Family Net Worth: $600 Million
Damn… I’m going to be living with pretentious twats.
“Don’t worry, we’re not those type of snobs.” Jordan notices my change of mood. “We only state the family net worth because whoever is the richest family in the house has to buy the most rounds of drinks when we go out.” Thank God.
I laugh if off. “Okay.”
“What does your dad do?” Poppy asks me.
“My dad is a member of parliament. He serves under the Queen.”
“Oh my God, have you ever met her?!” Poppy’s eyes light up at the possibility.
“Um, yeah, actually it’s a very interesting story.”
“What happened?” Cody asks.
“I sort of asked her where she gets her knickers from.”
“Knickers?” Jordana grins at me. “As in underwear?”
“Yep… my mum almost fainted in Buckingham Palace.”
Laughs erupt.
“Wait, what did she say?” Poppy asks.
“Nothing, she just laughed and winked at me. She was very pleasant. I don’t understand what all the fuss was about. I mean, that was a good question. Don’t you Americans ever wonder what kind of undergarments your President and his first lady have on?”
They all looked at each other. “Yeah,” they answered in unison.
“Thank you.”
“You are very direct.” Jordana’s amused eyes squint at me as if I am unreal. “You have to be to ask the Queen of England that.”
“Yah, my mum says my intolerance for discretion is what keeps her blood pressure at an immense level.”
“How does your dad take it?” Cody asks.
“Quite well. He’s the only man in the government that doesn’t have a stick up his arse.”
“What about your mom?” Poppy asks.
“My mum’s family originally hails from Sweden. She comes from money due to my grandfather. He created a diversified trading company. One of the best in Europe.”
“What’s your mother’s maiden name?” Cody asks.
“Nordstrand.”
“Hey,” Cody snaps his fingers. “My grandparents actually did business with him.”
“Yeah, I don’t remember him much. I was two when he died, but my mormor— grandmother in Swedish—she always spoke so highly of him. Actually, she was friends with Ms. Eleanor; that’s how I came to be here.”
“Oh, yeah she mentioned that. From what I hear, your grandmother and Ms. Eleanor used to party hard,” Jordana says.
“I’m sure of it,” I laugh. “But she died two years ago. I miss her greatly.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Cody says with sincerity along with Poppy and Jordana. “And I’m not telling you my family’s net worth,” I add.
“No worries, Google just informed me,” Jordana announces while looking at her phone.
“The only reason why we know ours is because of Google. No one just keeps track,” Cody tells me. “Well, I hope not.”
“Northstrand is $5.4 billion. Her father’s family is $6.7 million. We got ourselves another billionaire.” I begin to laugh as Jordana insists we continue with the tour. We leave out of Cody’s room.
“So is it you Cody or is someone else still the richest?” I ask as my eyes drift to the stairway in the corner of the hall leading to what I assume is the third floor. “And what’s up there?”
“Oh, well the richest people in the house,” Jordana answers, “Hugo and August live up there.”
“Who?”
“Hugo and August Mandrake. They’re brothers. Identical twins, actually.”
“Except, August is autistic,” Poppy says with a sad expression on her face.
“Oh,” I say, staring at the stairwell. I’m curious about it. It seems dark and mysterious, the dark path that leads up to their rooms. I look forward to meeting them.
“Let’s go to the living room and take advantage of Eleanor’s liquor cabinet,” Poppy hops clapping her hands together. I follow them only taking one last glance back at the staircase.
HUGO
“Wassup Hugo,” I’m greeted by Nina. She’s answering the door in nothing but mismatching bra and underwear. Her bra is blue and satin while her underwear is purple, red, and pink stripes. Very annoying when girls do that. It almost makes me not want to have sex with them… almost.
“Hello Nina. Is David in?”
She pops her gum. The sound is loud and sharp, igniting my frustration with basically the human race. “Bob Marley is in the back.”
I pass through Nina and head to the back of the brownstone where David is. I walk in on him snorting a line with his brown dreads tied up.
