by L. J. Woods
Fuck.
“I’m a lost cause, Ray, but you?” August leans back in his chair with a whistle, tipping back. “You're a shoo-in for uppity upperclassmen. You know, since you’re too good for this life and all.” He gestures to the ZIP code above his eyebrow.
I flip him the bird again but my dad catches my finger, rolling it down. “You will come with me to check it out next week. I’ll be picking up some details on the roster and the keys to our housing.”
Housing?
Picking up one of the pamphlets with pristine stone sidewalks and giant buildings, it’s hard not to gag. “Dad, we can’t move back there.” It’s a long way from gunshots and sketchy sidewalks but I’d take Shady Shores over Eden Gardens any day.
I’m not part of their world anymore.
Dad pushes from the table and he doesn’t have to say it for me to know this conversation is over. Grabbing another beer from the fridge, he heads for the door.
“Right?” I call to him, not one to beg for an answer but my thudding heart tells me going back to Eden will be my demise.
Our demise.
“We will, Ray. I am your father and you will do as I say.” He unlocks the door, swinging it open. “Start packing.”
Two
Rayne
ERU isn’t a school.
It’s a motherfucking castle.
Dad mans the wheel in his old burgundy Camry as we pull through the school’s ivy-covered gates. In typical Eden fashion, it's way over the top.
It’s as if they modelled it off Cambridge or some shit. Tall columns and giant wooden doors. Stone and intricate statues. It even has a clock tower. Menacing and majestic at the same time. It’s all made to look old but the stone, bricks, and shiny golden hawks by the gate all look younger than my nineteen years.
“This will be worth it.” Dad lowers the volume on the radio. Hockey highlights. “Take this fresh start and flourish from it. Do not let me down. There's no room for failure here.”
No fucking pressure. Sinking in my seat, I cross my arms.
We pull up to a guy in an orange vest. He’s sitting inside a stone booth that looks like it’s made for royalty. He eyes us up before he calls us through and even he knows we don’t belong here anymore.
Lowering the window, I’m smacked with the fresh smell of grass and lavender as Dad gives the guy our info. He ushers us along before we roll through campus and Eden Gardens is as lavish and ornate as I remember. Smooth roads. Manicured lawns. Parking lots with glossy expensive cars.
It all makes me sick.
“Do I need a tiara to come here?” I ask with a groan. Too bad August is following the moving truck on his motorcycle. He’d share my sentiments. “A trust fund? A black card?” Looking around us, there’s a buzz on campus. School starts in a few days so I’m not surprised. While I’m in cut-off denim shorts, a tank, and my boots, the people around us look like they’re dressed for brunch. Fancy brands and expensive outfits. Sparkly jewelry and designer bags. Armani. Gucci. Dior. My stomach churns at the nostalgia. “'Cause we don't have that stuff anymore."
Not that I want them.
“You’re a Rose.” My dad puts the car in park in front of a big building with the sign ‘Rink’ in gold. “It might not mean anything to them anymore but it means something to me. Hold your head high and act like it."
Sure, I was royalty back in Shady Shores thanks to August and his crew. Here? That’s a whole other story.
Dad steps out of the car. "I won’t be long.”
He takes the keys, leaving me in the quiet, stuffy car on my own. It’s that weird time between summer and fall on the east coast, where some days are hot and others chilly. Today is warm, so this car with no air conditioning is about to get super uncomfortable, super fast.
Getting out, I tie my plaid shirt around my waist, grabbing the cigarette I’ve been craving for hours out of its box. The sun hits the tattoos on my bronze arms as I gaze out at the lot. I try to count up how much August could get for these cars. Rovers, Benzes and Bentleys. A Ferrari sits a few spots away but there’s a car at the far end that has my attention as I light up.
An Aston Martin One77.
It's as special as it sounds. One of seventy-seven.
It’s painted a glossy cherry red that makes it look delicious. Like candy. Tinted windows. Custom rims. Sleek spoiler. Taking a step forward so I can get a better look, I laugh, cigarette hanging off my lips.
