A Bite at the Cherry: A High School Vampire Bully Romance (Blackburn Academy Book 1)

by Rita Stradling

  “So,” she said, “George wanted me to tell you that there will be some rules while you live here. It’s nothing personal, but we can’t be too careful about this type of thing, darling. Do you want a drink? The butler can make you a Tequila Sunrise — or whatever you like.” She crossed over to the bar and slid her drink across it to the man standing there.

  The bartender was probably mid-twenties, tall and muscular. Even though he wore a collared shirt and tie and sported an all-around neat demeanor, there was something about him that screamed hired muscle. He looked more Brutus than Jeeves, like a lion that they attempted to dress as a house cat.

  “This is our butler, Henry,” Ms. Roberts said as she accepted two drinks, what looked like a mojito and a scotch. “Do you want a drink? Why are you so quiet? Am I shocking you? I really hope not. I want us to be friends.”

  “No to the drink. And I guess I’m a little intimidated because your house is so big, and you said that there were rules.”

  “I really like that you’re here. Do you believe that everything happens for a reason, April?” she asked as she raised her drink to her lips. “I do. I foresaw someone was coming. It’s been happening for days, and, seeing you, I know it was you all along. You are going to be good for us. You have a beautiful sunshiny aura around you, and I just love your look and your vibe. But you’re going to need to be more incorporated in our lives. I saw that, too.”

  I was recalculating my earlier estimation of five drinks up to around ten. I was pretty sure that it was the alcohol talking, but it was still interesting how Mrs. Roberts phrased her words. She foresaw that I was going to be good for them — not the other way around. “Thanks.” Biting my lip, I headed around the sofa, hoping the move looked more like I was simply walking through the room rather than trying to put a couch between us. “I should probably get back. My nana is moving all of her books herself.”

  “The rules, darling.” She paced alongside me, pausing at the end of the sofa. “The rules.” She gestured out wildly, splashing her drink onto the floor. “There are only two rules that I need you to follow. The first rule is that you can’t do anything to embarrass the family. No nude photoshoots. No drinking or drugs or sex or violence when our guests are around. We have a reputation to think of here at all times, so we need to keep everything quiet.”

  “I would never do any of that.”

  She reached over the couch and touched my arm. “I know, honey, I know. I just have to say that, is all. As long as you follow the rules, darlin’, we won’t have a problem. Just remember always to be very careful never to embarrass the family. The second and most important rule is that whatever you do or see, you keep it locked up tight. What happens in the Roberts house, stays here. Understand?”

  Yup.

  I got it.

  I lived by a very similar rule at home: do whatever you want, but don’t draw heat. It just went to show that whether a person lived in a condemned house with no running water or a mansion with its own personal waitstaff, humans were, at their core, the same. Lifting my hands in surrender, I assured her, “I understand. And, honestly, the wildest thing I do is rack up late fines at the public library, and that’s when I’m not doing homework. I have a four-point-two GPA and a bone-deep love of food, dogs, and books. You’re not going to get any trouble from me.”

  “And a high GPA,” she waggled her finger, “I knew it was you. You are just a breath of fresh air. Here, come with me to meet Mr. Roberts. I’m going to change your whole life.” She rushed toward the hallway, her high heels tapping over the marble in a quick staccato beat. Holding her tumblers up in both hands, she strode to a wide wooden door, bumped her hip against the handle, and kicked it open. “George, I found the person I was telling you about, and you just have to hear my brilliant idea.”

  No part of me wanted to follow the woman in, but, as she was Nana’s employer, I felt obligated to be polite.

  From what I could see through the doorway, it was another spacious room with cream-colored walls interrupted with long, brown pillars. A massive dark-wood desk stretched nearly across the room, and Mr. Roberts sat in a large leather chair behind it, leaning over a laptop. He stared through thin-rimmed glasses at the screen, his dark gaze moving back and forth. An empty tumbler sat at his elbow beside a nearly drained bottle of scotch. He was a barrel-chested man of probably middle age, though he had more muscle than fat. Gray hair showed around the side of the ear I could see, and a few light wrinkles creased his forehead, but otherwise he looked young. His expensive suit jacket hung over the back of his chair, and he’d rolled up his sleeves to his elbows.

