Kiss the Sky by Krista Ritchie, Becca Ritchie

Rose
myself. We don’t need you to lie for us anymore.”
    Her heels click away, leaving me to picture the impending
meeting of Katarina Cobalt and Rose Calloway.
    There will be screaming. Yelling. Possible bloodshed.
    Though she’s resilient, I’m not so sure Rose will come out
victorious this time.  
    My cellphone chimes and I see the name flash across the
screen. Scott Van Wright. Wonderful.  
    When I answer the phone, I make sure I have the first words.
“Scott, how sweet of you to call, I was beginning to suspect you didn’t like me
very much.”
    “Why would you get that idea?” You want to fuck my girlfriend.
    “You like Rose better.” I throw out the bait, testing his
response.
    “I do like her better,” he tells me. “She’s prettier.” I
wait for him to add something crude like “and she has a pussy” but he doesn’t.
Either I’ve been hanging around vulgar people for too long or he’s censoring
himself.
    “Many men would disagree,” I say casually. “So why the
sudden call?”
    “I’m picking up food from the grocery store. I thought I’d
get some of Rose’s favorite things. What does she like?”
    “Me.”
    He lets out a laugh. “This phone call is being filmed, you
know. I have you on speaker.” He says it like he caught me in a spider’s web.
    “She also loves my cock, my hair, my brain, my body—”
    “Yeah, she loves you so much that she’s still a virgin.” He must have discovered that from an interview. Or
maybe footage of someone mentioning it. Rose isn’t ashamed of being a virgin at
all, so I could see her admitting it to the cameras.
    “And you’re her ex-boyfriend,” I say blankly. “She has
intimacy issues, and it’s not a far reach to conclude it’s from your impotence.”
None of it is true, but I hope he airs this.
    Doubtful .
    He snorts.
    “Oh, and she loves dark chocolate,” I say.
    “I’ll just grab the condoms. How’s that?”
    I clutch the phone tighter. “You’re asking for my permission
to have sex? That’s kind. And the answer is no. I’m already taken.”
    He laughs dryly. “You’re a fucking prick.”
    “I’ve been called worse,” I say, my voice casual still. “But
I’m the prick with the girl. And she’s not inflatable.”
    “I’ll see you at the townhouse,” he says, ignoring my
comment. “You’ll be back really late, right? You’ve got work, college. All that
shit. Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll keep the girls company.”
    He hangs up, and I replay the conversation in my head. He
unnerves me more than any other human being, and the fact that I don’t have to
impress him makes my lips unnaturally loose.
    He called me. To fuck with me.
    It’s working.  

 

 
    [ 7 ]
    ROSE CALLOWAY

 
    “You’re not supposed to look at the cameras,” I
remind Lily for the umpteenth time. She’s trying to ignore Ben and Brett as
they film us from two different angles, but I can tell they make her uneasy.
    At least without Loren around.
    Her boyfriend seems to take her mind off of everything else,
melting her nerves to a placated pool.
    Lily tags along by my side as I bustle around the kitchen
and make a Cobb salad to bring with me to the Calloway Couture offices. I try
not to overanalyze why she’s become glued to my hip.
    She leans in to whisper, “What if I have a booger or
something in my nose?” Her eyes flit anxiously to the lens again. “Or what if I
get sauce or cheese or peanut butter all over my face? I’m a messy eater. Are
they going to use the footage?”
    I set the carrots on the counter and when I turn around, I
almost bump into her again. She steps back and I place my hands on her
shoulders.
      “I don’t have any
control over editing,” I tell her for another umpteenthtime. I also want to tell
her that she doesn’t have to do this. That if she wants out of the show, I’ll
be okay. I’ll be happy.
    But that’s not the complete truth.
    The success of Calloway Couture relies on this show, and the
success