WRECKED
C H A R M I N G K N I G H T S #1
SHANA VANTERPOOL
Wrecked (Charming Knights #1) Shana Vanterpool © 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced whatsoever in any manner, including electronically or mechanical, photocopying, or by an information and retrieval system, without written permission from the Author/Publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s overactive imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to the actual persons, alive or deceased, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
1. Charmant, Georgia—Fiction. 2. FICTION—Romance/Contemporary/Mature YA fiction. 3. Globe Tonight—fiction. 4. Goodford Finance—fiction. 5. Charming High School—fiction. 6. Teens—fiction. 7. Cage “Wreck” Wreckmond—fiction 8. Hallie Goodford—fiction. 9. Charming Knights—fiction. 10. Charming Stars—fiction. 11. Sparrow Cliff—fiction. 12. My Cage Is Magic (poem)—fiction.
ISBN-13: 978-1720536048
ISBN-10: 172053604X
KINDLE ASIN: B07F5TSPV5
Cover Design: RBA Designs
Stock photo © Shutterstock
Shana Vanterpool © 2018 “My Cage Is Magic”
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
My Cage Is Magic
CHARMING HIGH
SMILE AND CHARM
SPARKLING WATER
OBSESSION
SLICK, WET, AND SWEATY
CAGE
AIR QUOTES
BRIGHT SPOT
DARK KNIGHT
BEAUTIFUL TEMPTATION
PART OF THE STARS
THE FIRST TIME
SECRETS AND BOURBON
MRS.
DARK AND BEAUTIFUL
AT THE END
THIS CAGE IS MAGIC
LOVE AND FIGHT
WE’RE ALL IN A CAGE
TOGETHER
Epilogue-WRECK
Epilogue-HALLIE
Stay Connected
“Oh, this darkness, it hides a lot from me.
In the shadows where I thrive, I’m not trapped within these binds.
Oh, this light, it tells me everything.
In the light where I lie, I’m fighting every battle I didn’t decide.
Oh, this hate, it blinds everything.
Ripping at my ire, staining me with fire.
I fight my cage, for there is life within my rage.
Oh, this love, it shows me everything.
About myself, about the world,
About him.
In the passion, my cage is magic.
And I never wanted free.”
—SHANA VANTERPOOL
“My Cage Is Magic.”
Written for Wrecked
for the Stars and the Knights
1. CHARMING HIGH
Hallie
i was born trapped in a cage.
A ruthless, beautiful thing. The bars dripped gold; the paint had never quite dried. My fingertips were stained in amber-hued grandeur from trying to escape. People passed my cage with eyes narrowed in envy. They wanted inside so badly, they didn’t realize there was no way out. They didn’t care. They fell for the lie that gold-smeared fingertips were worth more than the ability to fly away.
My life was that lie.
I rubbed my eyes tiredly and then moved on to my temples, massaging them to seek some relief from the headache pounding in my skull.
It was the end of the day at Charming High. And let me tell you, the name was in no way indicative of its true meaning. There was nothing charming about this school, let alone the town. But it was fitting. Everyone in Charmant, Georgia was a liar. It ran off money, the largest liar of them all. Not so much the money itself, or even the amount we had, but what we had to do to keep it, and the pain it caused to hide those lies.
Not to mention what the occupants of Charmant did to keep those who did not have money out of it.
I knew I had no room to talk myself. I was a product of this town as well. Had the same money, good or ill-gotten, and I toted the same nefarious upbringing around everywhere I went. But I had choices, too, that money had nothing to do with.
I chose not to be my wealth.
I chose not to be my father.
I’d never known him absent of his riches, but I’d heard my mother speak of that man. They were older than your typical parents who had eighteen-year-old’s. I was brought in this world through a surrogate. I’d never been allowed to know by who, and at that point it was probably better I didn’t know. I was eighteen. I didn’t feel like anything was missing. In fact, I felt too full at times.
Full of pressure.
Full of responsibility.
Full of emptiness.
Professor Seneca undid his tie and appraised his trigonometry class. Like most of my teachers, he was simply a mannequin. Sure, we were smart, but none of us would fail. Our parents donated enough money to keep Dean Judy comfortable and happy, and as long as that was true, straight A’s were sure to follow.
And though most of us rode this privileged wave, and I in no way pretended not to be on it too, I didn’t want to wake up one day and know nothing because Mommy and Daddy bought my education. Money didn’t buy intelligence, it bought influence, and they were not the same thing.
“Trudy?” Professor Seneca said, clearing his throat that late afternoon. “What is a tangent line?”
I refrained from snorting. Trudy Lowell was definitely someone who didn’t bother absorbing the lessons her parents bought. She was beautiful and wealthy and that was enough for her.
“I don’t know, but I’m about to go off on a tangent with this boring ass lesson.” She pushed her buttery gold hair over her shoulder and her horde of rich dolls joined in with her cackle.
It’s not boring. She’s just stupid.
Honesty wasn’t mean when it was true.
