by Rachel Jonas
“Having a nice fucking day, Golden?”
His voice is clipped and the look in his eyes is some version of I-should-kill-your-ass-dead-where-you-stand. I recognize it, because it’s the same one I gave Austin today at lunch when he thought it’d be a good idea to move in on Southside.
“Fuck do you want?”
“What I want is for your bitch ass to bleed out on this sidewalk for that shit you pulled.” He takes a few steps closer, maybe expecting me to back down, but I back down for no one.
My fists tighten at my sides and I don’t blink.
“Know why I hate the rich dicks in this city? Because everything’s expendable to you assholes. Money, houses, cars, people,” he adds. “But that’s where you fucked up.” He smiles, but it’s rage-fueled.
Fucking lunatic.
“You saw Blue and thought she was an easy target,” he reasons. “You thought she was just some poor chick from the south side who didn’t have anybody. Thing is, you weren’t banking on me being in the fucking picture. But I promise you, I’m all she needs to put some punk-ass rich boy like you in his place.”
He looks me up and down, like he thinks he could take me easy, but he has no idea how bad I’m itching for this. In fact, I’ve been waiting for this chance since the first time I saw him with Southside. Since the first time I saw how he looks at her. Since I realized something I’m not even sure she knows.
He’s still in love with her.
“If there’s one thing you should know about me, Golden, it’s that I don’t take too kindly to people messing with my family.”
“And I don’t take too kindly to people getting in my face talking shit. So, looks to me like we both have a problem.”
Nodding, he smiles a bit. “Don’t let that cash in your bank account have you thinking you’re invincible. You think your daddy’s tough shit?” He pauses, shakes his head. “Nah … the only motherfucker in Cypress Pointe you ever need to worry about is me.”
Unshed rage I’ve carried all weekend rises again, but it’s not even all for him. I’m pissed that I let things get this far. Pissed that ninety-five percent of what this asshole just said is true.
Still, I want him to bleed, but not for rational reasons.
I want it because I know Southside isn’t out of his reach right now, like she’s out of mine. I want it because I know he’s fucked her before. I want it because showing up here today is gonna make him look like a damn hero to her, and me the villain.
Again.
It’s cold enough to see our breath in the wind, but I’m burning up, ready to explode. His eyes narrow and I know he sees he hasn’t talked me down, hasn’t scared the fight out of me. If anything, he’s lit a whole new fire, given me an option for letting off some steam.
He steps up again and we lock eyes, his anger matching mine. Tension in my jaw has me gritting my teeth, ready to fire off despite still being on school grounds, despite Coach’s warning.
“You got something else you wanna say Golden? ‘Cause I’d love to hear it,” Ricky adds, taunting me.
“Nope, but just know; if I ever run up on you in your hood, it’ll be to do more than deliver a fucking speech,” I say through gritted teeth.
My words draw a humorless laugh from him. “I hear you,” he says, nodding his head.
He takes a few steps away, but I keep my eyes trained on him. I can spot a loose cannon from a mile away and he definitely fits the bill. But still, even watching him like a hawk, I miss my chance to duck when he comes at me with a quick right-hook. I counter the blow before the stinging in my lip even starts, slamming my fist into the side of his face with the same fury. He doesn’t even stumble, instead cocking back a second time as I’m recovering from the swing. He connects again and the taste of blood isn’t as easy to ignore this time, but adrenaline has me numb.
We exchange blows, one after the other. He’s quick and he’s got one hell of a nasty jab, but speed means nothing if your feet aren’t planted firmly.
I manage to put just enough space between us to tackle him, grappling with him a few seconds before taking him down to the cold, stiff grass. I thought I’d pin him easy, but not even close. What he lacks in footing he more than makes up for in strength. By the time I finally draw my fist, I’m yanked back. Dane positions himself in front of me, creating a barrier between me and Ricky, who’s back on his feet freakishly fast.
“Take your fucking hands off me!” My rage isn’t focused anymore. Instead, it’s spewing from me like a geyser.
“And let you piss away what’s left of your reputation? Not happening,” Sterling answers with strained words, tightening the bearhug he’s holding me in.
Dane’s got eyes on Ricky when he asks, “We good here?”
“Fuck you,” Ricky snaps, swiping a trickle of blood from his lip. “We won’t be ‘good here’ until your bitch-ass brother pays for that shit he pulled.”
Dane manages to keep his cool, but even he has his limits. Seeing his breathing deepen as he stands before me, I know those limits are being tested.
“Walk away now and we can pretend this never happened.” He glances back, assessing my face before doing the same to Ricky. “Looks like you both whooped on each other pretty good, so I’d say that’s fair.”
“Is it fair that a little girl got jumped so bad she had to hide in a bathroom today? All because your brother thought it’d be funny to post that fucking video?” A bright red streak flies from his mouth when he spits blood into the grass.
I’m only confused for a second about what he just said, because my next thought is of that frantic call Southside got during lunch. The one that accounted for her rushing off to Scarlett’s rescue.
