My father’s words drill into me, bringing up an insecurity with such ease. “That’s really not your concern.”
“Greg Calloway gives his daughters an allowance. Lily can’t afford to support your apathy forever.”
I clench my phone tightly in my hand, trying so hard to focus. I had a reason to call him after all. “Well, since I am paying per minute, can you stop talking about money and let me speak?”
“Make it quick, I have to get back to a meeting.”
He stepped out of his meeting to answer my call?
That’s all that processes. Greg would have never stopped a meeting for one of his daughters. If Lily needed her father, he’d send an assistant and then find her after his work was finished. My father—he dropped everything for me growing up. If I called him at school, he was the one walking into the principal’s office. But I only needed him when I was in trouble, and he’d yell at me for causing it.
“Have you found the guy?”
“These things take time, Loren,” he says curtly. “Answers don’t just fall down from the goddamn sky.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a sharp breath. “Look, something else happened,” I say quickly. “He sent a package to the Calloway’s house.”
I hear rustling on his end like he’s looking for pen and paper. “Okay, give me the details.”
I explain the dildo and the note, trying to be specific, even though all I want to do is find this guy and make his life a living hell. He’s torturing her.
“He hasn’t asked for anything? Not a dime?”
“No.”
“This sick fuck is making it clear he doesn’t care or want to be found, but I’ll try my best.” He pauses. “How is she?”
I laugh bitterly. “Since when do you care?” He wasn’t fond of Lily when we were teenagers. He believed having a female as a friend was like girl repellent, and if she wasn’t putting out for me, then I should kick her to the curb. But I knew once I started a fake relationship with Lily, he’d be pleased. And he was. Only because she suddenly became of use to me.
I never saw her like that—an object that I could fuck or toss away. My father’s perception of women is demented.
“Please, she’s practically my daughter-in-law,” he says defensively. “And if Greg and Samantha Calloway ever find out she’s a sex addict, don’t think they won’t react accordingly.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means when you’re both fucking broke and homeless, I’ll be here to pick up the pieces. Just like I’ve always done with the two of you. Cleaning up your goddamn messes.”
I narrow my eyes at the ground. That’s his fucked up way of saying he’ll be there for me when everything goes to shit.
“Just find this guy,” I snap.
“Of course.” Voices puncture the other end and then he says, “I have to go. The partners are getting restless. Impatient, fucks. I’ll see you next week?”
I don’t know what for, but I just end up saying yeah. We hang up, and I feel as paranoid and anxious as I did before. Obviously, that did not help. No conversation with my father ever really does.
{ 29 }
LOREN HALE
The nightclub transforms into a live show, complete with impersonators, dancers, and flying trapeze artists. A huge square-shaped bar fills the center floor where girls dance and take body shots. Ever since I was ill from the fish tacos, I don’t even flinch when a drink passes by. I have no desire to be sick again.
The Calloway girls made a goal to drink and dance tonight, which I translated as: We’re getting drunk.
Connor, Ryke, and I promised them that they could go crazy and we’d be the responsible ones, fit to take care of them. For once, I’m on the other side of things. And it feels pretty good.
I like knowing that I have the power to keep Lily safe. Before, all of that seeped away with each whiskey I downed. So yeah, this is new. But it’s a good new.
The crowds aren’t as large as the concert yesterday, and Connor bought a balcony table so we can keep an eye on the girls. We’re seated on the highest level, and the psychedelic lights strobe around us—well, around Connor and me. Ryke is still in the bathroom.
I have a clear view of the three Calloway girls, all of them hovering around the square bar. Rose carries two glasses of some pink concoction, handing one to Daisy.
“Have you ever seen Rose drunk?” I ask Connor. The event has to be like a lunar eclipse or something.