There was a time where this shit was normal. Now? It’s a payday.
With my phone pointed in its direction, I’m about to take a snapshot before a deep voice comes from my right. It’s smooth and crisp as he rattles something off in Spanish. A hint of a sexy croak. Turning around, I meet his shimmering gaze as he slows his walk.
Okay, not really, but imagining this guy in slow-mo is worth it.
His thick brown hair bounces with his strides, phone to his ear, a jersey thrown over his broad, muscular shoulder. Those aren’t the only muscles he has. Like he’s at the beach, he’s topless and I can make out every motherfucking ripple on his perfect abs. The smell of fresh cotton and spice takes over before I realize he’s in front of me and it’s suddenly hard to swallow.
Those thick lips upturn. The sunlight shining behind him highlights his face like he’s the second coming of Christ. He’s taller than I am, and these boots don’t help to reach his height but when I tip my head, those sparkling greens damn near take my breath away.
“Like it?” he asks, his voice sending a jolt to my core.
My brows furrow, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I guess the guys here are even more forward than back home.
“My ride.” He tilts his chin over to the car I was eyeing, clarifying his words. “Got it this year. A gift for coming back to this fucked up place.” He looks around before his eyes narrow right into mine, like he’s calculating something. “You new here?”
“Maybe.” His eyes follow my tattoos as I suck harder on my cigarette, "Power" tatted on the inside of my wrist.
“You look familiar.” He cocks a thick brow, but I’m thinking the same thing.
Those striking eyes wander my frame, darting around my body and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t checking him out too. His smooth olive skin could use some tattoos but that chiselled, square face is damn near perfection. A finger comes to the hem of my shorts, grazing my thigh. A tingle erupts on my skin before I take a step back.
He takes a step forward. “You look like a girl from The Grove.”
To these people, that’s an insult. “And you look like a guy that hasn’t worked a day in his life.” I know better than to say where I’m from. Or who I am. But something tells me he can already smell the poor from here.
“Oh, I definitely know how to work.” He grins.
With a roll of my eyes, I let him know I’m not one of these bimbos he’s used to. “I’m from out of town. Dad’s crazy enough to take a job here.” His eyes drop to my boots before they dart over my tank, settling on my tits. They’re not the biggest but they get their attention. I cross my arms. “If you wanna peep a pair of tits, you're better off going on ForeverFans.”
“You must not know what I like, New Girl.” He rakes his gaze back up to my eyes and staring into his makes the sun feel ten times hotter.
As mouthwatering as this guy is, he reeks of entitlement and nepotism. The leather duffel. Expensive haircut. Hockey gear that cost him thousands and a supercar that we can only hope to steal.
It helps me find my voice. My real voice. “Thanks for the eye candy but I’ll pass.” Time to shut this thing down before I get carried away. Sure, my dad can get me into a prestigious school but it doesn’t make me one of them.
“For now” He winks a wink that says he doesn’t believe me. One that sends a flutter between my legs. His bare shoulders brush mine as he passes by and I ignore the burn it brings to my skin.
Leaning on my dad’s car, I shrug to prove my point before putting my cigarette in my othe
r hand. It hides the letters R-O-S-E on my left knuckles.
He watches as I bring my cigarette between my lips, but I’m not interested. I’m not about to be a rich boy’s escape. A fun story.
That doesn’t mean I can’t watch that ass of steel walk away.
He must feel my eyes because when he gets to his car, he looks over his shoulder with a sparkle in his eye. “See you around, New Girl.”
As he climbs into his ride, a guy with coils and a purple blazer appears on the other side with a loud laugh. I can’t hear what Sparkly Eyes says but with the way his friend peers over the roof in my direction, there’s no doubt it was about me. I cock a brow when his friend's auburn eyes lock with mine. In response, this prick sticks his tongue between his middle and index finger.
My nose wrinkles.
The car heads towards the exit before the window slides down. Sparkly Eyes peers out with a smile, one that must shatter vaginas all over this town, and speeds off.