  His gaze shot up, fixing on his wife, and he grinned like a man in love. Mr. Roberts closed his laptop and set his hands on the top. “Well, aren’t you a picture, Gina. Unfortunately, my dear, it’s not really the best time.”

  Mrs. Roberts gestured in a broad sweep toward me. “George, I brought you the new housekeeper Cleo’s daughter.” Through an exasperated smile, she added, “Would it kill you to take a darn interest in the staff for a minute?”

  “You’re right. You’re right, and I’m sorry.” Mr. Roberts pulled down his sleeves slowly and pushed metal clips through the button holes at his wrists before shouldering on his jacket. He stood, rolling his wide shoulders, and pivoted toward me standing in the doorway. A grin spread over his mouth as he crossed the distance and held out his hand. “I’m George Roberts. Nice to meet you, young lady.”

  Only allowing myself to hesitate a moment, I took his hand. His thick fingers wrapped around mine, and he shook my hand decisively.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Roberts. My name is January Moore.”

  “She’s the one I told you about, the one who was coming here. And, she’s exactly how I thought she would be. Isn’t she so genuine, so fresh; just a poor girl coming to live in a big fancy estate, don’t you just love her? Oh, and a Capricorn. Born on a Saturday as well.” She annunciated the last words, and Mr. Roberts froze mid-shake with my hand still clasped in his.

  It was only for a moment, and then he chuckled. “Oh, Gina, not with that blasted psychic bologna again.”

  “George.” Gina Roberts laid a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t January here make the perfect addition to our scholarship family. You might think it’s ridiculous, but I saw her coming, and in my heart, I know it’s right. We have to give her the Roberts Foundation Grant.”

  “Wait. What?” I asked as I leaned away from the pair. The smell of their combined perfume and cologne filled my senses, mingling with the scent of Mrs. Roberts’ vodka and the whole thing made my head spin.

  “The scholarship?” Mr. Roberts chuckled, but there was a little bit of an edge to it as he turned to his wife. “Do you have any idea how many competitors we’re going to have this year in the trials — students traveling from every corner of the nation. We can’t just hand out the scholarship because you ran away with an idea.”

  “It’s not a whim, Robert. I saw her coming, and January would be perfect. She is one pretty young lady, and her energy is just lovely. She’s going to be living with us anyway — straight A student. She’ll need a ride to school —”

  “This is about Justin, isn’t it? Damn it, Gina. These stunts are getting ridiculous. What he needs is to show up and get his butt in line,” Mr. Roberts boomed as he waved in an almost violent gesture. “This young lady you met five minutes ago isn’t going to be responsible for shaping up our son when we haven’t been able to do it in 17 years.”

  “Did I say she would be responsible for anyone but herself? No, darling,” she wrapped her hand around his cheek. “This is about what I know in my soul. This young lady is a good candidate, and it would be a shame if we gave the scholarship to some random child who probably doesn’t need the money anyway. This young lady came here right now for a reason, and that reason is so we can bring her into our lives and into Blackburn Academy.”

  This shit was getting really weird, but at the same time, my heart picked u
p its pace at the very idea. Blackburn Academy? Three U.S. Presidents had come from Blackburn Academy, not to mention several senators and hundreds of judges over the years.

  As if his wife’s hand was laced with some sort of anti-anxiety drug, Mr. Roberts’ fuming expression subsided into one that looked more speculative. “She’s a person, Gina. Not some project of yours that holds your interest for about 10 minutes.”

  Gina went to her tiptoes and kissed her husband’s cheek. “Now you’re just being mean.”

  “You’re not going to manipulate me into this with kisses, either,” Mr. Roberts growled, but he was doing it with a smile.

  She slapped his chest playfully. “Guilty as charged, baby.”

