Keep it Secret

by Olivia Snow

  Ava is everything Vanessa isn’t. Vanessa is innocence incarnate and Ava well, she’s the completely opposite. The two cousins’ have nothing in common…except Gabriel Mason.

  Ava is thrown into a love triangle without even knowing it. Normally, she wouldn’t care but this particular triangle involves her beloved cousin Vanessa. She doesn’t want to hurt Vanessa. But the more time she spends with Gabriel the more she finds it difficult to stay away. Then again who will Gabriel choose, Ava or Vanessa?

  Vanessa has lived a life of luxury, but all that comes with a price. She is kept on a pedestal by her parents and is expected to act a certain way. After her cousin Ava moves in with her mother, she quickly realizes the family she thought she knew is full of secrets, secrets that will completely shatter the illusion of her perfect life, secrets that involve a bathroom, Gabriel Mason and her cousin Ava.

  Keep it Secret

  Olivia Snow

  Copyright 2014 by Olivia Snow

  Smashwords Edition

  Smashwords, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter-Thirty-Four

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Five years ago…

  Beep

  Beep

  The sounds of the heart monitors bounced around within the hospital hallway walls, as I stood frozen outside the waiting room.

  Beep

  Beep

  God, it smelled awful, sterilized death, that’s what I’d call it.

  Beep

  Beep

  “Avie? Honey, come inside.” Uncle Bill softly tugged my wrist pulling me in the room. Mamma’s curled up on a chair, her head buried in between her knees. Aunt Cynthia sat next to her petting her head. Uncle Bill grabbed both of my shoulders gently forcing me to sit across from my aunt and mother he sits next to me holding my tiny hands in his large ones.

  “How did it happen?” All I knew was that my dad had been in an accident. Aunt Cynthia pulled me out of school without any explanation of what had happened to my babbo.

  “Well, honey—” Uncle Bill begins to speak but is suspended by my aunt.

  “William, don’t.” She snaps her attention to us but never stops caressing Mamma’s head.

  “Cynthia, she wants to find out. It’s her father.” Aunt Cynthia doesn't say anything after that just continues to pet Mamma, Mamma doesn't move from her position. I do not think she is even aware I’m in the room.

  “He was struck by a car, honey.” Uncle Bill said as gently as possible.

  “Was the truck ruined?” I’m not sure why that was the first thing to emerge from my mouth. My thirteen-year-old mind didn’t comprehend the severity of the situation.

  “He was not in the truck. He was crossing the street when he was struck by a speeding driver.” Uncle Bill squeezed my hands a little tighter. My breath hitched as the realization of what was happening finally dawned on me. There’s a chance my babbo could die. He might never return to me. No, that wouldn't happen. Babbo was tough he could get through anything. He would fight this and get better. I looked up at Uncle Bill expecting to see the same hope in his eyes, but they were empty. I desperately looked over at Aunt Cynthia her expression was the same ones, blank without emotion. They've given up hope without even trying. Uncle Bill tightened his hold wanting to get my attention back to him.

  “Ava, it doesn't look go—” he was interrupted once again by a knock at the door. A short man with black slacks, green sweater and a clipboard carefully walked in. I already hated him; no one in the middle of May wears a sweater unless you're some kind of freak.

  “Hello, my name is Harold Simpson, I work with the Trauma Unit.” He stood in front of the room commanding everyone’s attention. We all looked at him waiting for whatever he had to tell, except for Mamma, she still hadn’t moved.

  “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you as of 1:45 this afternoon Tomas Veneziano has passed away. I’m so sorry for your loss.” His words were cold and used one too many times it was a well-practiced speech. An ice-cold blanket covered my entire body as I processed the words that had just been spoken to me. Uncle Bill released my hands to cover his face to cry. Aunt Cynthia held Mamma as they both sobbed. Me, I just sat there feeling numb and cold. My teeth shattered. My hands stiffen turning white.

  “Breath,” the man said kneeling down next to me. “You’re having a panic attack. If you don't breath you'll pass out.” I nodded filling my lungs with air.

  “Would you like to see him?” He asked softly placing a hand on my shoulder. My mind screamed yes, but my mouth, my body wasn't moving.

  “Absolutely not!” Aunt Cynthia responded as if his question were the most depraved words ever spoken.

  “I’m sorry ma'am I did not mean to upset you. Some people find saying good-bye to their loved ones therapeutic.”

  “How would it be therapeutic for a thirteen year old girl to see the body of her dead father? You're a sick, sick man.” She spit her words in disgust.

  “Cynthia, he’s just trying to help.” Uncle Bill’s voice was shaky with emotion as he defended the man.

