Becca Ritchie - Kiss the Sky

Scott gathers himself quickly and swings back.

Connor dodges the attack and then kicks Scott, hard, in the penis. Scott groans in horrific pain. Fuck yes! I am cheering on the inside. There are cannons shooting out confetti in my brain. Halle-fucking-luiah.

“That’s from Rose.”

Scott is in a crouched position on the ground, his eyes watering. He grimaces and slowly stands, clutching onto the wall for support.

Connor doesn’t back away, not even a little scared of being hit back.

Scott chokes on a cough, looking like he doesn’t want even the slightest chance of that happening again. “…I’d love to see your face when you realize what you’ve signed.”

“You’re seeing it now,” Connor tells him calmly, not giving Scott anymore satisfaction. I love him for that. “I’m positive you have full rights to anything we ever film, which gave you permission to sell the sex tape to a porn site without our signed consent. I don’t have the contract in front of me, but I’m sure there’s something misleading about the part where you weren’t allowed to film us in the bedrooms.”

“I read that line correctly. I know it,” I say. There was a stipulation about the bedrooms…wasn’t there?

Scott hunches a little, still recovering from the blow to the balls. “It said that we couldn’t air anything from the bedrooms on television. We never did. The contract said nothing about filming. And any of the footage from the bedrooms and the bathroom can be used for movies and web content. Just not network TV.”

OhmyGod. I blew Connor in the bathroom.

Scott laughs devilishly as he watches my face fill in horror. He has…so much footage of us. I recollect every time we had sex. He has it all. Hours of us, fucking.

Lily and Loren…

Scott must read my stricken gaze that travels to my little sister. “Lily was almost always in her room,” Scott says, “we weren’t able to install any cameras to catch anything.” Right. They had to reinstall cameras because I made Connor and Loren sweep the bathroom and the bedrooms when we first moved in.

I glance at Ryke.

“I didn’t fuck in the house,” he says.

I turn to Daisy. Her face pales.

Connor eases her worries. “It’s illegal to film minors in pornographic situations.” He glares at Scott.

We’ve caught him.

He’s going to jail.

“We didn’t,” Scott says. “All that footage was destroyed.”

Fuck you! I unleash Sadie, about to ram my heel up Scott’s ass. But Ryke stands behind me and holds me back, two hands on my shoulders. It takes me a moment to realize that Connor is staring at Ryke, giving him a command through his eyes to restrain me.

“You’re disgusting!” I shout at Scott with an extra high-pitch scream.

Scott stays calm. I am the only one freaking out. How is that possible? He dropped a grenade on my life. I want everyone to be as fucking pissed as me.

But I realize that when I’m angry, there’s almost no room for anyone else to be the same. I am a hurricane. A typhoon, and I will destroy everyone in my wake.

Yes, dramatic.

But that’s just how I fucking feel.

Get out of my way. Or I’ll drown you.

“The text message from Julian?” Connor asks Scott.

“Planted. Brett took Julian’s phone in the middle of the night and texted it to Ryke.” That pudgy asshole. I knew he wasn’t on our side.

“Lily and Lo in the bathroom with the slurping audio?”

“Edited. We did it in advance and uploaded it on the camera for you to find.” That motherfucker...

“The alcohol in Lo’s closet?”

“Planted. Savannah and Ben put it there when Lily was taking a nap. They were supposed to install a camera too, but they ran out of time.”

…Savannah and Ben. I hate them all. Where’s the loyalty?

Ryke takes his hands off me and starts to near Scott.

Loren doesn’t do a thing. He’s just whispering in Lily’s ear and she nods back.

“You’re going to fucking hell for this!” Ryke says with darkness swirling in his brown eyes.

Connor shoves him back the moment he’s close. And then Connor turns to Scott. “I’m going to let Ryke go if you don’t get out of this house. And his fists are going to hurt a hell of a lot more than mine. So take what’s on your back and leave.”

Scott straightens up, not exactly exiting with his dignity. But he has millions of dollars in his pockets from multiple sex tapes. He can sell them for much more than the first one.

He’s set for life.

He won.

We lost. How did we lose?

Oh yes, hubris.

I am a Greek tragedy. Or a Shakespearian comedy—it’s going to end with a wedding after all.

When the door closes behind him, the room blankets in tension, only disrupted by Sadie’s collar that jingles as she rubs her body against Connor’s calves.

“So…” Loren looks from Connor to me and back. “…is there going to be a boxed set of you two for sale?”

“Most likely,” Connor says. And every dime will go to Scott and the porn site. Fuck my life.

He comes to my side and kisses my temple. There’s nothing we can do. We just have to deal. With Connor here, I think I can.

I clap my hands together to alleviate the leftover strain in the room. “Everyone, go pack. We’re leaving, you heard Dad.”

I picture my gated house with the black shutters, large kitchen, and most importantly—private bathrooms. Dear God, I’m already salivating over a nice hot shower alone with no threat of cameras.

I glance at Connor, who collects my hair off my neck. Maybe he can join me too.

Daisy shifts on her feet. “I guess I’m going back to Mom’s.”

My stomach falls again. She’s seventeen. There’s nothing I can do about that, as much as I want to. And then my eyes drift to Ryke, the other one who will be left in Philly. It’s weird. We’ve been together in the same house for so long that breaking our routine feels odd. Like a puzzle piece out of place.

We’ve become something of a family.

A dysfunctional, fucked up family. It’s hard to let that go.