  I inched back toward the door, really feeling like I was intruding. This was a lot to process and not least because, whether or not she denied it, it sounded like Gina wanted to use me to get Justin back in line.

  Well, the joke was on Gina, anyhow.

  I was the last person on this green earth that could get good old Justin back in line.

  Before I could slip out, Mr. Roberts gave a long sigh. “Have you even prepared for the entrance trials in nine days, sweetheart, or is this all some whim Gina had on her fifth martini?”

  “She’s a straight A student, top of her class. She’ll skate through the entrance trials. They’re not that hard.” Gina smiled back at me, giving me a conspiratorial wink before staggering a little and catching her balance on the desk. “We’re already providing her room and board. She’ll pass the trials, and as long as she passes, we can hand the scholarship to anyone we want.”

  “We could …” he muttered, sounding far from convinced, “but favoritism is frowned upon by the Hawthorn Group. It might cause a scandal.”

  Gina slashed her hand through the air. “My brother does it every single year, and I was born a Holter, if you remember. We can get away with it once in a while.”

  Mr. Roberts continued to inspect me, and his face scrunched up in thought. “Did Gina even ask you if that’s what you want?”

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, George.” Gina swigged down the rest of her martini. “Why wouldn’t she want a full-ride scholarship to one of the best private schools in the world? She’s a poor Cinderella girl. What kind of prospects is she going to have as the daughter of a housekeeper and going to public school?”

  My jaw dropped, and I honestly could not think of any polite response, so I snapped my mouth closed.

  George Roberts hummed. “Going to Blackburn is a lifetime commitment of loyalty, as you well know, Gina.” He spoke to her but continued to fix me with his gaze. “It’s not a decision to take lightly. The school is an excellent stepping stone to the university of your choice. And that’s not a throwaway statement, every single one of our former scholarship recipients has received a full-ride scholarship to one of the top fifty universities in the country. But you’ll be entering a community and pledging your loyalty and fidelity to that community for the remainder of your life. You’ll learn secrets there that you will need to take to the grave. Is that something you’d be prepared to commit to?”

  “I don’t know that much about Blackburn Academy. I’d have to learn more, and think a lot about it,” I said as I backed toward the door.

  “That . . .” He pointed at me, “That, young lady, is the right answer. We’d also need to see your birth certificate before we even think about considering you.”

  “I will call Cleo — right now. I actually would really like to know the exact time of your birth too. I’m going to make you a chart.” Mrs. Roberts drained her cocktail and threw it down on the desk.

  “If you guys are still considering me in the morning, I’d definitely be interested in hearing more about it. I’d have to discuss it with my grandmother, Chloe, before making any decision.”

  It would never have occurred to me in a thousand years that I might get the chance to go to Blackburn Academy, and my heart skipped a few beats at the thought. I lied when I said I knew little about Blackburn and its entrance trials. Every time someone even mentioned the exclusive school, I’d listened in. But, for some reason, my mother’s hateful words were running through my mind: people will always screw you over if you give them a chance.

  No.

  Even a day as shitty as today couldn’t turn me into my mother. I wouldn’t let it.

  “Are you good at taking tests, sweetheart?” Gina asked. “It would just be a simple senior year entrance exam to show that you’re not behind in school.”

  “I took senior level classes last year,” I admitted. “But I would have to study for it and refresh.”

  “Well, it’s a little more than a simple exam. Justin could always tutor her — show that he was worth a damn for once,” George Roberts said on a chuckle. He raised his hand, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “The devil knows all he’s been doing this summer is making a mess and spending all of our money.”

  I tensed, wondering how I could diplomatically tell them that tutoring sessions with Justin would be a deal breaker for me. As sweet as the temptations of going to a top-tier private school and possibly being fast-tracked into an Ivy League scholarship would be, I wasn’t going to sit through a month of Justin’s personal brand of torture to get it.

  He’d push. I’d snap. My grandmother would lose her job. Game over.

