Wish you were Sober by Conan Gray

Real sweet but I wish you were sober.

I spot Grayson and Avery talking. Avery is still mad at me and avoiding me so I keep my distance. That is until Grayson starts walking somewhere, Avery follows him, Eli follows Avery so I follow Eli. 

I stay far enough back that they can't hear me. They walk up to the third floor, round winding corridors, up a wrought iron staircase and finally into a room with quilts covering the walls. I have to hold back a cough from the dusty room. I hide on the other side of the door watching closely.

Grayson pulls back a quilt and a passage is revealed. He says something to Avery and she replies before going through, Grayson follows and I crawl inside, overtaking Eli who gives me a dangerous look. A short tunnel ends with ladders going stories high. Grayson is at the top and he climbs through the pull down at the top. 

I start climbing when the pull down closes. I reach the top and push the trapdoor open. I pull myself through and close it.

Avery and Grayson stand cross armed in front of Jameson who is leaning against the roof. I look around and only now realise we are on the roof of the house.

"Why are you on a rooftop?" I ask, "Why are you here?" Avery fires back. "Because I'm inquisitive" I shrug. "Well go be inquisitive somewhere else." She shoos. "Stop trying to leave me out." I fight back. "Stop copying everything I do." She replies. "Stop doing everything humanly possible to be different." I persist. 

"Stop trying to start things." She argues.

"Stop being a bitch." I continue.

"Stop acting like an entitled asshole." She yells.

"Stop breathing you fucking cunty, cockjuggling, shiteating wanker-" I raise the stakes.

"What the fuck." Jameson interrupts bluntly. Grayson's eyebrows are raised very high, not that high but higher than I've seen them.

"What the fuck can you say Jameson? You fight with your brothers after the mildest inconvenience." I spit. 

"At least I'm mature enough to actually fight them instead of throwing around insults." He responds.

"Oh bite me Hawthorne." I scoff. "You would like that wouldn't you" he grins sarcastically to himself.

"You're behaving like children." Grayson scoffs. "Because we are." I reply. It's hard to remember that through all of this, we are still children despite the harsh adult situations thrown our way. 

Grayson does not bite back, "Jameson? Why do you need a plane?" He asks, my face scrunches up. "What?" I ask. "Jameson asked to borrow one of my planes, keep up." Avery fills me in. 

'One of my planes' is a sentence i never thought i would here my sister say.

"Colin's Way was founded in memory of Colin Anders Wright. Colin was one of the victims of the fire on Hawthorne Island. The charity was founded by his uncle." Jameson tells us, facing the sky. 

"And?" Grayson gets impatient. Jameson doesn't want to be the one who tells him.

"That uncle's name is Sheffield Grayson."

Grayson isn't one for emotion. However, in that moment, there was a clear shift. His face dropped painfully. 

"That's why you went to see Skye," Grayson realises. His voice tight.

"She confirmed it, Gray." Jameson tells. "He's your father."

Grayson goes quiet, that is until Jameson tosses a knife from his hand I never noticed. Grayson catches it effortlessly.

"There is no way that the old man didn't know. For twenty years, he included Colin's Way in his will." A muscle in Grayson's throat tightens "Was he trying to make a point to Skye?"

"Or was he leaving her a clue?" Jameson suggests. "Think about it, Gray. He left a clue for us in the newer will. Maybe that was an old trick, one he'd used before."

"This isn't just a clue," Grayson says, his voice low and harsh. "This is my..." He can't manage the word father.

"I know." Jameson moves to stand in front of his brother, lowering his forehead until it touches Grayson's. "I know, Gray, and if you let this be a game, it doesn't have to hurt."

"Nothing has to matter," Grayson replies firmly, "unless you let it."

"This Sheffield Grayson might know something about the fire, Avery. About Toby." Grayson turns to Avery.

How can a person possibly be so selfless. His entire world has just been flipped after a revelation about his Father and he's thinking of Avery.

"You don't have to do this," Avery assures him

Grayson tightens his grip of the knife. "Neither one of you is going to leave this alone. If I can't stop you, I can at least make sure that someone with a modicum of common sense oversees the process."

Grayson tosses the knife back to his brother.

"I'll arrange for the plane. We leave at dawn." Jameson smiles.

