by L. J. Woods
“Much appreciated.” Though I’ll need more than that. Turning to the wall, my finger trails down the side of a gold-framed photo. This one has an older-looking Isaac with his lips pressed to the Queen’s hand. “Woah, your dad met the Queen?”
Isaac laughs again, a high croaky one. “Yeah and the band but wait ‘til you see this.”
He walks over in beige slacks and matching Gucci shoes. With his hand on the red sofa’s arm, he reaches under the leather, pulling out a square wooden box.
“What’s that?” I ask.
Isaac sits down, positioning the box on his lap before patting the seat next to him.
“Ew, no,” I protest, nose wrinkling at the leather cushion. “I know what happens on these things.”
“We’re not animals,” Isaac protests. He shrugs, putting his arm along the back. “We clean it.”
Rolling my eyes I flop beside him, finishing my slice of pizza and washing it down with another long sip. Damien’s still on my mind when he opens the box filled with papers and photos and other pieces of stationery. Old tickets and postcards with scribbles and hearts.
“What’s all this?” I ask, picking up a wristband that reads ‘The Love House - Admits One’.
He places a photo on my lap, his dad in the middle before I spot someone familiar. “Holy shit, are those the fucking princes? Of England?” There’s a bunch of girls in bikinis around them and what I see behind them makes me gasp. “Are they in a church?”
“St. Pauls,” Isaac corrects before he starts to laugh, his thumb on the photo. “My dad’s a fucking legend. Think he fucked one of them in there?”
“I’d be mad if he didn’t.” Pulling the box on my lap, I start rummaging through, Isaac explaining my finds. A Grammy invitation, original lyrics, and more celebrity cameos in photos. “Isaac, this is insane. I’ve never—” My eyes fall on something that cuts my sentence short, the room closing in around me.
Isaac chuckles. “You got the spins, baby? Thought you were hard up.”
I don’t think that’s the alcohol or the weed. “What does your dad do with Evergreen?”
Isaac’s brows furrow before he leans over, taking the paper from my hand. “Evergreen?” His eyes bounce around the page. “Looks like some bullshit deal with the Huangs and the school. Never heard of it, but my dad likes to invest in everything outside of his own kid.”
Isaac has no idea what he’s looking at so I try to help jog his memory. “Evergreen is in The Grove.”
“What would the school want with The Grove?”
“I’m from The Grove,” I explain, snatching the paper back.
“I know.” Isaac leans forward. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”
“Someone at the school had something to do with my parents’ death. This Evergreen shit keeps popping up. It was my parent’s company.”
“Shit,” he says, smoke coming out his mouth, the room around us like we’re in the clouds. “Well, that’s a hell of a coincidence.”
Sitting up, I look beyond the smoke into those stoned red eyes, “Do you know anything else?”
He looks like he’s thinking for a second before he says, “I’ve got nothing. Have you checked with the school?”
I mutter, “Not like they’d tell me anything.”
“When did you start asking?” Isaac chuckles, his phone vibrating on the coffee table. When he picks it up, I see Allie’s name flash, his thumb on the green button. “Coming to party with your girl? She broke up with Damien.”
“Again?” Allie asks, on speaker-mode.
“For good!” I yell.
Allie snorts, before a sarcastic, “Yeah, okay. Wait, you went to Isaac’s?”
“He’s the last single one of my friends,” I slur. “Besides, you’re probably with Lea.”
“Problem, Medusa?” Lea’s voice is next and Isaac bursts out laughing making it hard to hide my stoned smile. “What? You jealous?”
“Gear down, Satan,” I laugh. “You proved my point. Why are you calling Isaac anyway?”
“Lea’s never tried pot,” Allie says.
“Because I’m not a degenerate,” Lea retorts. “But I’m stressed out about finals and Allie seems sure so I trust her.”
Trust. Something Damien and I can’t seem to figure the fuck out. And once we do, we shatter it.
God, and now I’m jealous of Allie and Lea.
“Well you know where to come for some fun,” Isaac says.
“Lea, what do you know about the Evergreen deal?”
She sighs, “This again? If you want to know anything you’re better off getting someone to ask the school. They’re less tight-lipped than my folks.”
“Shit, that’s what I said,” Isaac comments.
“Fine,” I say rising from my seat and taking a chug of whiskey long enough to make my throat burn. “Let’s go to school.”
“What? Like now?” Isaac looks at his phone. “How are you gonna get in?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, a devilish smile coming to my face. I can see it with my head to the mirrored ceiling. “I’m from The Grove, remember?”
* * *
Okay, I’ve never broken into a school before.
Not with Zane.
Not on my own.
But it’s the only thing to take my mind off the mess of a relationship with Damien. What used to be my relationship. I’ve been way too distracted by said relationship anyway, I should have figured this out months ago.
The weed in my system makes the school property look ominous and deathly under the moonlight. Like a bad night at Hogwarts. But with copious amounts of booze also in my system, I don’t back down.
Climbing over the gate proves easier than I thought. In a black hoodie and matching joggers from Isaac, if anyone has their eye on the school, it’ll be hard to see me. Clara likes to keep her windows open on nicer days. If what Damien says is true, that people in Eden never lock their windows, this should be easy.
