by R. A. Smyth
Seeing the glass is empty, Thomas unscrews the lid on a bottle of whiskey sitting on the island, pouring a generous amount into my father’s glass.
“I’m sure it’s not easy, Sir. It will take some time, but Sophie will adjust.” Thomas reassures my father.
My ears perk up at the use of my name, suddenly realising they are talking about me.
My father shakes his head at Thomas’s assurance, not wanting to believe his words.
“I have no idea what I am doing. She’s been away at boarding school for years now. I usually only see her on holidays. I’m not used to handling a teenager on a daily basis, never mind one who has been through what Sophie has.”
My eyebrows draw together in confusion. Boarding school? That’s what he’s been telling people!
“She spends a lot of time in her room, only leaving it to come and get dinner,” Thomas tells my father, “but most teenagers are anti-social and lock themselves away when they are at home. This has been a huge adjustment for her, not only a new home, but a new school, new friends, as well. Give her some time to get used to her new life, I’m sure she will come around.”
“You’re right Thomas, we are both trying to adapt to a world without Grace. We miss her terribly.” My father says, rubbing at his eyes as he sniffs. He actually fucking sniffles. He looks as if he’s about to start bawling his eyes out any minute now.
I couldn’t stop my eye-roll at his dramatics if I tried.
If I hadn’t witnessed my father’s wrath only a few hours earlier, I would have believed this Oscar worthy performance, but I’ve seen the real Robert Montgomery, and this farce is not him.
This is an act, a charade, to wrangle his way into Thomas’s good graces, and Thomas is eating it up like it’s a melting ice-cream cone on a roasting hot afternoon.
Not wanting to get caught, and no longer having an appetite, I quietly make my way back up the stairs to my bedroom. My heart only stops pounding once I’ve closed and locked the door behind me.
What the hell is Robert up to? Sucking up to Thomas and lying to the rest of the town about our past. None of it makes any sense.
Chapter 8
School continues in a similar fashion for the rest of the week. I am ignored by the entire student body, except for the one-percenters, who continue to harass me whenever they can, sticking tampons and condoms in my locker, constantly moving my chair and desk in class, knocking my lunch tray out of my hands, and other stupid petty shit that just pisses me off. And everywhere I look, Preston or Barrett are there, giving me death glares.
By the time Friday afternoon rolls around, I’m annoyed as all hell and completely exhausted. I’m ready for a weekend of holing myself up in my room, reading a book, watching trashy television, and not having to talk to another living soul. I’m going to need every spare minute to gain some control over this anger and prepare myself for it to start all over again on Monday morning.
On the plus side – and it really is a small silver lining – my burn didn’t get infected and is starting to heal up nicely.
It’s the last class of the day and I am counting down the final minutes until my weekend of freedom begins when a female voice comes over the speaker system, “Can Sophie Montgomery please make her way to the Headmaster's office, immediately.”
Ugh, this can’t be good. What the hell could I possibly have done now?
I quickly pack up everything on my desk back into my bag and hurry from the room before I can get into any more trouble with the teacher for disrupting the class further.
I’m making my way down the hallway, taking my time and enjoying the peace and quiet since all of the other students are still in class, when, out of nowhere, someone sneaks up behind me and shoves a bag over my head. What the hell?
Someone else tries to grab my hands, but I wriggle free of them and drive my elbow back, nailing the asshole behind me in the chest and hearing that satisfying grunt as air leaves his lungs.
You don’t grow up where I did and not learn basic defence moves.
Unfortunately, the guy behind me recovers quickly and rushes in behind me, wrapping his arms around me and effectively pinning my arms to my sides before I can lash out at whoever is in front of me.
Before I know it, someone is grabbing my hands, roughly tightening a cord around them both, tying them together. What the hell, is that a fucking zip tie?!
Opening my mouth to start yelling – this is getting out of hand now and I’m seriously starting to panic – someone throws their hand over my mouth, cutting off my cry for help.
They start to drag me through the school, one dickhead pulling on my restraints to encourage me to move. The other asshole ensures one hand stays securely over my mouth and their other hand remains wrapped tightly around my waist, more or less carrying me down the hall. All the while I’m wiggling and squirming like a fucking worm to get away from them. I have no idea what is going on but I know it can’t be good.
A light breeze blows against my bare legs as we exit the main school building and stumble down a few steps before making our way across some sort of gravel area. I’ve completely lost my bearings and I don’t know the layout of the campus well enough, so I can’t work out where in the school grounds we are.
We aren’t outside for long before we stop and I hear a lock being undone and a heavy-sounding door being yanked open, squeaking on its rusty hinges. The next thing I know, I’m shoved roughly from behind and I fly forward, falling onto a hard cement floor and groaning out in pain as my shoulder and knees slam into the ground.
Just before the door closes, fucking Preston calls out, “Hope you aren’t afraid of the dark, Princess,” before he slams the door shut and the click of the lock engaging rings out in the silence of the room.
Fucking Preston and Barrett. I should have known this was them. Pair of bloody shitbags with a fucking death wish.