Jameson turns to me, dropping his smile. "You coming Paris?" He asks. That hurt. I never thought I would miss being called one of his ridiculous nicknames.

"Not this time." I say. Avery can't go either due to the will stating she must stay in the house.

The next day, both boys are gone and I've been waiting for a report from Avery. 

Someone knocks on my door, i get up to answer hoping it's Avery with some news. 

"Coming." I groan.

I open the door and look up, I see Avery and let her in. As I am about to close the door, Maxine Liu pops out and surprises me. 

"Maximilian!" I screech. "Pear Bear!" She yelps equally as loud as me. I quickly pull her into a hug and she lifts me up. "I missed you!" I say as I am lowered down to the ground. 

"I missed you too." She smiles. 

I gasp suddenly, "Happy Birthday!" 

"I'm officially 18." She sings. "You can get a tattoo. And vote!" I grin, more excited that her.

"You know, I was just telling Xander about you. You would get along so well." I say. 

"I've seen the videos online. About what happened on the Fourth of July. That was brave. It sucks the backlash it had though." Max tells me. "Backlash?" I ask curiously. 

"Don't tell her. She's banned from looking online after everything. I bought her a whole new phone with parental locks so she can't look on social media." Avery sighs. 

"Is it that bad?" I frown, "Well it's not good." Is all Max says with a mild shrug.

We start giving Max a tour and by the time we get to the bowling alley Avery's phone begins ringing. "Jameson," she reports, looking up at me.

"Don't mind me." Max beams. "Pretend I'm not even here."

She answers the call on speaker "What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"Other than the fact that my stick-in-the-mud brother utterly refuses to play Drink or Dare while we wait?" Jameson says. "Things are just peachy."

"Drink or Dare?" Avery asks. "No—don't answer that. What exactly are you waiting on?"

He pauses. "Sheffield Grayson has security that rivals ours. There's no getting near the man unless he wants you to."

"And he doesn't want Grayson near him." Avery says. "Is he okay?" I speak up. Jameson does not answer.

"Grayson has business cards—and yes, I mocked him mercilessly for that. He wrote our hotel information on the back of one and left it with the guard at the gate to the Grayson estate."

"And so you wait," Avery says quietly.

"And so we wait." Jameson repeats.

"Don't worry, Heiress." Jameson goes back to his usual banter. "I will prevail on the Drink or Dare front if we have to wait around much longer."

Avery hangs up.

"So the boys you want to fax took your private jet to Arizona in hopes that the mystery father of one of said boys knows something about a tragic and deadly fire, lo these many years ago." Max summarises.

"That about covers it. Except I don't want to fax anyone." Avery says.

"Correction. The boy Paris already faxed and the one she's on the road to faxing" she corrects.

"Max!" I yelp. 

"You want to tell me what you're doing here? We both know you're not okay." Avery turns the tables.

"Maybe I'm not. But I am standing in the middle of a bowling alley in your house. This place is unbelievable!"

"Now, is there anything else about the Bonkers Life of Billionaire Avery that you left out?"

"There is one more thing," Avery says. "Remember Emily?"

"Died and left a thousand broken pieces in her wake?" Max says. "Loss reverberates through all the players in her tragedy to this day? Yes, I remember Emily."

"Tonight, I'm going to a fundraiser in her honor." Avery says. That's news to me.

"You are?" I speak up. "Yeah. I told you that you're not allowed out again. You're officially grounded." She shrugs.

"Okay, first of all, I remember like nothing from that day because -in case you've forgotten- I was shitfaced. Second, I don't want to go anyway. And third, you can't ground me." I list. 

"First, who's fault is that? Second, Me neither. Third, yes I can and I did." She lists mockingly.

"I got drunk. We all do it at some point. You can't ground me for being human." I reply.

"Paris, maybe it's something we all do at some point but most people don't do it underage on live television." Avery lectures. I roll my eyes, "It was bad timing but to be fair I just had a breakup. With Jameson who, might I point out, never goes to a single event sober. In fact I don't think I've had a conversation with the man when he's been sober. But we ignore it because he's hot. Am I not hot Avery?" I exaggerate. 

"No Babes, you're super hot." Max winks in my direction. "See, Max loves me. Why don't you?" I embellish. "You're literally arguing with yourself right now." Avery scoffs.

