“What are Victoria’s plans now?”
“She checked Amber into a place to help her heal. It will take a few months at least. Our mother isn’t much help. So, Victoria will probably stay with Sailor in San Francisco and try to find another job. She’ll survive, just like she always does. I’ll fly there any chance I can get and send any extra money I make to help out, but it’s never really much help.”
“What about her stuff? What about her job?”
“I’ll ship
her stuff. And job? I thought she said she quit.”
“She told me to tell Lily that she quit. I didn’t tell her though. I just said she was sick and needed to go home. I told Lily I had some other work things I needed to address and then got out of there as soon as I could to wait for Victoria.”
“You need to tell Lily that Victoria quit. She won’t come back. She won’t pull Sailor out of school or take her away from Amber. She will stay in San Francisco even if she can’t find another PR job. She will do everything that she can to fix our family’s problems.”
I think for a minute, hating that I have to be so far away from Victoria. I don’t know when I will be able to see her again. And I know one thing; I can’t live without her. I love her. I think I’ve always been in love with her. I just thought I couldn’t love her. That she was all wrong for me.
My mind flashes back to my favorite memory of her. We must have been twelve, maybe thirteen.
“Logan,” I hiss, poking him in the ribs.
His hand swats me. “Go away. I’m sleeping.”
I sigh. It’s not even ten o’clock on a Saturday. There is no way he is sleeping. And I can’t fall asleep.
I get up from the couch in the basement and head upstairs. Maybe his mom made some food. I walk into the kitchen and open the fridge, but there is no food.
I sigh. So much for that plan.
Music? My ears perk up at the sound of music coming from upstairs.
I creep up the stairs as I listen to the music getting louder along with Tori’s voice. I haven’t ever heard her sing before, and maybe she will offer me some level of entertainment.
I walk to her door and listen as she belts out Spice Girls. She’s horrible, but I don’t care. It’s amusing actually, how she can sing so confidently. I guess it’s because she doesn’t think anyone is here.
I throw the door open, planning on embarrassing her. But she doesn’t get embarrassed. Her cheeks don’t flush, and she doesn’t scream in fear.
Instead, she just rolls her eyes at me and keeps on singing into her hairbrush.
I frown. So much for entertainment.
“Sing with me,” she says, tossing me a hairbrush.
“No. It’s stupid, and you’re horrible.”
“So? It’s fun.”
She keeps singing and dancing around the room like a crazy person while I stand, frozen in my spot, with wide eyes.
“You’re crazy.”
“You’re boring.”
She walks over to me until she is standing inches away from me. She lowers her hairbrush and says, “Sing and dance with me, or I’m going to kiss you.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you don’t want me to kiss you. Now, sing and dance with me.”
I frown. “I don’t know the words.”