“Hugo!!” David raises his hands up in the air in a dancing manner. “My good friend! My friend that sees everything.”
“I see we are having a good morning.” I sit down on the couch next to him.
“Ah, yes a wonderful morning my brotha.” David goes back to his coke. I look around the room where there are a dozen Marley posters and a Jamaican flag surrounding us. The room filled with black furniture and walls, with marijuana plants in each corner of the room set on top of white Greek marble stands. David Westonburg is a 25-year-old druggy that thinks he’s a Rastafarian. He always goes through changes of identity. In high school he went through an Orthodox Jewish phase because of his mother’s new husband who was a famous rabbi. He even took the last name. After they divorced, he became an atheist until he traveled overseas to go find himself. On his journey he stumbled upon a group of Jamaicans who changed his life forever, so he says. Ever since then he has lived by the words of the greats, which to him is Bob Marley and God. Sometimes he confuses them for the same person.
“You want some?” he asks, wiping the leftover white powder from his nose.
“It’s too early for me,” I say pulling out my credit card. He’s the only drug dealer I know who takes cash and credit. I respect him for that.
“Okay brotha, but it’s good shit.”
“Well, I am here to purchase.”
“What do you need?”
“Ten grams of green, white widow, cherry and mango kush, six eight balls, and twenty molly’s.”
He bobbles his head and rolls his shoulders in excitement. “Okey dokey. Nina!”
Nina walks in still in her mismatching bra and panties and still popping gum, most likely the same piece as before.
“What do you want?” her thick Bronx accent quickly comes with attitude.
“Go fetch the green and powder, please? Ten grams, white widow, cherry and mango kush, six eight balls.” She rolls her eyes and leaves as he pulls out the colonial treasure jewelry box that is filled with molly. David met Nina at a club three years ago and as much as they talk shit to each other and fight like crazy, they can’t get enough of each other. I don’t understand it. I guess it’s the delusion of love.
“So what have you been up to, man?” He sets the coke aside and grabs his bong. At this rate in his drug intake, I expect David’s life expectancy to peak at twenty-nine.
“Oh, you know the usual debauchery and menacing in our good natured society.”
“That’s right, man.” He lights up the bong and inhales the smoke. “Don’t ever let the man conform you,” he chokes out. “Live life beautifully.”
“Is that what you’re doing, David?” He passes the bong to me. I wasn’t going to take a hit, but why the hell not.
He sits back on his couch, stretching his arms and sighs. “Hell yeah. I’m good where I’m at, man. I’m happy.” The way he says it, I almost believe him. Then again maybe he is happy with his pointless existence.
“The greatness of a man is not in how much wealth he acquires, but in his integrity and his ability to affect those around him positively.”
I puff out the smoke from the bong. “Words of Marley, himself.”
“Hell yeah!” He slaps his knee.
“And that’s what you do? Affect people positively?”
“Indeed, my good man
.” He points to his heart. “Through this.” Points to his head. “And this.” He smiles and points to the drugs on the table. “And thiiiiis.”
“Wow, David. Everyone should aspire to be like you.” He laughs at my dry sarcasm.
“Herb is the healing of a nation. Alcohol is the destruction.” Words of Bob Marley again, I’m sure. “That’s why I don’t drink.”
“I don’t think Marley referenced cocaine and pills in his words of wisdom, David.”
David’s smile tightens. He squints his eyes and stares off, taking my words into consideration. He starts to frown. “You’re probably right, man.” He tilts his head to the side. “I should probably stop selling cocaine and pills, huh?”
“Maybe.” I make sure I say this with sincerity. Then cue overcast. “But like Marley said himself, love the life you live. Live the life you love.”
As I predict, David smiles to himself and looks me in the eyes, dazed and confused. “And I do love weed and cocaine. And the people love weed and coke. And the people pay more for coke.” He laughs, shrugging off the hypocrisy within him and I sit the bong on the table as Nina arrives with the merchandise.
People never shock me. They all reek with predictability. Even me. People will always be pawns with angels and devils on their shoulders, trying to stir them down or away from the path of their own desires. I would always be that devil on their shoulders.