"Please don't ground me Ave" I frown giving her my best puppy dog eyes. "Too late." She smiles in a cunning mock sympathy. "It's not like you have a social life outside of this house anyway." She grins proud of herself. 

My jaw drops and my hand goes to my heart dramatically. "Kidding" she puts her hands up in surrender. "I mean I'm not kidding but anything to make you happy." She says with the most innocent look on her face. 

Much later into the night, Max and I sit on Avery's bed whilst she gets her makeup done for the event. Landon is here helping her with what and what not to say.

"Where are you with developing your talking points and your theme?" Landon asks.

"You have a theme?" Max pipes up beside me. "Is it smash the patriarchy? I hope it's smash the patriarchy." 

"I like it," Avery tells Max. "Why don't you come up with some talking points?"

"Hold still." The makeup artist says to Avery, yanking her chin aggressively.

"I don't think that would be prudent," Landon says, glancing at Max.

"Patriarchy smashing is always prudent," I assure her.

"Look up, I'm going to get started on your eyes." The makeup artist orders Avery.

"Why don't you just save us all a lot of time and effort and tell me what you want me to say?" Avery asks Landon.

"We need to communicate that you are relatable, grateful for the tremendous opportunity you've been given, on good terms with the Hawthorne family, and exceedingly unlikely to throw multiple billion-dollar industries into chaos.. But how you communicate those things is up to you. If I write the script, it will sound like a script, so you need to do the work here, Avery. What can you authentically say about this whole experience?"

"It's incredible." 

It's a lot more than incredible.

"Good," Landon continues. "And?"

"I wish my mom were here." 

I frown and look up at my sister. She is currently being attacked by a mascara wand. My heart aches for her. 

"You're on the right track," Landon says. "Truly. But for the time being, it would be best to avoid bringing up your mother."

Two hours later, Avery wears a knee-length dress made of lavender silk, with a black lace wrap and black knee-high boots.

"I did some research." Max shares once its just the three of us. "Looks like there's a tabloid that keeps writing stories about your mom."

"Saying what?" Avery asks eagerly.

"The tabloid claims your mom was living under a fake name. So far, no one else has picked up the story, so it's probably bullship, but..."

"But Landon doesn't want me talking about my mom," Avery says. "She didn't have any family, It was just the three of us."

"It might make sense," Max says. "Wasn't Toby living under a fake name, too?"

"Are you ready?" Alisa calls. "Are we sure I can't skip this?" Avery begs.

"You have five minutes." Is all Alisa says. 

Avery turns back to Max. "We wear the same size," She says.

"And that is of interest why?" Max raises an eyebrow.

"Get dressed, birthday girl. There's no way I'm going to this thing on my own."

"Woah. Lucky you Max!" I cheer in a faux excitement.

Three hours later I'm still at home. I'm listening to music and playing games on my phone. This is what happens when I'm banned from social media, I become a child.

I'm exhausted but I can't go to sleep. I won't let myself. I hate the fomo I feel right now. I worry that something could be happening right now and I would never know. Someone could be getting hurt, someone could already be dead by now.

I try to stop my mind from thinking those things but the thoughts flood my mind and haunt me.

It's not a good feeling knowing the world is against your family. 

I place my phone down and start unwillingly falling asleep. Thankfully however the vibrations of my phone begins awakening me.

Jameson calling.

I scrunch my face up, why would he be calling me?

"Hello?" I ask tiredly. 

Silence. 

"Paris?"

Not Jameson.

"Grayson?"

Why's he calling at 1am from Jameson's phone?

"Did something happen? Are you-" I sit-up in a panic.

"Jameson dared me to call."

"Jameson what?" I exasperate.

"Jameson when, Jameson where, Jameson who?" Jameson, in the background, speaks up.

"Am I on speakerphone?" I ask. "And is Jameson drunk?"

"He shouldn't be," Grayson says. "He doesn't really turn down dares."

His words aren't slurred, he isn't speaking slow however it occurs to me in the moment, Grayson Hawthorne might be drunk?

"Let me guess," I sigh. "You're playing Drink or Dare."