  “That wouldn't help her. It would burn the horrible image in her mind forever. I won’t allow that. Thank you very much for your services. You may go now.” He had been dismissed. The man stood tightening his clipboard. “I apologize for upsetting you. It wasn't my intention.” He smiled tightly at Aunt Cynthia, but for me, he smiled apologetically before leaving. Throughout the entire conversation I was speechless, my mind was screaming at Aunt Cynthia for not letting me see him one last time. She had taken my chance to say goodbye to my father.

  My lifeline had been cut.

  Chapter One

  Ava

  I stared. I looked at my face for so long it became distorted. Facial features blurred into malformed shapes until I looked like a bad interpretation of Picasso’s The Weeping Woman. It’s amazing how your mind can manipulate things to resemble something else, something foreign. Inside, I was like an ugly monster flawe
d beyond repair. I was rotten to the core and made no attempt to conceal it. To my disgust, my outside did not match, not even close. I was beautiful. Cascading jet-black hair that reached the top of my ass, almond shaped honey colored eyes, lightly bronzed skin and curves a bikini model would die for. The beautiful pod served only as a distraction from what lay within. Standing right in front of the bathroom mirror, Rose tapped lightly on the door disrupting myself loathing.

  “Yeah?” I asked, tilting my head towards the doors direction.

  “Can you make sure you walk through your room one more time? Before the movers get here?” Her question was muffled behind the door but still audible.

  “Sure.” I responded with disinterest. With one hand on the doorknob, I say a silent prayer hoping it would open on the first attempt but as usual the warped wood stuck to the frame. I chuckled in frustration smacking my forehead against the stubborn wood. Trying again, this time with both hands on the doorknob. I twisted and pulled as it finally gave flying open, sounding like a giant band-aide begin stripped off skin.

  Coming out of the bathroom into my room, a breeze blew inside carrying the scent of freshly made bread. The mouth-watering smell came from the Mexican bakery that stood behind our dilapidating Aurora, Colorado apartment building. Like any place in the country, there were the nice areas and the not so nice areas. We, live in the worst type of area. Aurora is approximately thirty minutes away from Denver depending on your location and two hours away from Vail; where we would be moving. Standing in the middle of my semi-empty room I gripped the gold crucifix that hangs around my neck for, reassurance. I plopped down on the floor crossing my legs as I looked around the room that had been mine for the past four years. These four white walls were filled with unwanted memories. Now only a few small pieces of paper remained scattered throughout the dingy worn out tan carpet along with taped up cardboard boxes labeled: Ava’s Shit.

  Laying down on the carpet staring up at the popcorn ceiling I released a heavy sigh pinching the bridge of my nose as my thoughts began to wonder to the world of no return. The dark pit in my heart was difficult to miss while the memories of my father played back in my mind.

  At the influential age of thirteen, my father was killed in a car accident. After his death, my mother went into a deep depression leaving me to fend for myself. She wouldn’t step out of bed despite how much I begged or cried. Even at that age I felt ashamed of what my family had become, how quickly it shattered. Pride inevitably took over, unwilling to disgrace my father’s name. I never told any one of my mother’s condition. Except, for my older cousin Declan. I had confessed it all to him after one of my drunken escapades. After my father’s death and my mother’s emotional abandonment it felt like my heart had become emotionally blocked. Blocking any love to enter or leave. I find it hard to show any emotion and when I do it’s faked. No, I lie. Anger and lust; those emotions I do not fake.

  I looked for love in all the wrong places loosing my virginity soon after my father’s death. It was the beginning of eighth grade when I invited my then boyfriend Kevin Lee—who was two years older then me—over to my house after school, as we sat on my bed with a bottle of tequila in my hands, things progressed from kissing to groping fairly quickly. Though the experience was painful at first, I gained a sense of control. I had asked him over. I took off my shirt. I had the power. It was like I finally had control over my own life. Nonetheless, even with my newfound control I still failed eighth grade leaving me a year older than everyone in my class. Financially, our problems were much worse. My dad’s life insurance policy was only able to pay the bills for a year. My efforts to keep us afloat seemed pointless because we inevitably lost our house to foreclosure. The charming Victorian on West Irving my parents had bought and restored before I was born was no longer ours. By the age of fourteen my life was a whirlwind of bills, money, schoolwork, teenage drama and being a caretaker. My only escape was self-medicating with sex and alcohol. A day after the one-year anniversary of his death, Rose sought help from a professional, not sure what snapped her out of it. It sure as hell was not the need to take care of her only child that’s for sure.

