“If the baby is unresponsive, you call 911. And then you place him or her on a hard flat surface.” He motions to the coffee table in the middle of the circle. “And you start CPR.” Connor takes us through the steps: thirty chest compressions with our fingers, opening the airway, and administering rescue breaths. I file all the information into the important—don’t ever forget folder in my head.
My heart beats loudly in my chest. Okay, I can do this. I internally nod, boosting some of my self-confidence. I can’t be declared a bad mom until I do something wrong. So Celebrity Crush and their polls can suck it.
I blow out a breath, and then I lightly tap Bert’s foot. “Bert? Bert?” I say. “Can you hear me?”
“Bert?” Lo laughs at my name choice.
My brows pinch. “What’s your baby’s name?” Bert is awesome. He’s already a winner. I can feel it.
Lo holds his doll to his ear, as though listening to him speak. He’s teasing me, and I find myself hooking a finger through Lo’s belt loop, holding Bert in the crook of my arm. “Knew it,” Lo says with a nod, bringing his baby back down.
“What’s his name?” I already feel myself smiling.
“Ernie,” he says, and my heart swells. And then he taps his baby’s arm. “Ernie, buddy? Can you hear me?”
The doorbell rings, and I jump in fright. “Who is it?” I ask.
Everyone shakes their heads like they didn’t invite someone over today.
Connor sets his doll on the table and then disappears in the foyer to answer the door. The room is layered with tense silence. Since we’re all here, the person outside is most likely a bearer of bad news. Why else would they stop by?
28
LILY CALLOWAY
“Do you need a hand with that?” I hear Connor say.
“No, I have it.”
I recognize the second manly voice: Sam Stokes. And in a second, both guys emerge in the living room, Sam carrying a box with Fizzle’s logo on the side. He’s in a suit like he’s been at work all Saturday afternoon.
“Hey,” he greets, but his gaze lands on Ryke, heading over to him. “The shipment came in today, and we’ll need to talk later about the unveiling.” He sets the box at Ryke’s feet and squats down to open it. I remember Ryke mentioning that my dad wanted his help, but he shrugged it off and said it wasn’t going to pan out.
So his face is darkened with confusion.
I find myself patting my doll’s butt in comfort, like Bert is alive. My cheeks heat, hoping no one noticed.
“He really wants to go through with this?” Ryke asks Sam. “It’s a f**king bad idea.”
“It’s not,” Sam says, trying to cut through the taped package by ripping at it. He struggles as he talks. “We did multiple focus groups, and more people were drawn to the product when you were the face of it.”
“I was dropped by multiple f**king brands,” Ryke reminds him. “My image isn’t good, and I shouldn’t be representing any kind of drink.” Huh. My dad is creating a new drink?
Sam stops fighting with the box and looks up at Ryke. “You’re masculine, athletic and you never quit, which is what we’re branding. If you don’t want to help, all you have to do is say so. Don’t waste my time.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Daisy chimes in. “Not for me.”
Sam catches sight of Daisy, and his eyes grow big at her hair. “That’s a…new color.”
“Neon I’m-Going-to-Blind-You Yellow,” Lo adds. “What’s terrifying is that some girl is probably going to copy her.”
I don’t elbow Lo again. Daisy is solely concentrated on Ryke, and I can read his expression pretty well. He wants to smooth things out with our parents, and she can’t stop him from doing it. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a Swiss army knife. Then he bends down and cuts open the box for Sam.
I near with Lo, too curious to stand back, and Ryke grabs one of the slim plastic bottles, translucent blue liquid inside. I understand the moment I read the silver label: Ziff. And below that is the flavor: Blue Squall.
It’s a sports drink, the kind that can rival PepsiCo’s Gatorade and Coca-Cola’s Powerade. It’s the one arena Fizzle has failed at multiple times, and I suppose he’s hoping they can launch a new string of sports drinks with Ryke as the face.
“Ziff?” Ryke says with furrowed brows.
“It’s Fizz backwards, with two f’s.”
“I got that,” Ryke says and then uncaps the bottle. I’m guessing it’s blueberry flavored, more of a midnight color. We all watch Ryke put the bottle to his lips and take a swig. He instantly puts his bicep to his mouth, his face contorting in disgust.
Oh no.
Lo lets out a laugh. “Swallow it,” he says in jest, reaching into the box to grab a bottle for himself. I blush at those words.
Connor even collects a bottle. “It must be bad if Ryke can’t keep it down.”
“I’ve tried it. It’s decent,” Sam says.
Ryke finally swallows the liquid and takes a breath like he was drowning. “What the f**k is this shit?” He stares at the label and starts reading the ingredients. “It tastes like deer bile and piss.”
Connor arches a brow. “He’s tasted piss before.”
“And deer bile,” Lo chimes in with a grimace.
“Fucking A, you two try it.”
I’m glad I haven’t been included in this. I’m not going near anything that tastes like pee. No thank you.
Daisy rocks on her heels. “I’ll try it.” Of course my gutsy sister would. Ryke passes her his bottle, and she sips Ziff about the same time that Lo and Connor drink theirs.
Daisy spits it out almost instantly and rubs her tongue with her fingers. “Ugh, that’s bad.”
Connor and Lo are able to keep their drinks down, but I can tell Lo needs a chaser, his forehead wrinkling in distress. I’m about to retrieve him a water, but Rose stands up and nods to me like she’ll do it. She’s already eyeing the bit of Blue Squall on the rug that Daisy spewed.
“Sorry, Rose,” Daisy calls after her. “I can clean it…”
“It’s fine,” Rose says, already disappearing in the kitchen.
“I thought you said she swallows,” Lo tells his brother. Oh my God. This time, I punch him in the chest, away from his ribs. He looks remorseful and more unsettled, probably because he realizes it was about Daisy.
Ryke runs a hand through his hair and glances hesitantly at Daisy, who has wide, large eyes. This is a clear indication that they discuss sex, and us, when we’re not with them. This means I no longer should feel guilty when me and my sisters do it too. I nod at this resolution.
Sam mumbles, “I’m going to pretend I never heard any of that.” He rises to his feet and nods to Connor. “It’s not that bad.”
“Ziff,” Connor recites, “it’s not that bad. Drink it.” I crinkle my nose. Yeah, that’s not going to sell anything.
Sam sighs in frustration and crosses his arms. “My hands are tied here. Even if it doesn’t taste that great to you, it has ranked well among our other flavors on board. Greg wants to launch with Blue Squall soon.”
We’re all quiet for a moment. And then Lo says, “You remember Mountain Berry Fizz?” He just brought up an apocalyptic moment in Fizzle’s history. I remember MBF very, very well.