Forever Golden: Dark High School Bully Romance (Kings of Cypress Prep Book 3)

by Rachel Jonas

  “We should go upstairs,” I suggest. “Let’s rummage through Vin’s shit and see what we find.”

  Both my brothers look at me like I’ve lost my fucking mind, but it’s the perfect night. Mom and Vin are at the same charity event they attend every year right before Christmas. And I’m not sure what goes on there, but they’ve never made it back in for the night before three a.m.

  “We’ve got a couple hours at least,” I say with a groan, pulling myself up off the bed, still dressed in what I wore over to Southside’s.

  “What exactly are we looking for?” Dane asks.

  “Hell if I know. Just anything,” I reason with a shrug. “We’ll know when we find it.”

  Honestly, it’s the weed talking and I have no fucking idea what I’m saying, but I’m convinced this is what we need to do with the rest of our night.

  “Sterling, take the lobby. Dane, I need you on elevator watch.”

  They look at each other like I’m crazy, and they might be right, but there’s no stopping me. I’m already out of my room, down the hall, and pressing the call button for the private elevator. As I ride it up to my parents’ floor alone, there’s a quiet voice in the back of my head telling me what a shit idea this is, but, like I said, high me is unstoppable. And not in the ‘valiant, heroic’ sort of way. More so in the ‘reckless abandon’ meaning of the word.

  Yep, that’s me. My comic book name would be ‘Super Stupid’ or some shit.

  The broad, metal doors part and I lay eyes on the polished marble tile of my parents’ foyer. The gleaming white reflects light from the chandelier above. They’ve left every light on, but that’s typical for them. Why conserve energy when you’ve got more money in your bank account than this whole city combined, right?

  I step out, thinking I’m on some kind of recon mission, but it isn’t until I hear voices that I realize that assumption was dead-ass wrong. My gut tells me to get back on the elevator before they notice I’m here, but the tone and volume of their voices makes this seem more like an argument than a regular conversation. She’s screaming and, from what I can hear she’s also crying, but I can’t make out her words.

  So, being your friendly neighborhood Super Stupid, I push forward in the name of justice, or… maybe it’s just blind stupidity.

  “You’re saying so much, Vin, but none of it explains what I saw!” Mom yells.

  “Pam, for the last time, tell me what the fuck you did with it. You have no fucking right to touch my things!”

  I’m close enough now that I get a glimpse of my parents through the partially open door to my father’s study. It’s a mess—papers thrown everywhere, books all over the floor, every drawer and cabinet door open. Even the oil painting over the fireplace is pulled away from the wall. Behind it, the faint green glow of the digits on the safe can be seen. I have no clue what’s gone missing, but I do know Vin’s desperate to find it.

  His hair’s wild and damp with sweat. The top button of his shirt and the bowtie around his neck are both undone. Mom’s still wearing a long, black formal gown, but the straps from her shoes are dangling from her fingers.

  “Dammit, Pam! Tell me what you fucking did with it!” Vin shouts again, and with how my heart’s pounding in my chest, I nearly rush in there, but something tells me to wait.

  So, I don’t dismiss that small voice in my head this time, choosing to stay put and listen.

  “All those names and dollar amounts. I don’t… I don’t understand. Is it a prostitution ring?” Mom asks, unable to fight the strain I hear so clearly in her voice. “Is that what you’ve gotten yourself into? Because it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  She pauses then and presses a hand to her mouth when she gets choked up.

  “No, none of it makes sense,” she corrects herself. “Because we’ve already got more cash than we could ever spend in a lifetime, so there’s no reason in the world I can think of that explains why you’d be doing what I think you’re doing.”

  Vin slams his fist on the desk, and I swear the whole penthouse rattles.

  “Always so fucking self-righteous,” he growls. “We weren’t all born with a silver spoon in our mouths!”

  “Is that what this is about?” she scoffs. “You resent me because of where I come from? What my family has? Because last I checked, you benefited from their wealth, too.”

