Long Way Down (Calloway Sisters 4)

Security complies with Connor’s direction, and they just escort Julian out of the ballroom. I notice camera phones raised indiscreetly at us. The media believes Connor and I more or less hate each other, and I have a fucking feeling the world is about to see the truth behind our rocky friendship.

Lo tosses a wet rag at my face. I missed seeing who handed it to him. I press the cloth against my split lip.

“I can’t believe Daisy dated that guy,” Lo says. “I can’t believe we let her date him.”

“She was modeling a lot at the fucking time,” I remind him, my voice coarse. She was part of an industry and a world that none of us stepped a foot into, but Julian did. He was fucking there with her.

“There was little we could do,” Connor agrees.

My phone suddenly buzzes.

“I hope Julius runs into oncoming traffic,” Lo says with edge, eyes burning with malice, and when they meet mine, I can tell his fury is partly for me and partly for Daisy.

I nod at him and mess his hair. He pushes me off with a fleeting smile. I have no fucking intention of ever seeing Julian again, and there’s no way he’ll get in contact with Daisy. I won’t let him.

I finally take out my phone.

My face falls.

“What happened?” Lo asks.

Connor steps closer to me.

“Is it Lily?” Lo tries to see the text, but my world rotates, a sensation close to being fifty feet off the ground. No safety.

No rope.

Just my fingers gripping rock, clinging to my own lifeline. Aware of every muscle, every limb, stretching, burning and screaming. My breath leveled in my lungs. Each one keeping me strong.

It’s the feeling of being alive.

I reread the text, guaranteeing this is happening.

I think I might be pregnant. – Daisy

DAISY CALLOWAY

Crammed into the drugstore bathroom with my four sisters, we huddle close to the toilet so our bodyguards can’t listen through the door. I slip my phone into my red clutch, the pregnancy test resting in the sink basin.

I peek at it again. “It’s so faint.” The two bars aren’t bold and prominent. All three tests look exactly the same. Maybe I’ve joked too much about life that now life is finding ways to play jokes on me.

Rose is smiling and also very careful not to touch anything in the unisex bathroom, wet toilet paper stuck to the gray tiles.

“Your doctor will confirm the pregnancy test,” she tells me, more optimistic than I’ve tended to be. Her rare smile in a filthy bathroom speaks for itself, already happy for me.

Lily waves a plastic stick in the air, anticipating the results. She took a pregnancy test right after me. Just in case, she said. With Rose pregnant, I think Lily’s just worried she’ll have another accident like last time.

We wait for Poppy to go pee, having an easier time with her shorter dress unlike our floor-length gowns. As long as there’s not toilet paper stuck on the bottom of mine, I’m good.

“Sweet Disposition” by The Temper Trap starts playing in my clutch, and I quickly pull out my phone—the ringtone set by Ryke about a year ago. It took him forever to choose, and so I’ve never changed it.

I put the cell to my ear. “Hey.”

“You okay?” Ryke asks first, his concern making me smile.

“Yeah, I’m okay. The bars are really faint on the test, but Rose seems hopeful.”

“But you’re not fucking hopeful?” he asks.

I shrug and then realize he can’t see me. “I haven’t had any morning sickness, and I don’t feel any different. It just seems too good to be true.” The phone is instantly plucked out of my hand.

Rose holds the speaker to her mouth. “We’ll send you pictures of the test. She’s being pessimistic.”

“Cautious,” Lily rephrases.

Poppy flushes the toilet. “Realistic.”

Rose sets a fiery glare on our oldest sister. “You don’t think I’m realistic?”

“I think that you want her to be pregnant at the same time as you.” Poppy washes her hands.

Rose’s lips downturn, not liking the reality of me not being pregnant with her, that she’s carrying a baby before me. If she could, she’d switch places. I know she would, and I love her for loving me and wanting this for me. Simply because I want it to come true.

“Hey!” Ryke shouts through the phone, capturing our attention. “Are you all fucking listening?”

“Yes,” Rose snaps. I gather the pregnancy sticks into the box since we’re planning to toss them at our house. Rose has a large enough purse to carry them out unseen.

I hear Lo’s muffled voice in the receiver before Ryke lets out a frustrated breath and asks, “When are you coming back?”

“Ten minutes,” Rose says.

We exchange see you soons before Ryke hangs up, and then Rose hands me the cell.

A text vibrates my phone.

You’re all fucking crazy. – Ryke

Then another.

Every Calloway sister. – Ryke

And another.