“Making friends?” My dad’s voice startles me, my eyes on the car. Turning around, I drop the cigarette and kick it away. He speaks before I can answer. “Keep your eyes on your books, Ray. These boys are no better than the ones back in The Shore. Come on.” He dangles a set of keys. “Let’s check out our new home.”
There it is. The silver lining.
While I’m not fond of liaising with the upper class at this school, any house here is better than The Shores.
Driving through Eden gets Sparkly Eyes off my mind. It feels like I’ve entered another dimension. This is beyond Edward Scissorhands or Weeds. Eden Gardens feels like we’ve died and gone to heaven. If bushy trees aren’t lining our drive, it’s colourful flowers or manicured hedges. It’s all so familiar but after all these years, it all feels new.
Dad follows his GPS past houses made for fairytales and buildings made of glass. Right until all the sparkle and shine disappear.
“Did you make a wrong turn?” I ask, looking behind us. We pass over train tracks, the path ahead dark and raggedy while the sun shines on green pastures behind. “‘Cause we're in The Grove.”
Dad taps his phone, hooked to the plastic vent. “That’s the address.” Locking the doors, we roll by a couple of men in tattered clothes, needles pointed at their veins. Rolling up the window cuts off the stench of burning tires entering the car.
Eden smelt so fresh. So breezy. This smells like my hope burning away.
After another ten minutes, we pull up to a rundown garage, Dad slowing to a stop.
“You sure this is the place?” Not gonna lie, it looks like a motherfucking crack house. Dent in the garage door, shutters falling off, boarded-up windows. The small driveway is empty, lights off inside.
“The address matches.” Dad looks around before he gets out of the car.
Pulling my plaid shirt over my shoulders, I get out with him. Looking around, only a few other boarded-up houses sit on the eerie cul-de-sac and it’s exactly that. A dead fucking end.
The door creaks open when I get to Dad, the frowsy smell of damp wood welcoming us. The walls are worse than the trailer we rented in Shady Shores. All wood. Some with graffiti. The yellowing vinyl looks as old as Dad. From the sixties, mangled and ripped.
Dad flicks the switch, the light flickering on. And now it all looks worse.
With a sigh, he enters. “Looks like we’re home.”
“Why are we here, again?”
Why I let August and his boys drag me back over the tracks before classes tomorrow is beyond me.
“Would you rather be home alone in our new death trap?” he asks, a wall of Ravens in front of me as we approach a modern mansion.
Gull and Owl march on each side of August. And he’s right. Around my brother and his gang of trouble is much better than being alone back in The Grove. I’m trying to be optimistic for Dad with his new job and all but the truth is, these people screwed us.
While they get to live in fancy mansions like this one, they shafted us poor folk with the rest of ‘em. To be fair, we should’ve known better.
Gull whistles. “Man, I’m glad you told us to come out here.” He rubs his tattooed hands together, ZIP code on his knuckles, compliments of August. “These rich assholes have no idea what’s coming to ‘em.”
Shaking my head, I push through their barrier, walking towards the modern monstrosity.
“The fuck you think you’re going?" August grabs my arm, a denim jacket on his big, broad build. “You’re staying with us.”
Looking back at the house, the picture-perfect property is abuzz with young people. They’re all dressed in fancy clothes and expensive attire. Wouldn't be an Eden Gardens party otherwise.
“Look around us, Augie," I smirk, the four cans I crushed with the guys already giving me a small buzz as I walk backward in my boots. “We’re not in The Shore. The only people packing here are you guys.”
“Told you not to call me that!” he calls from behind me as I approach the house. “Ray! Hold the fuck on!”
The house doesn’t look like anything in The Grove. Sure as hell doesn’t look like anything back in The Shores. Walking across the stone and glass bridge, I look over at the koi fish below. So fucking unnecessary.
“Who let the poor whore in here?”
“They’re letting anyone into ERU.”
“Ugh, Eden is going downhill fast.”
Snobby fucks.
Unlike them, I didn’t dress up for this, a black tank above another pair of cut-off shorts, fishnets underneath.