  He balls his fist again, but this time stops just short of pounding the desk. Instead, he closes his eyes and tries to regain his composure.

  “And did you ever stop to think that maybe I don’t want that hanging over my head anymore? That you’ve brought more to the damn table than I have?”

  “I’ve never thrown that in your face,” Mom snaps. “You have more than done well for yourself, regardless of how and where you started. Which is why I don’t understand any of this.”

  Staring at her, he lifts his hands when a simple answer falls from his mouth. “If there’s more to take, Pam, why not take it?” he reasons. “I’m building a legacy. An empire. Why create a limit when there isn’t one?”

  Mom’s quiet, like she’s trying to process Vin’s words. “Shouldn’t there always be a limit, though? A line we’re not willing to cross just to add a few more zeros to our bank account?”

  He stares at her with hellfire in his eyes, not saying a word, which says it all.

  “Guess that answers my question,” Mom scoffs, staggering back a bit after having the wind knocked out of her.

  Vin lowers his head and takes a deep breath. “That’s not what I meant. Of course, there are boundaries.”

  Mom throws her hand up, clearly fed up with the course of this conversation.

  “I knew the moment you got involved with your fucking family again it’d be our downfall.”

  My brow tenses when she says those words, because I don’t understand what it means. I set my confusion aside for now, to listen closely and make sure I don’t miss anything.

  “Pam, if you just return my ledger, I’d be glad to have a peaceful, civilized conversation with you about this, but the information you took was important and it’s also confidential. You could get me in deep shit if I don’t have it back in my hands immediately.”

  She glares at him and I haven’t seen this side of her before. Maybe it just took her eyes being opened for her to come around.

  “You’ll get your ledger when I get the truth.”

  With that, she turns to leave, and I forgot to mention that being high also makes me slow. Which is why my reaction time is for shit right now and I’m caught.

  She stops dead in her tracks, staring at me with mascara streaking down her face. I’m frozen there, unsure of what to do, unsure of whether I should explain why I was eavesdropping, but before I can even think of an excuse, she walks away.

  Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t rat me out to Vin. Just walks away.

  For a moment, I’m stunned by her reaction, but then I come to my senses and sprint back to the elevator, grateful I’m barefoot so my exit is silent.

  I’ve got no idea what I just witnessed, but I now know there’s some sort of ledger and Vin’s just been bested by the woman he’s mistreated for years.

  I’m not into that sort of thing, but karma’s definitely come back to bite him square in the ass.

  Standing in the elevator, I pull out my phone and send a text.

  West: We need to talk. Can you meet me tonight?

  Ricky: The pier. Twenty minutes.

  Chapter 16

  WEST

  “You’ve gotta be shitting me. You’re fucking high?”

  Ricky spots it right off the bat, the second I walk up on his car wearing a dark hoodie and sweats. No doubt, my red, dilated eyes gave me away.

  “Listen, some shit went down,” I say, ignoring his question.

  He lowers the driver’s side window a little more, glancing around before he speaks. “You’re gonna get us caught. You know that? Sooner or later, someone’s gonna spot us out here.”

&nb
sp; “I played it safe,” I explain. “Left my car in a parking structure a few blocks away, then walked here.”

  One of his brows shoots up, then he looks me over from head to toe. “Your dumb ass thought walking a few blocks through the hood in three-hundred-dollar sneakers was playing it safe?” He shakes his head at me, then laughs.

  After he points all that out, my comic book name comes to mind again. The one I keep living up to tonight.

  “You’re lucky this is about Blue,” he adds, still smiling at my expense. “What happened?”

  “I overheard my parents arguing tonight,” I explain. “Something about a ledger. Apparently, it’s got all kinds of names in it, and dollar amounts.”

  His brow tenses. “You get a good look at it?”