But things are changing again. The reality show helped Calloway Couture, and in one moment, this sex tape could topple all I’ve sacrificed.

I’ll have to confront the public at some point, and it’ll have to be more than just waving a glass of whiskey at the television.

I could be hated and condemned like my sister.

I hear the criticism already. And I don’t wilt by it. I’m just angry.

So bring it on, motherfuckers. Try to hurt me. Because I won’t let you.

You’ve won the right to see my body, but you’re not taking my pride.

It’s too excessive to destroy anyway.

The townhouse is empty except for my heavy cedar table in the living room. I set my small duffel bag on the kitchen counter as Connor descends the stairs.

“All the rooms are checked,” he tells me. “Nothing’s left behind.”

“Except my dignity.”

His eyes deepen in concern, the same look he’s given me the entire time we’ve been packing. I’ve shut down any conversation revolving around Scott and the sex tape. But now I’m no longer fueled by my liquid courage, and I’ve had two hours to shake off the shock and process what’s happened.

“I’m sorry,” I immediately say. He comes over and touches my cheek. But I take a step back, and his hand falls.

“Rose—”

“Just let me get this out.” I take a deep breath. “It’s my fault that we have a sex tape…soon to be sex tapes.” I grimace, but I don’t back down from his gaze. I don’t cower. “It was my fault. Mine. And I’m so, so sorry. Your penis is now all over the internet, and that’s on me.”

He smiles at the last line. I narrow my eyes as he nears me again and cups my cheeks. “Rose, you don’t have to apologize to me,” he says sincerely. “It was a mistake.”

I cringe again.

“I know,” he says. “You and me, we don’t have many of those.” Connor combs my hair away from my eyes. “But they happen.”

I exhale and nod. I’ve been holding so much in—looking more like a wooden board, like someone shoved a broom up my ass, on red alert, waiting for the next attack. I’m trying to let this go, but it’s a little difficult. My naked body is all over the internet, and my world has changed in one millisecond and moment of time.

What’s done cannot be undone.

“Can I try something?” he asks me.

I frown deeply, not understanding. Not until he clasps my wrist and pulls me into his arms. And then he places his large hand on the back of my head, guiding me to his chest so that my forehead nestles safely in the crook of his shoulder.

Darkness is here.

The kind I don’t like to meet.

Emotions so cavernous stir within me, and a powerful surge bubbles them to the surface, a force I can’t stop. The layers I wear to muffle the pain start to peel off quickly. The tears come first. Silent. And then the sobbing. Louder. The type that shakes my whole body. I have fucked up so badly, and it’s not just me that’s paying the price. I hate that I dragged someone else down from my mistake.

Connor may lose his job over this. Cobalt Inc. may not take kindly that their future CEO is a porn star. The loss of Calloway Couture will hurt me, but knowing that I ruined someone else’s dream—that’s unforgivable.

I can’t stop crying. I hate tears. I hate what they mean, but in the confines of Connor’s body it feels safe to show this part of myself.

He holds me tighter, and I clutch onto the fabric of his shirt.

“Let it out,” Connor coos as he strokes the back of my head.

My privacy has been stripped, and I’ll never get it back. I feel so incredibly violated, but Connor has somehow muted this pain that tries to pummel me. The way he holds me, with reassurance, with commitment and confidence, makes me believe that I can overcome anything. I think all my life he’s helped me find power inside of myself so that I may barrel forward and never look back.

I don’t know how long he holds me while I cry, but when I feel drained, when the tears have ended and I master the strength to lock away the guilt, I withdraw from his warm chest.

Connor rubs the wet streaks from my face.

“Can you fix my mascara?” I ask in a whisper.

“Look up,” he tells me. I stare at the ceiling while his thumb removes the black smudges I’ve caused. When he finishes, he places his hands on both of my cheeks again. “Rose,” he breathes. “I’d rather you cry in my arms for ten minutes than pace manically for two hours. I’m always here when you need me.”

“Literally a shoulder to cry on,” I say with a small smile.

“Literally, yes.” He shares it.

He kisses my lips chastely before he says, “We’re going to get through this. There’s no challenge we can’t defeat together.”

He’s right. My chest lifts with a newfound strength, just in time for the front door to swing open. We both look over, Loren and Ryke walking in.

“So the movers just left,” Loren tells us. “They said that they couldn’t fit your cedar table in the truck, so we have to carry it to your Escalade.” They stop by my coffee table like they’re going to lift it, but then they just wait there for a second, staring knowingly at me. This is a level of weird that I’m not used to.

They’ve seen me have sex.

They’ve most likely seen me naked or partially naked.

I have no idea if they watched the unedited tape on accident, on purpose, or not at all, but the option is there. Instead of being plagued by embarrassment, which threatens to creep up, I set my hands on my hips and say, “What are you waiting for? Take the table to the car.” I almost snap my fingers at them. But I withhold that impulse.

Loren cocks his head, and his mouth curves in a wicked grin. “So you like to be tied up?”

My nose flares. Embarrassment sufficiently gone. Anger intact. I am about to lunge (with poise and class) and swing my purse at him, but Connor wraps his arms around my waist.

“What?” Lo says mockingly. “I’m just stating the truth.”

Ryke gives his brother a look. “Stop making her ashamed.”

Lo touches his chest innocently. “I just find it funny that a girl who invents new ways to mutilate dicks every single day likes to be fucked hard by one.”