Has your girlfriend been molested?
Where did your father touch her?
Stop.
Thinking.
Today.
It was the first day that I’ve ever heard Lily’s name thrown around with this mess. I just want everyone to see the truth. To realize how much damage they’re doing to my family by speculating. Instead, every lie keeps growing into a bigger one. I don’t see how it’ll ever end.
Connor looks between me and the television, eating a fry.
“Did you hear,” I finally say, “that Sara Hale is going to be interviewed on television?” Some sort of tell-all special. “She’s going to bury my dad.” And I’ll be dragged down with him.
The bartender slides the newly-filled glass towards me. She avoids eye contact, fear in her brows. She’s afraid of me. I must wear the worst fucking glare—like I’m sitting here hoping that the world burns with me in it.
I partly do. And then I take another sip, a buzz barely even present.
“Sara has nothing to gain from that,” Connor says easily, as if the matter is settled.
“Not everyone is like you,” I retort spitefully, clutching the cold glass. “Everything Ryke’s mom has ever done is because she hates Jonathan.”
“I never said that she wouldn’t lie on camera. I just meant that it’ll solve nothing for her if she does. So revel in that fact. I am.”
“You go ahead and revel in that, Connor.” An acidic taste sears my throat. “You’ll be the only one.”
“I’m used to being the only person who thinks intelligently. I honestly can’t expect everyone to reach my level.”
His arrogance doesn’t fuel me like I thought it would. Maybe because he takes my insults and just creates more of his own. It makes being an asshole easier. “Cheers,” I say raising my drink and taking a long gulp.