  “I didn’t see it at all. Just heard them fighting about it. From what I gathered, my mom must’ve hidden it. My dad was apparently searching everywhere, tearing his study apart before he realized what actually happened. At least that’s how things seemed to play out.”

  He’s quiet while he thinks, and I shrug deeper into my hoodie when the wind whips past.

  “I figured you were the one to talk to because of something I understand you’ve brought up before.”

  Ricky peers up from his thought. “What’s that?”

  “Cargo,” I say with a sigh.

  He doesn’t seem surprised I know, but he does seem troubled.

  “Hear anything else?”

  My first thought is that I’ve told him everything, but then something comes to mind.

  “She mentioned that she knew getting involved with his family would be trouble. You seen anyone else hanging around? Anyone you’re not familiar with?”

  Ricky shrugs. “There’ve been a few new names popping up across the city. I can look into it.”

  I’m still just as lost about that part as I was before, so I’ll take that answer for now.

  “Any chance you’ve seen a ledger of some kind lying around at Paul’s place? Something like what I described?” I ask, to which he responds with a short laugh.

  “Yeah, right,” he scoffs. “Leaving sensitive shit lying around like that is reckless, a mistake only someone who’s in over their head would make. Unlike your daddy, Paul’s too smart to be that sloppy.”

  I don’t argue with him because he’s probably right. About all of it.

  “Whatever, just keep your eyes and ears open.”

  He peers up and stares, letting me know he doesn’t need my instruction, then starts rolling up his window.

  “Go home, rich boy. Before I call my boys and tell them where they can get some crisp new shoes,” he jokes, eyeing my sneakers again.

  I start toward the structure where I left my car, staring at Ricky’s taillights when he passes me. I make it maybe a few yards before he stops, then backs up.

  “I’m probably gonna regret this shit, but Blue would kill me if something happened to your stupid ass and I was the last one to lay eyes on you,” he explains. “Get in. I’ll take you to your ride.”

  As far as invitations go, that was about the shittiest I’ve ever gotten in my life, but it’s too fucking cold to turn it down.

  I hop in on the passenger side and shut the door. Ricky eyes me, probably finding it hard to believe he even offered, but then he shakes his head and throws the car into drive.

  “Tell anyone about this shit, and I’ll deny it. Then, I’ll kill you.”

  I laugh to myself, knowing no one would ever believe it anyway. Both of us being irrevocably in love with the same girl means we have to at least tolerate each other.

  For now, that’s about as much as either of us can promise.

  I guess it’s enough.

  Chapter 17

  BLUE

  She’s not the big bad wolf. She’s not the devil. How bad could this be?

  Still in a towel after showering, I let out a breath and stare at the phone. If it hadn’t been for the call that came in from West late last night, I wouldn’t even be considering this, but knowing there’s an actual ledger with names and records of cash exchanged makes this whole thing so much more real. I need to get Scar out of here as soon as possible.

  There, I’ve dialed all the numbers. Now, just to actually make the call.

  Just do it. Quick. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.

  The next second, the line’s trilling in my ear and my stomach’s in knots.

  “Hello?” an aged, raspy voice answers. A voice I haven’t heard in forever.

  “Grandma, it’s Blue. I’m sorry to bother you.”

  I hear what sounds like an old box spring creaking in the background, which means I woke her.

  “It’s early, I know. I wouldn’t have called if it weren’t an emergency,” I explain.

  “He dead?” she asks coldly. It only takes a second to realize she’s talking about Mike, her son.

  “N—no,” I stammer. “He’s alive. This isn’t about him.”

  A disgusting sound assaults my ears when she clears her throat and barks a rattly, mucus-infused cough.

  “Then what the hell do you want?” she presses.

  There are no formalities. No questions about how her three grandchildren are faring in this world. No questions about her son, other than to ask if he’s dead.

  “I… was hoping I could ask you something. A favor.”

  “Just say it, would ya?” she gripes, making it clear this is going to be a million times harder than I thought.

