“I’m not trying to create a situation where you need the drugs,” I say. “I just want to be your sister again.”
“And my manager?” Skepticism lifts one of his brows. “You want to be that, too?”
“I still have two years left at Columbia. We could start with me just being your sister.” A wide smile stretches across my face at the prospect. “And then see what happens.”
FLOW - Chapter 10
Grip
I HATE CARNIVALS.
My cousin Jade used to drag me to these things and make me stay until the smell of funnel cake wasn’t even sweet anymore. We
’d ride the Ferris wheel and run through the fun house. We’d play every game we could afford and some we managed to swindle our way into. Ring toss. Big Six Wheel. Ring the Bell. Skeeball. Jade’s so competitive, I’d have to let her win the basket toss most of the time. Not so much she’d get suspicious, but enough that she didn’t pout the whole damn time.
Something shifted between Jade and me along the way. I know it started with a secret shame we share, and over time, that deteriorated our closeness some. When I won the scholarship, leaving her in our local public school, things only worsened. We’re still close, but it isn’t what it was before. Maybe it’s just a part of growing up.
All that to say, I hate carnivals.
And Jimmi’s “brill” idea (her whack word, not mine) to show Bristol some fun before she leaves is this carnival. It could be worse. Rhyson could be stuck in the studio again, and I could be entertaining Bristol by myself. And that could get touchy … since I want to fuck her.
I mean, yes, talk to her ’til the sun comes up, laugh about the stand-up comedians we both like, exchange playlists, debate hot-button politics, explore all the ways we are different and just alike … but also I want to fuck her.
And never more so than last night in the alley. That sensuality I wasn’t sure Bristol understood about herself gyrated on the dance floor. The way her eyes dropped closed when she took her first sip of Grey Goose, licking the drops from her lips and savoring their taste. The way she rolled her hips, even sitting on her stool, her body seeking out the primal beat of the music. She says she can’t dance, but it wasn’t skill that had her out on the floor. It was her body pinned up, searching for release. And she thought she would find it with that Zeta Delta Dick frat boy who had been scoping her all night. I could barely focus from song to song as I watched her. Watched him watching her. I knew I couldn’t give her the release she wanted, but he certainly wasn’t going to.
It feels like this has been building between us for months, but it’s only been days. I had decided to squelch it, but when I heard her master plan about moving to LA and managing Rhyson, something turned over inside my head. A possibility? A maybe? Doing what she’s doing, staking her college career, planning her future based on helping her brother’s dreams come true, it’s crazy.
And so completely right.
I’ve known since the beginning that Rhyson will have to play again. We use the word genius like it’s nothing. I mean, seriously. Apple genius? But he is legit genius. Like playing Beethoven at three years old genius. And for him to neglect his gift, in whatever form it takes—classical, modern, pop, rock—is a travesty. Everyone around him knows it. Jimmi, our friend Luke, Grady. I know it, but none of us have called him on it. We have this silent pact to let him come to it on his own. He has to after what he endured for years under his parents’ tyrannical management. But Bristol, who hasn’t even seen him in five years, does it. She’s so sure it’s right that she’s betting her Ivy League education on it. She’s planning her future around it. She’s challenging him in a way none of us were willing to do.
And that’s my kind of girl. That abandoned passion. That bottomless commitment. You don’t meet people like her often, and when you do, you never forget them. I couldn’t get her out of my mind before, but now …
I glance over at Bristol and Jimmi, who are playing water guns with Rhyson. It’s good to see the siblings laughing. Maybe they worked things out after I dropped Bristol off last night. They seem to be trying to enjoy the little time they have left. She leaves in two days. Why that feels so shitty this fast baffles me.
“Come on, Grip!” Jimmi eyes me over her shoulder as she sprays blindly at the target in front of her. “Grab a gun.”
“Nah.” I munch on the popcorn I grabbed a few booths back. “I’m good.”
Carnivals do have good popcorn. But funnel cake? I ate so much of it with Jade, the smell nauseates me. When they finish the game, the girls want to do rides.
“Ferris wheel.” Jimmi presses her hands together in a plea to Rhyson. “Please ride with me.”
Rhyson carefully considers the girl who has been one of our closest friends since high school. She’s also had a crush on Rhyson about as long as she’s known him. He’s very careful with her heart, though, encouraging her as little as possible. Rhyson gets as much ass as I do, but he’s just on the low with his shit. He knows there should be a huge KEEP OUT sign all over him for Jimmi.
“Okay, we can ride.” Rhyson holds up an index finger. “Once, Jim. I know how you get. All ‘again, again’.”
“Cool.” Jimmi’s expression may be calm, but her eyes dance all over the place. “We can talk about that song I’m working on.”
She knows him well. As soon as she says that, Rhyson is in. Talking music theory and asking about chord changes will occupy them for the whole ride.
“We’re down to ride, too.” Luke, the other guy we’ve been tight with for years and a fellow arts alum, hooks his elbow around his girlfriend Mandi’s neck.
“I ate that polish sausage.” Mandi looks a little green. “Think I’ll be okay on the Ferris wheel?”
I wouldn’t trust it. You can’t ever un-see projectile vomit, and there’s nothing sexy about that.
“So, you’ll ride with Grip then, Bristol?” Jimmi looks between the two of us with a gleam in her eye. Don’t let the blonde hair fool ya. Jimmi’s sharp as a new pair of scissors. She probably picked up on the vibe between Bristol and me last night. We don’t need her matchmaking. I’m trying to figure out how not to complicate this situation more. The last thing we need is be alone on the—