Once I’m by her window, I’m in luck. There’s no need to pick any locks or break any windows since her window slides open like a knife through butter. It’s darker inside, save for the emergency lights coming from the hallway but my phone helps to light the way. Switching on the flashlight, more calls, and texts from Damien litter my screen.
CRASH!
A wooden easel topples over when I walk right into it, Damien proving to be a distraction again. “Shit,” I mutter, picking it up from the floor.
Focus, Jo.
Ensuring there’s no security in the hall, I make my way down the dark corridors to the administration office. Everything looks so surreal with blurry eyes and the light of my flashlight. So much so that picking the lock to the office doesn’t seem as bizarre as this is.
After rifling through the secretary’s stuff, there’s nothing that rings any bells—besides the sheer amount of assault reports. That’s when my eyes land on Beckett’s office door. My Docs head in that direction without thinking. After unlocking his door with the bobby pins in my hair, I’m greeted by a whiff of leather and cologne.
His office is bigger than Cindy’s, even in the dark. There’s an entire reception area with leather chairs and fancy-looking glasses. A huge cabinet at the side of his desk is what catches my eye though, and that’s where I start my next search.
I’m not sure how long I spend rummaging through files, my phone buzzing in my pocket the entire time. Then my heart stops, my breath stopping with it as my finger lands on a green tabbed file with the name “Evergreen”.
When I open it up, it all starts to make sense. As much sense as any of this could make. The signs from the last six months whip around my head along with the spins infused by weed and whiskey.
I’m about to throw up from it before footsteps come from beyond the door. It sounds like a lot, heavy thudding coming closer and closer.
In no time, there’s a shining light behind the frosted glass and that’s when I realize files sit all over Beckett’s desk.
I try to put them back as I’m watching the knob turn in slow motion. A window sits behind me but I’m too late to turn its way.
BANG!
A light blinds my eyes.
“Stop right there!”
Fuck.
Twenty
Damien
My strategies aren’t entirely conventional.
While I like a good thrill, this is deeper than that.
“And the name?” The officer looks up at me with an arched brow, as if he knows exactly what a rich prick like me is about to do once I find her.
Giving him a smile with the side of my mouth, I say the name that drives me insane. “Jo Rowland.”
“Damien?”
Turning to my favourite sound, Jo stands under the fluorescent precinct lights. Well, more like sways, but seeing her there fills my heart with relief.
And anger. What the fuck was she thinking?
“Oh, well, this is awkward.” A voice snickers.
When I turn towards the door, Isaac’s staggering in, sunglasses on his face and it’s damn near midnight. He’s the last person I want to see right now.
“If it’s not Perez fucking with me, it’s you, Johnson,” I’m approaching him and he’s lucky we’re surrounded by cops. “Can’t stay away from her, can you?”
Isaac’s forehead wrinkles before he narrows his eyes.
“Don’t be mad that you can’t keep your girl in check,” he says with that slow slur that tells me he’s on a whole lot. “‘Cause if you could …” He smiles and I know him well enough to know his next words are about to pack a punch. “I wouldn’t have been her one phone call.”
“Fuck you, Johnson.” Pushing on his chest, it doesn’t take much for him to wobble to the floor.
“Hey!” The officer behind the desk calls. “Do we have a problem here, gentlemen?”
“Stay out of it, Damien,” Jo slurs, taking her plastic bag of belongings from the officer. My jaw clenches but with the officer eyeing me, I know better than to start a war in a precinct.
I need a fucking joint.
Marching outside, I’m pulling one from my pocket before I hear Jo’s voice behind me, her words still a slur. “So, how do I report a murder?”
My slippers freeze, so does every other muscle in my body.
She wouldn’t.
“Excuse me?” The officer asks.
“A murder,” she repeats like the officer’s hard of hearing. When I look over my shoulder she’s making a stabbing motion with her fist. Hand by her mouth she whispers, looking more and more trashed by the second, “That’s why I was in the school.”
“Are you admitting to breaking into the school?” The officer asks.
Jesus.
“There’s proof!” she yells.
Turning around, I march by Johnson, still too fucked up to peel his drunk ass off the floor. She wiggles when I pick her up from around her thighs, turning for the door.
“Have a good night, officers,” I say with my best smile even though it feels tight and forced.
“You have to believe me!” Jo calls as I push through the doors. When I stand her on her feet she stumbles, pushing against my chest. “I can walk! Why do you always act like I don’t have feet?”
I try to pull her away from the doors so she’s out of earshot of the cops, but she pulls back so fuck it. I’m sparking this joint right here. “What the fuck were you thinking?” I ask, joint bouncing against my lips before I take a long pull. “Were you really about to tell the cops about Marion? Because you fought with me?”
Her jaw works before she crosses her arms. “Of course you think it’s about you. News flash, Damien it’s not always about you.” She grabs the joint from my fingers, taking a long puff.
“Is that why you were in there yelling ‘murder’ for everyone to hear? Is that why you went to Johnson’s? So you could prove that everything’s not about me when you know that shit fucks me up? Pisses me off?”