  Shaking my thoughts, away I brought the cross to my lips placing a soft kiss on it. The holy cross was my father’s given to him by his father after his First Communion. I only wear the cross as a symbol of my babbo’s love and nothing else. My religious beliefs are…well…non-existent. I personally teeter the edge of the atheistic cliff. I guess I take after my mother in that aspect. I use the word mother loosely. Yearning to hear his voice I grab my phone to access my voicemail box. For five years, I’ve kept the last message he left me, along with the now ancient first generation iPhone.

  “Avie, it’s Babbo. Make sure you take out the trash when you get home, capito? Ti amo amore mio. Ciao.”

  I’ve heard this thousands of times maybe even millions. My eyes close unaided as they start to burn with emotion I rotate my neck from left to right causing my bones to crack. Instantly, the emotions fade. I open my eyes to an emotionless me as my cell phone vibrates. Peaking at the screen as it flashes it alerts me of an incoming text. It was from Christian.

  Chris: Wat time r u leaving

  I knew where this was going. Christian was one of the guys I have sex with regularly. He’s been my favorite flavor by far.

  Me: Movers will b here n 30

  Chris: Can I cum c u b4 u leave?

  Oh, boy.

  Me: Meet me at the usual in 5 mins

  Chris: Rite on

  “Rose, I’ll be right back.” I yell to my mother as I get to the front door.

  “All right but please hurry. The movers will be here soon.” She called from the small apartment kitchen. I didn’t bother replying.

  The laundromat was in the basement of the apartment complex. Hardly anyone did laundry during the day everyone around here worked two jobs. It was mostly busy during the weekends and at night. Pushing open the heavy laundromat door I found Christian sitting on one of the washing machines. Today, he settled on the lazy bum look wearing a white wife-beater, shiny black gym shorts and navy blue house slippers. Nice to see he was dressed to impress.

  “Hey, beautiful.” He greeted me with a wicked smirk. Christian was twenty years old and the quintessential bad boy man-whore, naturally, I was attracted to him, he was also the neighborhood pot dealer and on the side he promoted different bars and clubs around town, giving me free access to alcohol without the worry of getting carded.

  I stop to admire his chestnut brown hair he usually spikes with product. Today it was combed back freshly out the shower. I could smell his woodsy body soap from here. Christian was beautiful and he knew it. Eye’s a deep chocolate brown and skin that was tanned all year round was covered with tattoos. Christian jumped off the machine quickly closing the distance between us.

  “I’m going to miss you, you know?” He whispered, “especially, these damn eyes.”

  His body towering over me, as he was almost a foot taller, Christian grabbed the back of my head gently pulling my hair trying to get a better view of my eyes.

  “Well, you better make this memorable.” I replied hooking my finger on the waistband of his shorts causing him to thrust into me. Against his lower back, I inched my fingers inside of his shorts bypassing his boxers. His perky butt was out of this world and ridiculously smooth. Unable to help myself I grabbed a handful of his juicy muscles and squeeze. Christian groaned letting his head hang down to my lips. He forcefully pushes his tongue into my mouth before I could respond he shoves me against the door letting go of my hair. Not one to waste any time he begins kissing the curve of my neck licking and nipping my sensitive skin. I let out a soft moan knowing it would drive him crazy. His tongue invades my mouth once again, caressing mine, deepening our kiss. Christian was a great kisser, not too wet, not too fast just perfect, one of the best kissers in my list of boy toys. Still, I wondered how it would be like to kiss someone I actually cared for or even loved. Love. I mentally laughed
at the idea. Swiping my thoughts away I pull back just enough to take his lower lip inside my mouth to suck on it. Baring my teeth down on his plumpness, adding a little pain to his pleasure, Christian groans before slipping his cold fingertips under the hem of my shirt caressing my stomach, causing me to let out a small gasp. His hands move up towards my breasts roughly kneading my bra covered tits. My eyes close as I enjoy the sensation of having my breasts played with. Christian dropped his hands away from my swollen breasts but before I could question his actions my black halter-top was being lifted over my head and getting tossed towards a corner of the room. Standing half naked I decided he had too many articles of clothing on, I pulled off his shirt and chucked it in the same direction mine flew my lips made their way to his hard tattooed pecs as my hands leisurely move up and down his thick arms. His smooth mestizo skin tightened just as my moist tongue trailed around it sucking his male nipple.

  “Fuck, baby.” Christian groaned.

  Gag. I hate it when guys call me baby. It’s so generic. Get an imagination and think of something creative or here’s a thought: Use my fucking name!

  Irritated, I grabbed his waist turning to slam him against the door, switching positions. Ripping open a flavored condom—cherry—from my back pocket I dropped to my knees tugging the string lose on his shorts. I pulled them down along with his boxers causing his erection to spring out. Kind of reminded me of a diving board being jumped off of.