  I swallow hard and close my eyes. “It’s Scar. For reasons I can’t really explain, she needs to get out of Cypress Pointe, and your house is the only place safe I could think to send her. So—”

  “She pregnant?”

  Caught off guard yet again, I stutter a clunky response. “She… I… no.”

  “Sure about that?”

  “Of course, I’m sure,” I say.

  There’s a long pause, a sigh so deep I can tell she’s regretting picking up the phone this morning.

  “What is she, eleven? Twelve?”

  I roll my eyes, grateful the woman can’t see me. “She just turned fifteen yesterday.”

  “That’s a terrible age,” she complains. “Teenagers think they know it all and don’t listen to a damn thing. No. I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”

  “Grandma, please.”

  It isn’t until those words leave my mouth that I understand the level of my own desperation. To be begging a woman to take my sister in who I know for a fact has never cared a thing for anyone’s wellbeing but her own.

  She’s quiet again, either considering what I’ve asked, or she’s thinking of a more effective way to tell me to go fuck myself.

  That hateful sigh hisses into my ear again.

  “Don’t make me fucking regret this,” she snaps. “I’ve got a paying tenant in the spare room and I ain’t screwing up that arrangement for anyone. That means Scarlett will be on the couch and she and Hank can share the guest bath. If things don’t work out, she’ll be the one to go.”

  Hank—a strange man I don’t know from the next guy.

  Under the same roof with my sister.

  “…Thanks,” I force out. “Can you text me the name of the local school district when we end the call? So I can get the enrollment process started? I’ll likely be bringing her to you early next month.”

  “Shit. How the hell did your problems become my problems this morning?” she says. “I’ll get to it when I get to it. I’m going back to sleep.”

  With that, the line beeps in my ear. She hung up.

  I stare at my phone when the call ends and I’m sick to my stomach at the thought of… well, all of it. My grandmother being my sister’s sole caretaker, Scar being so far away.

  Hank.

  I take note of the time and toss my phone to the bed. I’ve got the breakfast shift this morning and I really don’t need this shit.

  I pull my hair into a ponytail and drop my towel, slipping into the powder-blue uniform I’ll be wearing u
ntil at least three this afternoon. It’s freezing outside, so I slide on a pair of leggings I’ll take off when I get to Dusty’s. I’m nearly done, swiping on some lip gloss when my eyes dart to the phone again. Grandma Riley isn’t my only option. Hell, she isn’t even the best option, and I’m starting to think I know who might be.

  Before I can overthink things, I dial the Cypress Pointe Police Department and ask for Detective Roby. I’m on hold for what feels like forever, but that’s mostly my impatience making it seem that way. By the time I hear a familiar voice on the other end of the line, I’ve lost my nerve.

  What if he can’t be trusted?

  “This is Detective Roby,” he says for a second time.

  Just talk to the man. You know him. He’s a good guy. At least he used to be.

  “Good morning, Detective. This is… Blue. Blue Riley.”

  He’s quiet for a moment and I don’t know how to read his silence.

  “It’s been quite some time, Blue,” he says. “You doing all right?”

  I’m shaking so bad I can hardly hold the phone, listening to the ambient chatter and shuffling of paperwork in the background.

  “I’m good.”

  “I stopped into your uncle’s diner a few weeks ago. He said you’ve been waitressing for him.”

  “I have. Headed there in a few, actually,” I say. “How’s Dez?”

  “She’s well—graduated from Everly with honors last spring. Now, she’s having a great first year according to the grades she’s bringing in. I don’t hear from her much now that she’s all grown up,” he adds with a laugh.

  “And Mrs. Roby?”

  He pauses this time. “She passed away a few years back. An aneurysm. Completely unexpected.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” he reasons. “Is there something I can help you with this morning?”

  The spotlight’s back on me, I guess.

  “Actually, yeah. I saw your interview on the news the other night and I… wondered if we could talk about that. You mentioned that you’ve formed a task force just to look into the missing girls.”