Plus, Trudy’s been a thorn in my side since we were children. A quiet, passive aggressive thorn. She hated anyone who didn’t love her. I’ve seen her skate through life and think she deserves the ease. She doesn’t. But her parents make sure it stays that way, because if they don’t, it will reflect badly on them.
This town was made of mirrors.
Professor Seneca looked exhausted and defeated. He probably hated this job, but he wouldn’t quit. It’s easy money. Pretend to teach, cash the check. I know he’s considered “poor” in this town, upper middle-class everywhere else probably. He drove a Range Rover. Gasp. The horror of a car under one-hundred grand.
Sometimes I wondered if the reason I hated this town so much was because of the people in it, or the fact that I was stuck here. There was no way out of this hazy mirror town. I was destined to inherit the life my father built. No ifs, ands, or buts. I understood it, accepted it, and resented it.
When class was over, I took my time gathering my things. The relief on Professor Seneca’s face was comical. I waited until the room was empty to speak up. “You should try something easier on her next time. Like eyeshadow pallets and soft foods.”
He didn’t dare respond to that directly. He wiped the chalkboard off with a glance barely thrown over his shoulder at me. “You’re always perceptive, Miss Goodford.”
That time, I snorted. “I’m not going to run and tell my father if you don’t agree with me, Professor. You know there are teachers out there who have power? They can actually fail us and give us detention. Doesn’t that piss you off?”
He sighed, sinking down in his chair and flipping through a stack of papers absentmindedly. “No.”
I wanted a reaction out of him. It was a bad habit, at least to everyone else who suffered through it. I was so used to fake interactions, that anything real, even bad, was better than empty.
“It should. She’s half your age and a total moron. You’re probably smarter than most of the snobs who run this private school. I can tell when you teach that you know what you’re talking about. Tell me how you really feel.”
His eyes shot to mine and flashed a minor spark of what he probably really felt working here. Hatred and disgust. “You may see yourself out.”
I leaned forward on my desk, palms flat on the smooth wooden surface. “You’re a terrible example for me to engage with. If you keep your emotions trapped inside, you’re going to become the same empty, fake clone like everyone else in this city. What if I don’t want to become that?”
“Then you shouldn’t have been born a Goodford.” He pushed away from his desk and walked over to his door, hand motioning for me to leave.
He’s right.
I shouldn’t have been a Goodford. I was nothing like the rest of them. I wasn’t afraid to feel, to desire—but there was nothing I could do to change my path any more than he could.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and pulled my skirt down past my knees once I stood. “You should give me detention.” I was throwing him a bone here. “I deserve it.” I stood before him, studying the gray in his mustache.
“What would your father say about that?” His dull brown eyes bored into mine.
“He doesn’t have to know.” I shrugged casually. Asking for detention wasn’t insane. It was borderline masochism. “I can do something to really piss you off. How about I swear?”
“Resenting this life won’t make you any less a part of it.” He gave my lower back a nudge out of the door. “I’ll see you on Monday, Miss Goodford.”
I dropped my game once I stepped foot out of his classroom. “You too, Professor. Tell your wife I said hello?”
He offered a small smile. “I will. And Hallie, just because you’re stuck in it, doesn’t mean you should stop fighting it.” He closed his classroom door in my face.
Professor Seneca totally got me.
I’d asked my father—yes, I’d been known to ask for a perk here and there—to put me in his class all four years of high school after Professor Seneca looked me in the eye and didn’t back down. It only happened once, but I was an inquisitive fourteen-year-old and he’d had no problem supplying me with these small fights that kept me going.
When I got to the parking lot, it was buzzing with life I did not feel. I got into my Audi R8. A gift from my father for my eighteenth birthday. I’d asked him for some father-daughter time. He’d chuckled like I was a cute prop and gave me the keys instead. Don’t think I didn’t get the underlying message. Get away from me you emotionally dependent creature. The only reason he had a kid was because he had no other beneficiary other than my mother. He preferred a son to boot, and instead, he got me.
Hallie Goodford. A girl.
Even Father wasn’t powerful enough to sway X and Y chromosomes.
“Poor Daddy,” I muttered to myself, pouting out my window as I got onto the main Canyon IA road that led to our property.
Sometimes, I felt like a split-personality.
Sweet, good, and all-obeying.
Other times, I felt sour, bad, and disobedient.
I wanted to break the bindings put in my veins, but they weren’t mine to break, and I’d never quite figured out how to be someone else anyway.
But I would still go down fighting.
2. SMILE AND CHARM
Wreck
I was an entitled, mildly sociopathic, empty bastard.
I’d accepted it, everyone else should, too. In my world, knowing who you were made being who you weren’t easier to choke down. Things were the way they were. The sky was appreciated only when it wasn’t a storm. The weight of control was admired until it crushed you. And I was Wreckmond, even when it stormed. Of course, I had a first name, but I’d done my best to keep it on my birth certificate where it belonged.
On a single piece of paper that held no true bearing on my soul.
If I even still had one.