I love you. – Ryke

I can’t contain my smile.

Lily gasps. “I’m not pregnant,” she whispers excitedly. Then she jumps and does a little dance, her butt shaking a lot.

I grin more and give her a high-five.

She adds her pregnancy test to the box, and Rose stuffs it into her black Chanel bag. As soon as Poppy unlocks the door, my bodyguard nearly stumbles back, standing suspiciously close again.

My older sisters give him warning looks; stronger and fiercer than anything I can muster. Even Lily adds her own, and Price clears his throat, seeming a little like a twenty-two-year-old rookie. My sisters’ bodyguards are spread throughout the rinky-dink drugstore.

Blending in.

I stay by the bathroom while Lily peruses a row of junk food, Rose browsing the limited selection of makeup nearby. Poppy sniffs the few candles, and the old store clerk eyes us with curiosity. We’re out of place. Dressed in thousand-dollar gowns in a store with cardboard over a broken window, the neon open sign half burnt out, spelling pen.

I’d say that all of this is putting Price on high alert, but he’s always been overly vigilant. I haven’t had much of a chance to talk to him, and my old bodyguard I knew like a friend.

While I wait for my sisters, I try to feel out Price’s intentions a little more. See if I can understand why he wants to be a bodyguard. “Where are you from?” I ask, realizing I don’t even have this simple answer.

“Here,” he says vaguely, scanning our surroundings.

“New York City?”

“No, I mean, Philadelphia, originally.” Price only briefly makes eye contact, and I kind of feel like I’m interrupting him, even if he’s just standing here.

I angle my body more towards Price. “Have you worn a tux before?” I’d add it looks good on you if I thought he’d take it as platonic, but I’m really wary to say it.

“I can send you my resume if you need it.” He checks his watch and scrutinizes a young couple buying champagne.

“Will your resume tell me if you’ve worn a tux in your lifetime?” I bend down to check the buckles on my heels. “Or if you prefer Octopus dishes and riding motorcycles off cliffs?” I gasp. “Will I know if you put sugar cubes in your coffee?”

“Okay.” His eyes drop to me with a faint smile, his brown hair smoothed back, more charming than his stick-in-the-mud personality. “I know that I’m not forthcoming, but I’m just trying to take care of you tonight.”

“You’re already a success. I’m in one piece.” I stand back up.

“Yale,” he suddenly says.

“What?”

He scans the store again, staring everywhere but at me. “I recently graduated from Yale, Magna Cum Laude in Criminal Justice. I’ve worn tuxes to formals. Grew up in a middleclass family home in Philadelphia. Before my dad passed, we’d build classic cars in our garage from scrat

ch, sometimes bikes. Your father made me ride a Ducati at the highest speed around a racetrack before hiring me. Only my mom could really guarantee my experience with cars and motorcycles, and he didn’t trust her unbiased opinion. I’m fluent in French, Spanish, and German. I aspired to be in the CIA or secret service, but Greg told me how much his daughter travels, the poor security you’ve had in the past, and how you plan to make roots in Philly. Overall, this job seemed like a better fit for my life.” Without losing a single breath, he finishes sharing personal details. Sounding self-assured by each step he’s made from then to now.

“Wow,” I breathe, my mind racing over everything he said, especially the part where Price lost his father and where my dad made him ride a motorcycle at breakneck speeds—before he even had the job. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

“He’s in a better place,” Price says. “Looks like your sisters are done.”

I join them by the checkout counter, Lily buying a medium-sized bag of Doritos. Her green eyes flit to Price then to me. She mouths, Spy?

I shrug, unsure if he’s really here to be a tattletale for our dad.

Instinct tells me to trust him more, but Ryke thinks he might be here to test our relationship. That’s still a possibility too. Price can ride motorcycles and knows foreign languages like Ryke. He’s also so young. I’d think my dad would want to hire a veteran, not an aspiring secret service agent.

Unless there’s more to the story.

Lily collects her Doritos, and Poppy’s bodyguard, Dave, opens the door for us. We exit onto the narrow sidewalk. The commotion outside is much louder and heartier than when we first slipped into the drugstore. I can hear a famous pop singer on a faraway stage. People had been staggering in, the roads blocked off for the New Year’s Eve chaos, but now it’s jam-packed, barely any room to cross over to the other side. Where the high-rise lies.

“Stay close to me,” Rose tells us while our bodyguards reiterate the same thing. No doubt, she’ll be the first to push through the masses.