I quickly pull the hood from my head so I can see where I am. Initially, all I can see is darkness, but, after a few blinks, my eyes start to adjust and I can make out storage boxes and some old gym equipment. I must be in some sort of outbuilding where they store whatever school materials they no longer have any use for.
Moving carefully, I slowly feel my way across the floor until I find what I am looking for. Ah-ha. There is a rusty nail sticking out of the side of a wooden crate not far from where I fell. I start rubbing my zip ties against the nail until they finally snap. Damn, that took a lot more time and effort than it does in the movies.
With my hands finally free, I head back to the door and start banging against it. Nothing. The door doesn’t budge and of course, no one responds to my shouts. While I was trying to break my binds, I heard the school bell ringing in the distance, announcing the end of the day and, being a Friday, everyone has probably left school ASAP, wanting to get a kick start on their weekend.
Realising I’m not getting out of here until one of these jerkoffs lets me out, I rifle round in the dark storage space until I find a halfway comfortable crate which I push against the wall and make myself at home while I wait for them to return. Thank fuck I’m not afraid of the dark. Nope. You get over that fear real quick as a kid, when your electricity keeps getting cut off because the bill wasn’t paid in time. Even on the nights we did have working lights, we couldn’t afford to waste it by keeping a light on all night.
I feel like I’ve been sitting there for hours, stewing in my anger and hatred for these boys and the rest of the sheep in this godforsaken school. My ass is numb by the time I hear the click of the door unlocking across the room, but the minute I register what it is, I’m up from the crate and across the room in a flash. Flying through the door, I am immediately blinded by the bright afternoon sunlight as I stumble out onto the grass.
As soon as my eyes have once again adjusted, I realise the boys must have carried me across the football field to a storage building far away from the main school building, on the outskirts of the school’s property, where the property line
meets the surrounding forest. There was no way anyone would have heard me screaming from this far away, and no one would have any reason to be over in this part of the grounds after school.
Turning around, I can’t find either of the jackasses anywhere which only serves to fuel my anger towards them. “I’m going to fucking kill you, assholes!” I yell out across the empty football pitch and up into the surrounding trees before storming off across the field, towards the car park, all the while cussing them out in my head.
Thankfully, my driver is still sitting in the car park, although God only knows why he sat and waited for me. Without a word I get into the back seat, fuming over letting those wankers get one up on me this afternoon. Their little devious plan might not have had its intended purpose of scaring me, but letting them get the jump on me makes me look weak and I can’t afford to look anything less than formidable in this accursed school.
Thomas greets me in the foyer when I get back. “Ah Miss there you are, I was beginning to worry.”
“Sorry Thomas. Got held up with a project at school.” I lie, not wanting to share what happened in case it gets back to my father.
“No worries Miss. Your father wanted to see you as soon as you got home.” He says, not realising his words have just turned my day from crappy to completely fucking shit. I still haven’t gotten over the mental trauma of Monday, so I am in no way prepared to face-off against my father again so soon.
“Thanks Thomas” I respond despondently, knowing I have no choice in the matter. Reigning in my apprehension and locking it down tight, I put on the ‘don’t mess with me’ face I wore with ease when I was working the bar or dealing with my mum’s strays when I was back home.
Feeling as prepared as I am ever going to, I head towards my father’s office, knocking on the door and waiting for him to tell me to come in.
“Sophie, have a seat.”
“I haven’t had any more phone calls from school, I assume you have learnt your lesson?”
Gritting my teeth, I grind out, “Yes, sir,” knowing there is no other response he wants to hear.
“Good. Have you managed to make many friends yet?”
“Eh, I’m working on it. I’ve been talking to a number of people this week.”
Nodding his head absently.
“The most important families in this town are the Donaghues, Belmonts, Chadwicks, Hawthornes, Williamsons and Ashby’s. I believe each of them has a child in your year at school.”
Already knowing that Preston is a Donaghue and Barrett a Belmont, I realise he is referring to the one-percenters.
If I remember correctly, Kurts surname is Chadwick, and the Barbies must be the other three names, not that I paid enough attention to remember their first names, never mind what families they belong to. Family names might mean everything in this society but they sure as shit mean nothing to me.
“They all come from old money families and their fathers are important people to impress,” my father continues, “Preston’s father is the Governor of California and runs a number of international businesses. Barrett’s father is the current Chief Justice and Mr. Williamson is director of the FBI. The others are all high up in government or own reputable businesses, meaning they are all very well-connected people; not anyone we want to get on the wrong side of.” My father impresses upon me, staring me down with his intense gaze.
“Of course, it is important to get to know as many people as possible in this town; you never know who can be a useful ally, but these six families are the most important ones.” He impresses upon me.
There’s no way I am going to tell him that every interaction I had with each member of the one-percenters was hostile and that there wasn’t a chance in hell that I was ever going to be invited into their little group, not that I would even want to be a part of it.