Damn…
All the fight is suddenly drained out of me, hearing yet another layer of damage I’ve caused. I only officially met the kid once, but she kind of grew on me. Partly because I’m fascinated with the dynamic between her and Southside.
“Who jumped her?”
“Does it matter?” Ricky snaps, swiping the keys to his bike from where they landed in the grass while we went at it. “Point is, that shit’s on you, dickhead.”
I don’t disagree with him. Not at all, but I do need to know more. Seeing as how I’ll never get a word of this out of Southside.
“I’m trying to fix it,” I admit, knowing the words could make me look weak in this moment. The rush of testosterone still surging through me after the fight keeps the hard edges of my voice intact, but I’m not even interested in rushing him again. Sterling doesn’t seem to be buying it, though, seeing as how he still has me in a death grip.
Ricky meets my gaze and I feel the same measure of hatred I got from Southside earlier, which is saying a whole fucking lot. It also leans into my theory that whatever he felt for her in the past is far from over.
“You’re trying to fix it,” he mostly says to himself, glancing down at the ground as he turns to walk away. “Don’t bother, man. I’ll look after Blue, like I always do.”
I bite my lip where it aches to hide how much I hate that shit, the idea of him being anywhere near her.
“Just go back to Daddy’s palace and swim in your pool of gold coins or whatever the hell you do all day,” he adds. “Last thing anyone in the Riley family needs is another Golden with his damn hands around their throat.”
There’s a sudden heaviness in my gut when he says that. Like a stone suddenly fell to the bottom of it.
“Wait. What’d you just say? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
The distance between him and us grows and he’s taking whatever info he has with him.
Sterling’s grip tightens again but it only makes me struggle against him harder. He doesn’t understand what’s fueling the sudden resurgence of strength and there’s no time to explain. Getting to Ricky has nothing to do with wanting to kick his ass. I need to know what he knows.
Because he definitely knows something.
“Let me go! I’m cool! I just—�
��
Shouting this only makes me seem even more unstable, so Dane turns to help when Sterling starts to lose his grasp. By the time I do finally get free, it’s too late. There’s no point running after Ricky now because he’s got his helmet on and his bike’s roaring out of the parking lot.
“Damn it!” I kick my bag a few feet and glance in the direction where my only chance at answers disappears.
That statement meant something. More than Ricky let on, and I know he’s the key to me understanding just what the hell is going on around here.
Does he know about the connection between my dad and Southside?
Or … is there something more?
Something I hadn’t even considered before now?
One thing’s for damn sure, my chances of figuring it out just rode off on a motorcycle, and odds are I won’t find him again until he wants to be found.
Just fucking perfect.
@QweenPandora: Whoa! Did anyone catch that fight? I won’t name names, because SOME of us have ourselves deep enough in hot water as it is, thanks to my last exposé.
#SorryNotSorry
But let’s just say two run-ins in one day, both with guys connected to the object of his obsession, makes a certain King look a little unstable, folks.
Could he be spiraling?
In regret? Jealousy? Or is it both?
If you ask me, someone’s having a hard time facing the music since losing his girl. But, according to the masses, these wounds are self-inflicted.
Right?
Unless, of course … that’s not entirely true.
We’ll have to stay tuned to see where the cookie crumbs lead. And you all know I’ll be the first to tell you more as soon as there’s more to tell ;)
Later, Peeps.
—P
Chapter 7
WEST
A bag of ice melts against my knuckles, per my mother’s request. While she’s concerned about bruising and swelling, I don’t give a fuck. My mind’s on the fight, on what Ricky said afterward.
The part about no one else in Blue’s family needing another Golden with his hands around their throat.
I’ve gone over it a million times, gone over what he could’ve meant, and I keep coming up empty. He can only be talking about Vin, but beyond that, I’m lost.
Since making it home a few hours ago, I’ve thought several times about driving up and down every street of South Cypress, looking for Ricky, asking around until I find someone who knows him. But not knowing his last name makes him a ghost. There’s also the fact that I’m pretty sure no one on that side of town would give up info on him even if they had it.
But damn … he knows something.
Much more than I do.
“All right, jackass. No more side-stepping. No more being dodgy and shit,” Dane asserts. “Sit your ass down and start talking, because neither one of us is leaving until you tell us what the hell is going on.”
These are the first words spoken as he and Sterling barge in and lock the door behind them, doing some kind of bad cop/bad cop routine. Both stand posted at the entrance of my bedroom, arms folded over their chests.
Mom tried the same thing after the doorman called ahead to tell her I was on my way up and had clearly been in a fight. Difference is, she’s not nearly as persistent as these two dicks. They’re done letting me get by without giving straight answers.
Which is why I know I won’t be able to wait them out like I’d done with her.
Neither wavers as they stare me down. In fact, the longer I make them wait, they glare harder.
All my life, I’ve shielded them from certain realities. Not because they can’t handle shit, but because why the fuck would I put Vin’s BS in their heads? Given the option, I wouldn’t even want to know what I know. Seemed unfair to dump it on them, too.
But if I’m being honest, I’m tired. Tired of being the sole keeper of my father’s secrets. Tired of trying to figure things out on my own. Tired of being the only bad guy when I definitely don’t hold that title alone.