“You know what makes me mad? I was too distracted by you and your bullshit to find the clue I’ve been looking for.”
“The fuck are you talking about, Rowland?” She sways, trying to keep an eye open. “How fucking drunk are you?” Is that my fault? Is she trying to drown her pain?
“My parents, you selfish fuck! The academy helped cover up my parents’ murder! If you weren’t so busy manipulating everyone around you, you’d know that.”
She chews on her lip, a blur in her eye, and fuck, I want to hold her, I want to tell her that we’ll figure this shit out and give that school what it deserves. Together. I need to reel her back in. I need her to know we’re nothing without each other.
“And you think the Eden police would be the ones to help out a drunk girl from The Grove?” Grazing the back of my fingers against her cheek I can feel the heat of her skin. When I brush a strand of hair out of her eye, she doesn’t stop me. “Face it. You need me, Rowland. Why do you think I’m here?”
“You guys are on a whole other level,” Johnson calls, and when I look over my shoulder, he’s walking towards a black car in front of mine on the side of the curb. “Catch y’all later, I need another fucking drink.”
Jo narrows her eyes, glancing over at Johnson. “That’s the funny thing, Damien. I don’t need anyone. Not even you.”
Turning on her heels, she calls after Isaac as he gets in his car. I can’t help but think how ironic that statement is, how angering it is when she’s chasing after my best friend for a ride. The car takes off and the urge to punch something is strong, my fists tight in my pockets. Is she really done with me?
I can’t let her be. Not like this.
If she doesn’t think she needs me, I can prove it.
It’s not gonna be easy but that’s the thing about Kings, we play hard.
* * *
“Why are we doing this again?” Christian’s question isn’t making this any easier but his presence is.
“For Jo,” Isaac walks into the office, half-asleep when he leans against the wall. “That’s why we’re here at stripper hours, right?” His head hits the wall, a yawn escaping, “For Jo?”
“I thought you assholes were here to help,” I say, pausing my shuffle through the files so I can look at these two idiots.
“How long will this take?” Christian asks. “If I’m not at practice tomorrow morning, my dad’s losing it.”
“You’d think there’d be more security here after Jo got busted for doing the same thing,” Isaac mumbles before he lazily shines a flashlight on my face.
Wincing, my head lowers so I can focus on the task, her voice in my head.
The Academy helped cover up my parents’ murder!
If she’d pick up the fucking phone she could tell me what the fuck that means.
“Isn’t it funny that security isn’t here after Jo got busted for the same thing?” Isaac asks again.
His repetition makes me stop, peering up, his light still in my eye. “Get that fucking thing out of my face.”
“I’m just saying,” he says. “It’s funny.”
“What?” Christian steps forward, ERA hoodie over his head. “What did I miss this time?”
“Why don’t you tell him, King?” Isaac asks. “Or should I?”
I regret inviting these idiots.
Slamming the drawer shut I’m on my feet. “The fuck are you getting at? Quit beating around the bush like a fucking pussy and say it.”
I’m too distracted to give his ass another beating before I head for Beckett’s door. While I’m pissed Jo went with Isaac and not me, a part of me is happy she had someone to lean on.
Turning the knob, it’s already open and it makes me arch a brow. Either Jo was here or Beckett’s “open-door” policy is less bullshit than I thought.
“King called the cops on Jo,” Isaac says following me in the room as I sit behind Beckett’s desk.
“Wait, you what?” Christian’s in the doorway, his eyes wide. “Seriously, dude?”
This is none of
their business and I’m trying my hardest to keep myself in check while I finish figuring this shit out. Beckett’s laptop sits on the table and I flip it open. Locked with a password.
Think. What would this asshole use for a password?
But Johnson’s right.
I did call the cops on Jo after I figured out where she was. One, if someone else found out she’d be in much more trouble than a Johnson ticket out of jail could get her. Two, I wanted her to know she needed me but that didn’t work. So this will.
Typing in “goeagles” doesn’t work and my fist is quick to bang on the keys, the numbers six and nine appearing beside it. Shrugging I press enter and for fuck’s sake, it works. Everything is at my fingers. Access to his photos, private documents and emails.
“King, that’s fucked up.” Christian leans against the door, ankles crossing along with his arms. “Why don’t you tell her you love her like a normal person since it’s clear you do?” He gestures to where I’m sitting, huddled over Beckett’s files like some sort of spy.
“I did. That’s not enough.”
Isaac laughs. He’s one to talk when he fell for my murdering aunt. My eyes catch something in Beckett’s trashed emails that get me to bite my tongue. One from Cindy Huang. ERA’s headmaster is another one of those idiots who forget to empty their trash.
Thank you so much for protecting my child. Consider yourself a true hero.
Rowland’s arrival comes as a sudden surprise and the legacy of our family means everything for our business.
The funds will be transferred shortly.
Thank you.
Sincerely,
C. Huang
Bingo.
The date on the email is shortly after Jo’s arrival.
Is that why Cindy was here with Dad so often? Discussing a cover-up?
After scrolling through more emails between the two, it only solidifies Jo’s belief some more. The last one I come across settles it all.
No one can know my child played a part in their death.