JULIET
“So when did all of you start living here?” I ask before I take a sip of my cocktail. Raided Ms. Eleanor’s liquor cabinet, we did indeed. And according to them, she never minds. As long as it is in the house—that’s her main rule. I knew I would like her.
“I’ve been here since I was fifteen. Poppy too. Cody came two years ago,” Jordana answers.
“What schools do you attend?”
“I’m attending Princeton,” Cody answers in a very snobbish way. I don’t think he means it in that way. I think he’s just overly proud of himself, which he is entitled to be.
“Sarah Lawrence,” Jordana answers.
“Columbia,” Poppy says and my mouth drops.
Jordana laughs, noticing my twisted expression.
“Poppy’s dad donated a lot of money to the school,” Jordana explains.
“I’m so sorry, Poppy, I didn’t mean…”
She shrugs, still smiling that bubbly smile. “It’s okay. I’m fine with Daddy buying my ticket to success. I actually hope to one day be a makeup artist to the celebrities.”
“That’s nice. I’m actually going to be attending there also.”
She claps in excitement.
“Do you like Sarah Lawrence?” I ask Jordana. “I have a cousin who graduated from there.”
Cody laughs a little. “Yeah, she loves it there.”
Jordana smirks and takes a sip of her wine.
“One of the main reasons Jordana wanted to go to Sarah Lawrence was because it had a woman’s name, which symbolized for her that it would consist of the purest of Aphrodite’s from all around,” Cody explains.
“So, you’re gay?” I knew it.
“I don’t really like labels, but yes,” she answers. “I do prefer the female sex over the other. Men are too incompetent to satisfy me and I’ve always loved the softer luxuries of life in every form.” She speaks with confidence and ease. Her light yet raspy voice adds to the self-assurance that Jordana is a woman of her own nature.
“And she likes seducing straight women,” Poppy adds.
“Don’t worry,” Jordana says, but I’m not. I’ve kissed a girl before, but the only soft body I love is mine and I love a man’s hard exterior to wrap itself around me. “You’re very gorgeous, but what Poppy fails to understand is that I seduce straight women who are seducible. I have a pretty accurate gaydar and I can tell you would be curious but not about that life,” she says with a flirtatious smile. “Like, for instance, everyone thinks Cody is gay, but really he is just a timid boy with a phobia for the female anatomy.”
“The hell I am.” Cody’s face turns sour and we laugh. “Everyone is just racist because of the fact that I’m black they all think I should be a confident, gangster wannabe, urban, bad boy or whatever stereotype bullshit. I can’t help that I am in tune with my more sensitive and sophisticated side.”
“More like Carlton Banks side,” Jordana says.
“She seduced me,” Poppy says still nonchalant and bubbly and I am not surprised by this.
“Poppy doesn’t really count,” Jordana laughs. “She sleeps with anyone.”
“Daddy says you should at least try something new once. How else would you know if you like it or not?”
“I’m sure he was referring to categories like food, places, and things. Not threesomes with strangers and drugs.”
“Well, either way, I think I have a very healthy sexual appetite. I’ve come a long way from my baiting days.”
“Baiting days?” I question her.
“I used to be bait for anyone Scarlett had to blackmail.”
My eyes widen. I’ve heard some pretty fucked up things in my life, but this is at the top. Okay wait, maybe not—now that I think about the time one of my friends got mixed up with a stable boy, a history professor from Cambridge and a lot of ketamine. I think a horse was involved too.
“What have you heard about the kids that live with Ms. Eleanor?” Jordana asks.
“Well, that you’re all the spawn of Satan and that you destroy everything you touch.” I might as well be truthful. I was never much for sugarcoating and I realize that they aren’t either, which I absolutely love.
“Well that’s dramatic but closely accurate.”
“I’m trying to remember your group name… the…” I trail off.
“The Sinful Saints,” Jordana answers. “That name is very cheesy and bland by the way.”
“I like it,” Poppy pouts.