"You're really good at guessing things," drunk Grayson says. "Y'know, The old man prolly knew that. He knew everything. Why wouldn't he choose you if he knew?" 

I've never heard Grayson drunk before, I note that a drunken Grayson uses a lot more abbreviations. You would never catch sober Grayson saying 'prolly' or 'y'know'.

"I'm gonna go now." 

"Don't hang up." I interrupt. "Why? You wanna talk?" He almost laughs at me. "No. I don't want you to hang up because you could both fall asleep, choke on your own vomit, die and become the two rich boys who tragically died in a hotel room." I state. 

"You care." I can practically hear Grayson's smirk. "She only cares about herself." Jameson slurs. "Not about you. You can go take a nap. Grayson, I care about." I say smugly. 

"She used to care about me most." Jameson mutters. I keep quiet for a moment. "Just don't lie down unless you're on your side and one of you is still awake, don't drink anymore either. Please." I instruct. 

"Little late for Jameson on that last thing." Grayson says, I hear someone gurgle and determine it to be Jameson with a mouth full of liquor teasing me. 

"Please, Jamie. I still care about you." I beg. He takes a deep breath. 

I hear a thud in the background.

"We have to go," Grayson says but when he goes to hang up the phone, he must hit the wrong button, because I can still hear the two of them.

"I think we can both agree," Jameson says, "that it's time for Drink or Dare to give way to Drink or Truth."

Now if I was a good person with good morals I would hang up and pretend it's nothing however being the person I am I turn the volume up on my phone and mute myself.

"What did you say to Paris," I hear Jameson ask, "What did you say to Paris when she told you about Skye? Why didn't you tell anyone?" He pauses. His voice softens and the air changes. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

Something about the way he says that makes me regret listening in.

Grayson replies something. I can't quite interpret what exactly he says however it doesn't seem to matter as he is cut off by a knocking. "The door," Grayson says dumbfounded as if he's never heard a knock on a door before.

I listen closely as the door creaks open and conversation with a man begins. Initially I can't make out a word only muffles but something moves, whether it's the conversation or the phone and I can suddenly hear every word.

"You obviously aren't surprised to see me." Grayson says, seemingly becoming sober in mere seconds.

"I've built three different companies from the ground up. You don't achieve what I have achieved without an eye to potential eventualities. Potential risks. Frankly, young man, I expected Skye to tell you about me years ago."

Risk? Grayson?

"You were married when I was conceived. Still are. You have children. I can't imagine that you are happy at my intrusion on your life, so let's keep this short, shall we?"

"Why don't you cut to the chase and tell me why you're really here? You were recently cut out of the family fortune. Financially speaking, you may have found that you have certain... needs."

"You think we're here for money?" Jameson speaks up.

"I've found that the simplest explanation is most often the correct one. If you're here for a payout—"

"I am not." 

I can imagine how Grayson looks right now. Jaw clenched, standing tall, intimidating. I'd like to think this is how he feels as well however I'm sure in this moment he feels as though he is being torn apart.

"For reasons I won't be sharing with you," I hear Grayson say, "I am looking into what happened twenty years ago on Hawthorne Island."

Pause.

"Are you, now?"

"My sources have led me to believe that the press coverage of the tragedy is, shall we say... incomplete."

"What sources?"

I can practically hear Grayson smile. "I'll make you a deal. You tell me what the news stories left out, and I'll tell you what my sources have said about Colin."

From the sounds of it, Sheffield Grayson freezes. He says something quietly in a low voice that is too quiet to understand over the phone. 

"My grandfather was the most honorable man I know." Grayson says defensively.

"Tell that to Kaylie Rooney, Who do you think spoon-fed that story to the press? Who do you think quashed anything the least bit unflattering to his family?"

Grayson's next response is quiet and I struggle to hear anything but murmurs.

"Toby Hawthorne was a little punk." Sheffield says, "No regard for the law, for his own limitations, for anyone but himself."

"And Colin wasn't like that?" Jameson stands up for his family.

"Colin was going through a rough patch, but he would have come out of it. I would have dragged him out of it. He had his whole life ahead of him."

Another mutter in response.

"The Rooney girl never even should have been there! She was a criminal. Her parents? Criminals. Cousins, grandparents, aunts, and uncles? Criminals."