When I drop down onto the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, I realize I’m done holding it all in. Right or wrong, I’m ready to spill everything I know to the two people I trust most. Ricky’s comment—and the questions it has me asking myself—might be the reason I’m suddenly over it.
“The first time I realized Dad’s a world-class asshole, I was eight,” I confess. “Sneaking into his truck to surprise him on his birthday gave me a ringside seat to him getting head from some random bitch who works for him.”
There’s a weight that lifts off me the second the words leave my mouth, but in no time, it’s replaced with guilt. For having just shifted that burden to my brothers’ shoulders.
“He told me to stop crying and to man up when he realized what I saw. Then, he told me I’d break Mom’s heart if I opened my mouth about it,” I add. “After that, there were clues here and there—a condom wrapper underneath the backseat, sick fucking phone conversations I’ve overheard. But, more recently, there was a picture.”
Instead of explaining, I go for my phone and scroll through the gallery. Dane and Sterling hesitate to leave their post at the door, but eventually step closer. When I lift the screen, showing them the image I found in the safe months ago—covering her tits with my thumb, of course—they both look as confused as I did first laying eyes on it.
“Southside?” Dane questions.
“You think she and Dad are…” Sterling’s voice trails off before finishing his thought.
“Found it on a phone in his safe. The day I stole his credit card,” I explain, lowering my own phone back to the pocket of my sweats.
“This is why you went after her,” Dane finally understands.
“It is,” I admit, “but a lot’s gone down since then.”
Including my stupid ass falling for this girl, without any clear resolution at that.
I sigh, remembering how sure I was about everything back then. How positive I was that she deserved everything I did to her. It was all so black and white.
“That why you freaked out with what her ex said today? You think he knows how Vin and Southside are connected?” Dane asks next.
I shrug. “Honestly, I don’t know what to think anymore.”
Which is true. There’s so much more to tell them, but I don’t even know where to start, or what’s true and what’s a lie.
“Before regionals, when Vin came down to talk, it was about the pics of me and Southside in the pool. He insisted that I stay away from her, admitted they were a thing, then claimed she was only using me to hurt him because he broke things off.”
“He admitted it?” Sterling asks, prompting me to nod. “And you’re sure it’s not bullshit?”
My eyes fall shut and, just like that, I’m back at that night, back in that hotel room. Staring into Southside’s eyes, I could’ve sworn whatever she felt was real. Could’ve sworn it had nothing to do with revenge and had everything to do with her and me.
But then, there were Vin’s words.
“At the time I couldn’t see him copping to something like that if it weren’t true, but … now I’m wondering if I got it wrong.”
My head spins, knowing I have only a few pieces of the puzzle. Knowing I don’t even know where those pieces fit.
“If you were wrong,” Sterling reasons, “that means whatever he’s actually covering up is somehow worse than letting his son think he’d screw a high school girl.”
An affair made so much sense. I mean, this is Vin we’re talking about. Cheating comes as naturally to him as breathing. Not to mention, Southside fits his type to a tee. And he sure as shit doesn’t want me connected to her, but now nothing I know adds up.
Nothing.
When I lean forward and grip my head, my brothers are silent. They have no idea how it feels to question whether I could’ve fucked this all up because of another of our father’s mind games.
“Don’t spiral.” Dane’s words are stern,
spoken at the precise moment I need to hear them.
“Let’s backtrack to the video,” Sterling cuts in. “Is there a connection? Did you leak it to get revenge because of what Vin told you?”
My stomach’s in knots now.
“No,” I sigh. “It wasn’t me. Parker’s the only bitch twisted enough to do shit like that.”
I’m not looking up at either of their faces, but I imagine the looks they’re giving me right now.
“Fucking knew it,” Sterling seethes.
“And why haven’t we ratted this bitch out already?” Dane wants to know.
“Because it’s not that simple.”
I feel those judgmental stares on me again after I speak.
“Why the fuck not? She screwed you over, now we rain down hell on her head. Sounds pretty fucking simple to me,” Dane reasons. He’s worked up like it’s his name on the line. Not mine.
“I can’t snitch because she knows,” I respond, already sounding defeated.
“Knows what?”
I peer up just as Sterling asks. And with what I say next, he shoots me a knowing stare.
“About Casey. From Casey,” I clarify before they can ask who the hell would tell Parker Holiday any-fucking-thing.
Their immediate response? Silence. Then, both take a seat to think—one in the armchair near the window, the other on the floor with his back to the wall.
“Damn,” Sterling sighs, finally getting it.
“If I tell what she did with the video, she’s telling everyone what she knows about me and Casey. Starting with Casey’s father.”
Both understand why that, in particular, would suck for me.
“Damn,” Sterling repeats.
We sit there for a while, not saying a word as they take in the full scope of the whole fucked up situation.
Dane shifts in the chair and he has me and Sterling’s full attention.
“You weren’t the only one who found out early who and what Vin really is. I was ten,” he admits. “It was when he hired that babysitter to look after us while Mom went home to The Bayou for a week.”