  But, thankfully, Gina leaned in and whispered to her husband. “No. No. We have to let Justin have his summer. We don’t want him resenting the poor girl. He can be so difficult. Justin just wants to hang out with his friends and have fun, and that is what we’ll let him do.” Gina pulled her hand away from me to tap her husband’s arm. “What about that young man who got the scholarship three years ago . . .” Snapping her fingers, she said, “Walter.”

  “Lucas Baldwin.”

  “Exactly. He has to be moving into his senior year.”

  “On our scholarship,” Mr. Roberts said as he stepped away from his wife and headed back to his desk. “Lucas has shown to be a promising student. Well, January, sweetheart, I’m going to have to consider this and get back to you in the morning.” He landed in his chair with a sigh. “If I do decide to consider you seriously for the scholarship, I’ll get you a tutor and expect you to spend the rest of your summer studying for the entrance exam.”

  “Great, thanks.” I raised my hand. “And then I will get back to you with my answer because as honored as I am to be considered, I haven’t made up my mind either. I’m going to go help my grandmother move in our boxes now.”

  “All right, honey. And, be a dear, and take this to the bar.” Gina held out her empty martini glass. “If you wouldn’t mind bringing me by another one on your way out, I’m heading out to the east veranda.” The moment I took her glass, Gina breezed by me and out the door.

  “Just send the butler with her drink,” Mr. Roberts said with a smile and a wink.

  I crossed the room and began to set the glass down on his desk. “Should I just leave this here then?”

  “No. No, dear, do not set that there. Take it to the bar. I simply meant that you didn’t need to take Gina her next drink.”

  Squeezing the tumbler, I turned to the door, happy for an excuse to leave the house and breathe fresh air.

  Before I made it out, Mr. Roberts called over, “January, sweetheart, I’ll send down my decision tomorrow.”

  Deciding just to drop it, I rewarded the guy with a wave and called out, “Thanks!”

  Chapter Seven

  I picked up a red plastic cup from a patch of grass and poured out old beer into a bucket half-filled with a vomit-inducing day-old booze concoction. Stacking the plastic container with several others, I peered over to my grandmother. She crouched on hands and knees, gathering the trash from the patio. Behind her, cigarette butts, plasticware, and beer cans floated in the pool.

  Taking the stack of plastic cups, I added it to the trashcan and winced as my teeth seared with pain.

  Damn it.

  My grandmot
her froze while lifting two handfuls of trash. “Honey, you okay?”

  “Fine.” After running my tongue over my teeth to make sure they were blunt, I called over, “Nana, you should probably just head up to the house. You’re going to destroy your uniform, and they might think you’re late if you’re here cleaning.”

  “Baby, this is not your job. This is my job.” She didn’t look up at me as she said it, but I could hear the steel in her voice even if I couldn’t see her expression. She looked neat and professional in her freshly pressed uniform. This whole scene just felt so wrong. I didn’t have a problem with my grandmother cleaning houses; she’d been doing it my entire life. But my grandmother didn’t deserve to pick cigarette butts and half-smoked joints out of the grass. She didn’t deserve to scrub lines of coke off the glass lawn tables. This was a mess I really felt that we should leave for Justin Roberts.

  On that, Nana didn’t agree, and so we had spent the entire morning picking up after the party that kept us from sleep until dawn. The worst part, by far, was the sex someone was having somewhere very close to our house at about five in the morning. Officially, nothing is more awkward than listening to a woman moaning and screaming out pleas for more and knowing that your grandmother is lying 20 feet away hearing the same thing. Between sleep deprivation and not drinking blood for six days now, my head pounded and my teeth ached near constantly.

  “Nana.” I crouched beside her and held out my hands to grab another handful of debris. “Just for today, let me finish cleaning here so you can go up to that house and start work on time.”

  Sighing, she dumped her cigarette butts into my latex-gloved hands. “Just for today.” She stood and peeled the elastic off her hands before throwing her gloves into the trash. “After you’re done cleaning this up though, you go up to your room and do something you enjoy. I don’t care what it is, whether it’s painting the walls or reading, just make sure you take some time for you.”