"But the fire wasn't her fault." Grayson's voice is louder now, clearer. "You've implied as much already."

"Do you know how much I paid to private detectives to get real answers?" Sheffield snaps. "Probably only a fraction of what your grandfather paid the police to bury their report. The fire on Hawthorne Island wasn't an accident. It was arson—and the person who purchased the accelerant was your uncle Toby."

The line goes dead quiet. 

"Grayson?" I speak, unmuting myself. "Jameson?" I try.

Silence.

"Gray?" I speak louder in desperation. 

I eventually hang up and recall both boys several times. Worry blows over me like an autumn breeze, crawling over my skin and leaving goosebumps. The anger I had heard in Sheffield Grayson's voice was not a man I'd like to mess with.

"Fuck" I mutter as I stand up from my bed and pace back and forth. 

I run down the staircase to the foyer where I wait desperately for Avery to arrive home.

After a short wait Avery, Max, Oren, Eli and Alisa arrive home. Moments later Nash, Libby and Xander also arrive home. 

"Pear what are you doing up?" Avery asks giving me a brief hug. 

"Just waiting." I say shortly. "Has anyone heard from Grayson or Jameson recently?" I ask. 

"Not in a good few hours, kid. Why what's up?" Nash asks in his thick accent. "I just wanted to make sure they're okay." I say.

"Why would they not be?" Libby asks concerned. I glance to everyone in the room. 

"It's just a drunk call I got from Grayson, they were both there and I guess they tried to hang up but missed the button so I overheard a conversation and I was concerned in the moment but I'm sure it's nothing." I explain, trying not to make it too obvious.

"Wait, Grayson was drunk?" Xander almost laughs. "Yeah. I'm guessing that doesn't happen often?" 

"Try never. What was the conversation?" Nash says, growing slightly concerned.

"Nothing dramatic just something they said I wanted to talk to them about." I say. 

"I'll try him" Nash says, whipping out a cell phone and tapping various buttons. 

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

It goes flat.

Nash's eyebrows fury. "Anything I should be concerned about?" He asks once again.

"No, thats my job. It's definitely nothing but It's late and I'm probably overthinking." I confirm.

Nash nods and walks towards the staircase, waiting at the bottom for Libby who stops to kiss my cheek and whisper "Night Pear" to me before being escorted to her room by Nash. 

I gesture for Alisa and Oren to leave so I can talk to Avery, Xander and Max.

Alisa gives me a warning look and leaves, Oren follows however Eli waits a little farther away for Avery.

"Now what really happened?" Xander asks. 

"Jameson called me about an hour ago, Grayson picked up and I could tell they were both drunk and had been playing 'drink or dare'" I say with air quotes.

"Without me?" Xander frowns. 

"Jameson dared Grayson to call me and when he 'hung up' he didn't hang up. I kept listening and Sheffield Grayson came in. They argued a little. Then Sheffield dropped the bombshell. Apparently it was Toby Hawthorne who was behind the fire which is why your Grandfather paid to cover it up." I summarise, glancing at Xander towards the end.

Silence for a moment. 

"Sheffield sounded super mad. Then everything went quiet. I tried shouting out for them, whether they couldn't hear me or couldn't answer, I don't know. I eventually hung up and spent the last hour trying to reach them but nothing." I explain.

"You think they're okay?" Max asks. "I think -knowing my brothers- they've either got themselves brutally murdered or are completely fine and just silenced their phones. No in between." Xander jokes.

"Let's hope for the latter." Avery says. 

Everyone goes quiet. 

"I'll try them a couple times." Xander says, walking calmly away and retreating up the staircase, leaving the three of us.

We start walking back together quietly.

"Did you bid on anything nice?" I ask, trying to lighten the conversation with some icebreakers.

"Not really. Max cost the rich snobs a total of 200 thousand dollars." Avery shrugs.

"Love to hear it" I smile proudly. 

"Actually.. Thinking about it Avery, I guess now you could be considered a rich snob" I shrug my shoulders teasingly. She smiles sarcastically. 

"At least I'll never need to work another day in my life." She shrugs delicately. "See, that sounds like something a rich snob would say." I reinforce with a laugh.

She looks to Max for defence. "Hey don't drag me into your sisterly fights." Max laughs.