“What about you, Cody?” I eye him curiously.
“Cody is the only one that hasn’t really done anything here. Well, except August too,” Poppy adds. “You know, because he’s disabled.” Her face is sincere. I can tell Poppy may not be the brightest, but she is the sweetest even when it comes to rude things spilling out of her mouth.
“So what about his brother, Hugo?” I ask, loving the way his name sounds. Why is that?
They all remain silent, Poppy and Jordana glancing at each other with grins and Cody shaking his head.
“Well, Hugo is probably the one they refer to as the devil himself,” Jordana informs me.
“Is he that bad?”
“Define bad,” Cody drawls.
“Hugo has been here since he was fifteen. He came months before me,” Jordana says. “He is the soul prodigy of Scarlett.”
“Okay, who is this Scarlett?” I finally ask, having heard this girl’s name for the third time now.
“Scarlett Brayson, one of the original Sinful saints along with Hugo and August’s older brother. She had been here since she was twelve or thirteen. She’s truly the devil in a woman’s body or if we want to go all out, she is the woman who gave birth to the devil. She kind of mentored all of us a little. Her reign of terror will forever be the best and worst of her.”
“Soooo…” I trail off. “And I say this with complete shock, yet respect, she basically taught you how to be promiscuous, manipulative, and heartless beautiful creatures.”
“Aw,” Poppy’s adorable innocent looking eyes light up at me, her bottom lip poking out. “You think we’re beautiful?”
“She taught us how not to be bored.” Before I can answer, a voice appears, adding to my theory of beautiful creatures because when I turn around, I am in awe. A tall boy is leaning against the wall staring at us with his hands in his pockets. First thing I notice about him is the sunglasses he wears. Very nice pair of shades he’s rockin, but that beauty of the aviator sunglasses is not what is getting my notice. The black tinted lenses are hiding his eyes and I want to see his eyes. I want to see everything about him. He’
s that bloody alluring. I fancy him right off the bat. Fuck me, I knew it! I knew when I heard his name I was going to be in deep shit!
“Hugo, nice of you to join us,” Poppy confirms who he is. I observe his attire and the way he stands. He stands cool and proud. Arrogance pours out of him, but not the kind that makes him a brute. He is intelligent, maybe too intelligent. And I dare to suggest that the most violent thing about him is his mind.
“Hello all.” He doesn’t smile nor scowls.
“Hugo, this is our new roommate, the lovely Juliet Spears,” Jordana introduces me and I stand up as he walks to us. His jawbone is strong and his lips have volume. I’m very sure they’re soft. Instead of giving me a proper hello, he grabs the cocktail—my cocktail—and drinks from it. My lips part slightly and oddly; I want to both slap and kiss him. He knows that’s my drink. He wants to test me, see what I will do. See how much I can take. He’s a person who loves to test people. Too bad he doesn’t know that I’m very good at this game. He sits the drink back on the table and faces me. I know he’s staring at me through his shades. I can feel his concealed eyes burning into me. He licks his lips, not forcibly, but naturally enough to light my fanny on fire. Shit!
“Hugo Mandrake.” From the way he says his name to the way he extends his hand for me to shake… it is the definition of smooth.
“Lovely to meet you.” I place my hand on his, the skin soft which is to be expected, but by the look of the way the v-neck frames his chest, that body is very hard. He smells of wealth. People of wealth always have a distinct smell to them. We smell of the usual high-end fragrances and soap delivered from other countries because we are led to believe our skin is made of gold and needs to be treated like gold. Really all we need is fucking Dove to be okay. But if I ever may be so bold about Hugo, the lad does seem to be made up of gold. The type of gold that is first dug out from deep within the dirt; gold that has not been weighed or cleaned yet. Still, when you dig it up, you can’t help but to love it because you know that you have found the one thing that may change everything.
He leans forward and gently kisses my hand. The gentle touch of his lips almost causes my knees to buckle, but I’m not for the theatrics and this guy is clearly over the top.
Sinners & Saints (Sinners & Saints #1) Page 4