Robert continues to glare at me until I nod my head in confirmation that I have heard what he said. “Of course, Father. May I ask what sort of business it is that you are involved in?” I enquire in my sweetest voice, keeping my face as innocent-looking as possible in the hopes of garnering some information from him, “So I can ascertain which students would be the best to cosy up to,” I justify.
Giving me a hard look, “I have many diverse interests. Pharmaceuticals, private security, and high-end hospitality and entertainment venues to name a few. I’m looking to branch into a new market though, one that some of the people in this town are integral to the success of,” he responds before focusing his attention back on the documents on his desk in a less than subtle hint that this conversation is over and I am dismissed.
Ignoring his dismissal and trying to look as though I don’t understand what he is talking about, noting that he was incredibly vague about his involvement in each of these industries, I continue to push him.
“What new market is it you are trying to branch into, that requires such heavy involvement from high ranking law officials?” I ask, trying to come across like a naïve, confused girl who can’t wrap her head around such complicated business concepts.
Damn, I must need to work on my dumb blonde look as Robert suddenly snaps his attention back to me, clenching his pen tightly in his hand, causing his knuckles to whiten.
“That is none of your concern,” he barks out, “Focus on what you have to do, getting to know as many people as you can, and keep your nose out of my business. Now, I have work to do.” He finishes, this time maintaining eye contact with me until I’m out of the room.
Great. Not only do the one-percenters hate me, but now I have to pretend to my father to be friendly with them. Having had enough of this day I leave his office and head straight to my bedroom, having no intention of leaving it until I have to go back to school again on Monday.
Mulling everything over while I stand in the shower, letting it soak through to my muscles and take away the tension caused by this day, I try to work out what I am going to do.
On one hand, my father wants me to get to know the one-percenters, and if I did as he asked, I might gain more insight into what he’s up to.
On the other hand, the one-percenters hate me, or well Preston and Barrett hate me, because of whatever it is my father is up to.
So, I’m basically piggy in the middle with no way out. Excellent. Resting my head against the shower wall, letting the water run over my back and drowning out any noise from the outside world, I decide to forget about all of it for the rest of the night. There’s nothing I can do right now except see where things go.
Once I’m out of the shower and in my sweats, I go in search of Thomas. I am in desperate need of takeaway food tonight.
I find him in the kitchen, finishing up his dinner alongside Oliver, my driver - yes I did finally learn his name, and no he did not tell me what it was; I had to ask Thomas.
“Miss, can I do anything for you?” He asks, jumping up from his seat when I enter.
“Eh, sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I was just wondering how I go about ordering a takeaway in this town?”
Ever my saviour, he pulls out a bunch of menus, from one of the kitchen drawers, for me to flick through. “Just let me know what you want and I will phone the order through for you, Miss,” he replies, relaxing back in his seat and finishing his dinner.
Rifling through my choices, I notice there are menus for literally every type of cuisine one could ever need. As a woman with simple tastes, I settle for a pepperoni pizza, informing Thomas of my choice before heading back to my bedroom.
While I wait for my food to come, I set up Netflix, ready to binge-watch some new series. I hear ‘Sunset Selling’ is worth watching and is based around rich people and their huge mansions, perhaps it can give me some insight into the inner mental workings of the rich. Currently I cannot understand them at all.
Soon the pizza arrives and I finally start to feel the tension from the week ease from my shoulders, as I make my way through several episodes of ‘Sunset Selling’. I can’t say it's given me any insight into
rich people, but damn the houses these people can afford are insane. I can’t even comprehend how these people need so much space, and the way they just drop hundreds of thousands of dollars without a second thought is mind boggling.
Having overeaten, and exhausted from my first week of school, I only make it through two more episodes of the show before I fall into a food coma.
I’m woken several hours later by noises downstairs. Looking at my bedside clock I realise it's half one. I’ve noticed every other night that the house is eerily silent, with Thomas likely having retired to his room and my father doing God knows what, but, tonight, I hear a myriad of voices and laughter. It’s possible my father has guests round. No one said he was entertaining people tonight, but then I don’t know if anyone would tell me if he was.
Climbing out of bed, I slip my feet into some slippers and sneak to the top of the stairs, crouching down to hide behind the banister so I can still see the foyer below me, but it should hopefully be difficult for anyone to make out my frame amongst the shadows, should they look up in this direction.
Looking down into the entrance hall below, I can see a group of men laughing and talking to one another as they head towards the front door. The only light downstairs is that streaming in through the open door from the outside lights, so I can't make out many details, and the cacophony of voices makes it hard to understand what anyone is saying.
From what I can see, these men aren’t the typical businessmen I would have imagined my father doing business with. Instead of well-pressed suits and shiny shoes, the men wear loose jeans and leather jackets, the appearance making them look rough. Several of them are sporting long unkempt beards and greasy hair. Gross. If these aren’t businessmen then who are they? And what do they have to do with my father?
One-by-one, the men filter out through the front door and I hear engines being turned on and cars starting to drive away. With fewer people in the foyer now, I catch the end of what the last few stranglers are saying.
" - Can’t wait to see what the boss man's cooking up," one of them says