Some Kind of Perfect (Calloway Sisters) by Krista Ritchie & Becca Ritchie

Author:Krista Ritchie & Becca Ritchie [Ritchie, Krista]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: K.B. Ritchie
Published: 2016-05-18T18:30:00+00:00

* * *

I only remember I’m in a fucking leotard and tutu when I park my Land Cruiser at the gym. Four cameramen are waiting by the curb.

“Fuck,” I curse, unbuckling. I turn to the backseat, searching for a pair of pants.

Sullivan waits patiently in her car seat, not afraid of the paparazzi because of Daisy’s Shell Time TV game, but she’s not friendly towards them either. Don’t fucking talk to strangers, we’ve repeated to Sulli a thousand fucking times.

Ropes. Carabineers. A fucking climbing helmet but no change of clothes. “Fuck it.” I open my door to intense hollering and camera flashes.

I’m on an ignore and fuck off setting. I open the passenger door and start unbuckling Sulli, her hands pressed over her ears because of this:

“RYKE!”

“TURN AROUND, RYKE!”

“RYKE, RIGHT HERE!! OVER HERE!”

“SULLIVAN! OVER HERE!!”

“LET’S SEE YOU SMILE, SULLIVAN!” More paparazzi start pulling up in the half-filled parking lot.

I lift Sulli out of the seat. I’d like to carry her inside, but she asks softly, “Can I walk, Daddy?” I put her down on her feet, and she takes my hand.

At this point, the pink leotard rides up my fucking ass, but it’s not even on my list of concerns. One cameraman almost cuts in front of us.

“Back the fuck up,” I curse and another cameraman grabs that guy’s shirt, pulling him out of our way.

“He’s new!” someone shouts, disassociating with that other guy.

That’s it. I pick Sulli up in my arms.

“Daddy.” She wiggles to be set down.

“Just until we go in, Sul.” Two seconds later, I’m pushing open the doors. The gym is sort of fucking empty, but everyone still looks towards us. Even if I didn’t wear this costume, I’d still be stared at.

“Wooow.” Sulli gawks at the rows of equipment. From ellipticals to treadmills to stair climbers. She’s never been in a gym like this one before.

Like I promised, I put her down and then guide her towards the weight benches in the back. I find my little brother on one, Connor spotting.

I scan both of them quickly, but they seem…fine.

“Hey!” I shout angrily.

Lo turns his head, wide-eyed with a what the actual fuck expression—his arms give out. My lungs plummet until Connor seizes the bar, right before it can hit Lo’s chest.

I let out a tight fucking breath.

Lo sits up and motions to me, then to himself, then to Sulli, back to me. He bursts into a smile. “Is it my birthday? Because it’s either Halloween or you forgot to tell me you’ve become a part-time ballerina.”

“He’s my grumpy fairy godmother,” Sulli explains, smiling up at me.

“Only one-third accurate,” Connor says, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Two-thirds goddamn classic.” Lo takes a photo of me.

I don’t mind.

“Uncle Connor?” Sulli walks closer to him but then notices a shiny barbell and heads that way. Still, she asks, “Why are molocooles wet?” She forgets how to say molecules, and he doesn’t have to answer because she tries to pick up the fucking barbell.

I’m already pulling her back a foot or two.

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