Bass rattles the abstract art on the walls when I get inside. It would be easy to mistake this mansion for a nightclub with how extravagant this party is. Strobe lights and fog. Glitter confetti to match the sparkly gems and outfits. Servers carry champagne in bikinis between grinding bodies. It’s like The Great Gatsby. On ecstasy.
Avoiding the madness in the living room, I turn to the kitchen on my right. It’s as eccentric as the rest of the house. Bright green cupboards, abstract lighting, and stone counters. But it’s the giant island of alcohol that has my attention. I’m almost at it before there’s a pull on my arm.
“Come on,” August growls. “I need you.” With a long reach, I’m able to snag a bottle of something before he pulls me away. Damn those muscles of his.
“For what?” August pulls me through the crowd and down a long hallway with platinum records and photos of celebrities on the wall. “I’m not helping you, remember?” Pulling the cork out of the bottle in my hand, scotch, I take a swig.
“Don't be stupid," he says, the halls getting quieter the further we go. "Dad needs our help now more than ever.” He pulls me up the steps with him before he leads me down another hall, dim lights built into the wall. He checks each room along the way. “If you can’t see that then you’re as delusional as these idiots. Now watch the door.” He slips into a room before I can answer and as stupid as my brother is, I’m not letting him get caught. Not here.
After a few minutes, he emerges empty-handed before taking me down the hall to another door.
When he opens it, there’s a girl spread eagle on the bed, a guy with his cock in his hand beside her.
“Get the fuck out,” August demands.
The naked guy with the perfect quiff narrows his eyes. “What the fuck? This room is occupied.” His blonde girl scrambles under the sheets.
Before I can stop him, August reaches into the back of his pants for his Glock. The girl screams when he points it at the guy’s head, his hands up in surrender. “Should’ve got out when you had the chance, huh?” August moves it under his chin and I can see his lip quiver.
“Crow,” I warn, closing the door behind me. Best for these guys not to know his real name. “Let ‘em go.” The last thing we need is a lawsuit.
August’s head moves around the room. It’s almost as big as our old trailer yet there’s hardly anything in it, a gold chandelier above the bed. August's eyes stop on something on the bedside table. A small baggie. “Who’s your dealer?”
/>
Seriously? Drugs? He’s thinking about drugs right now?
“Wh-what?” the guy asks. August cocks his gun. He squeals easy. “Isaac! Isaac Johnson!”
My jaw tenses. I know that name.
“And where is Isaac Johnson?” August asks.
“I dunno, man, in his room? Down the hall.”
August pushes the gun further, lifting his chin with the barrel before he laughs. “Good boy. Tell anyone you saw me and I’ll hunt you the fuck down and take Big Titties over there for myself.” He winks her way and she pulls the sheet higher before he turns around and leaves.
Fuck.
Following August out of the room, my heart races. This is the feeling I didn’t want. The racing pulse, the sweaty palms, the guilt. “The fuck are you doing, August?”
He’s quick down the hall, knowing he’s put us on a timer. “It’s called insurance, little sis.” Shoving the gun back in its place, he glances behind us. “Do you see the shitbox they put us in? After letting you into their prestigious fucking school there’s no way they’re paying dad enough. What he deserves anyway. And you know what I promised.”
I’d been too distracted by the shock of our new home to even ask what dad’s making up here. August might be right. Dad still shops at the cheapest stores and still counts coupons before he goes. The house we’re in is no better than The Shore. Worse considering how close we are to these fucks.
August’s hands come to my shoulders, forcing me to look into his dark grey eyes. “What did I say, Ray?”
A twist in my gut forms as I remember his words. As I remember why he does what he does. Why I did what I did. “We’ll never be in that position again.”
He nods. “You might not wanna keep that promise, but I do. Now, man the fucking door.” He disappears into a large bedroom, a chest by the bed and he goes straight for it. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I know he’s right.
These people did nothing for us. So why shouldn’t we take from them? Again. Not like they’ll miss anything.