The moment I wake up, I reach toward the bedside table, swiping my vape off the surface. I haven't even opened my eyes before the cloud of marijuana settles over me, dulling my senses and energizing my muscles. It's a stellar hybrid strain, and it does its job well. It's Fourth of July, and my parents are throwing their annual party. As our family grows, the festivities get even more ambitious. I'll need the barrier of intoxication today. I'll need to be exuberant. And like I said, I'm off the clock.
It's time to play.
I roll out of bed, throwing on a matching athleisure set. I brush my teeth, tie my hair into a ponytail, and do a quick version of my skincare routine that would have my aesthetician sobbing. I hit my vape once more, then conceal the e-cigarette between my boobs.
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I'm quiet on the landing outside my bedroom door, as my eldest sister is pregnant and shacking up with her husband until they find a home nearby. With all of us in the farmhouse, it's almost like we're kids again. However, Sean isn't here. My little brother is probably deep beneath the ocean right now, welding the thrusters on an oil rig. Sadly, that's where he feels safest—away from family, away from fame.
I'm rounding the banister into the foyer when my phone buzzes in my hand. I check the screen, sighing when I see his contact. I step into the downstairs bathroom, lock the door behind me, and put a towel against the gap before I answer. With so many siblings, it's a habit. I can't count how many times my younger brother or sister overheard one of my conversations, and ratted me out to Mom and Dad.
Josie kissed a boy.
Josie's friend is pregnant.
Josie's planning on sneaking out her window tonight.
Josie danced on top of Officer Elliot's squad car, then threw up on him.
There was some planning behind that last incident. Officer Elliot violently arrested my aunt, so he had it coming. And with the chokehold my family has on law enforcement in this town, minor crimes are fair game.
"Hello?" I answer.
"Hey, love," Arthur breathes. His accent is the aphrodisiac that got me in trouble in the first place. "How are you faring?"
It's been three days since the World Cup Final, and the turmoil shows no sign of stopping. People are mailing bullets to Belladonna headquarters. "This is insane."
"It's football," Arthur replies, as if that's justification for wanting someone dead. "Are you safe?"
"I'm at home in New Hope."
That means yes. My family is always more protected when we're together. New Hope is a small suburb of Philadelphia, just an hour away from Manhattan by train. Years ago, my grandparents' address was leaked, but we haven't made that mistake again. Paparazzi know they'll face hefty fines and possible jail sentences if they track us here.