I stood on the field, sweat dripping down my face, as my team ran suicide drills. I’d needed a break. My muscles burned. I’d been practicing every single day since I got nominated for captain last year. That spot was supposed to be mine.
Not Kellen Noxmoore’s.
So, I was a self-entitled prick, but I earned my spot as captain, and Coach screwed my plans over royally. He bent me over and took my virginity a second time. Louanne Emrette took my virginity the first time. Wasn’t a fond experience, not by any means. I’d thought hooking up with an older chick would make it better. But it only made me aware of how little I knew about sex and the height with which I needed to build my walls.
Jacking off to porn hadn’t made me prepared for the feeling of a pussy for the first time. I came in less than a second. I was fourteen. Give me a fucking break. Luanne should have known better. She did her best at ruining my reputation before it’d even gotten started for my five seconds of forced pleasure.
I’d gotten her back for what she did, and my reputation today was a record I showed off, but not one I was proud of. I wasn’t a helpless fourteen-year-old inexperienced teenager anymore. I was an eighteen-year-old handsome, rich son of a bitch. My pride was well sated.
Key word, was.
I eyed Kellen Noxmoore on the field as he sprinted back and forth. I wanted to break his fucking legs. Hand them to him wrapped in a black bow and a screw you letter.
“He earned it, Wreck,” someone said, saddling beside me on the benches.
I respected few people in this world. In my experiences, money left little room for respect. Greed and desire made for a lot of empty relationships. But Geoff Ripford, aka “Rip,” wasn’t one of them. I wouldn’t go as far as to say I liked him—if I respected few, I liked even less—but I could manage being in his presence for long periods of time.
“And I didn’t?” I spat, closing my water bottle with a rough slam. I tossed it into my gym bag and cracked my knuckles together.
“No one’s saying you didn’t work for it. But he’s been working toward it for two years. Sitting on that bench waiting to lead. You came in last season, and much like you live your life, thought you deserved everything under the sun because your father lied to you when you were born and told you that you were better than everyone else.” He slapped me on the shoulder with a wide, indulgent grin.
The guy loved my misfortunes, any and all.
“This is the best thing I’ve seen all year. That pissed off pissy look on your face.” He laughed, the bastard actually laughed. “Look, Wreck. We’re like brothers. I know you wanted this position, so did I, but we didn’t get it. So, don’t go getting any ideas and turning this team upside down. I know you despise being rejected.”
Was I supposed to have a moment of inner reflection and understand the moral lessons of hard work all of a sudden? Lick my wounds and try harder next time? I snorted. “What am I supposed to do? Smile like a dumbass and let Kellen tell me what to do all year?”
“Yes.”
I glared openly at him, releasing the rage inside of me through my eyes. Typically, that rage kept most people at an emotional distance. Not physically, because I couldn’t have everything pushing everyone away, but I could have nothing real if they didn’t get too close. But Rip didn’t react. He wasn’t scared of me. He was scared enough of himself. “Yeah? Why?”
“Because this is my way out of this life, and you know it. I’m looking at an all ride scholarship for football in college. I can cut ties with my dad and his evil money grubby bullshit. I can go pro. Make my own living doing what I love. I’d like to do it with my best friend. You keep me focused.”
In all hon
esty, Rip’s life was what Charmant, Georgia was built on. Evil, greed, and power. His father, Joseph Ripford, worked closely with mine, so I knew firsthand how dark their touch could rot. Rip wanted a way to succeed without involving his father. I was in too deep to ever free myself from Owen Wreckmond. I was born into his power and his power was born into me. I accepted this life for what it was. Rip didn’t.
“I piss you off,” I corrected, wiping my face down and heading back to the field. “Which in turn reminds you of all you don’t want to become. You’re welcome.”
He smirked, taking his mark on the line beside me. “The truth and speculation blur the same lines.”
I took off for the other side of the field, pumping my legs to get away from him and his philosophical garbage.
After practice, Coach rounded us up to congratulate our new captain. I was a fantastic actor. I could smile and charm. I could speculate the truth just as good as Rip could. I patted Kellen on the back and told him how proud I was, how honored I was to work with him as my new captain. “There wasn’t a better man to lose to.”
The truth was, I thought he was a weak lackluster player who rode the bench long enough to move up. Nothing more, nothing less. Most of us in Charmant got by this way. Throwing our money and influence around like it meant something. I knew it didn’t, but I knew it did at the same time.
“Celebration party this weekend at my place?” I offered in the middle of a huddle, earning a collective cheer from the team. “We’ve got to welcome our captain in real good.”
Kellen was still grinning like a douchebag after I walked away. I dropped my smile and grabbed my gear, heading to the locker rooms to shower and change. Smiles were bullshit anyway. They were a mask to hide behind, using happiness as a shield between your gnarled dark parts. My gnarled dark parts clawed at my insides, hungry for blood on most days, but my father had my balls in his fist, and whenever I let my demons out even a little to breathe, he squeezed so hard they reverted inside my deep, dark places.
Wrecked: A Novel (Charming Knights Book 1) Page 1