I smile, squeezing his fingers before letting go and shifting to open the door. I get out of the car, the cold hitting me and my body shivering. The opening in the tree covering above shows off brilliant white stars on a backdrop of rich black. I love the mountains, I decide.
Before closing the door, I lean down and find Drake’s face. He is waiting, still staring in my direction.
“Where’s your cabin?” I want to know where he is; hopefully, his rental is close to this one.
He cocks a sheepish smile and then points towards his window. A short way up the mountain through tree branches, lights blink through the windows of the adjacent building.
“You’re kidding.”
He shakes his head ‘no’. And I laugh.
“You were pretty confident your mountain surprise would work out in your favor, weren’t you?”
He shakes his head ‘no’ again. “I wasn’t confident. I just had a little hope.”
“Like kings who live in castles and own entire towns need hope.” I wink.
“I may not have a castle if my father has any say,” he jokes, though the statement rings hollow. “And maybe I wouldn’t need hope if you were a normal girl, Tarryn. But you’re special.”
“I’m not, Drake. I’m just like every other girl.”
I close the door and step back. He shifts into reverse and the car moves down the driveway to curve onto the mountain road.
I don’t walk into the cabin until I see him turn into the next driveway.
13.
B I R D I E
C A S T L E T O N
[perspective, third]
-Friday Morning-
“I’m not here to have dinner with you, Mother.”
Byron used to be kind. Once upon a time. A sweet fair-haired child who always stole from the cookie jar and begged the chef to make more ‘choc-choc nums’ as soon as they were all eaten. And Birdie had been a doting mother, up until he was old enough to learn his letter. And then something had changed.
“Then pray tell why you are here, Byron?” She tapped her can impatiently against the floor. Birdie was uncomfortable today, and not even her favorite chair, hot water bottle, and the rare glass of daytime gin were helping the pain.
“I am here because I have news, news best served in person. Though I would have been within my right to simply send a letter and be done with things. With the way you have treated me, Mother, I daresay you deserve little more.” Byron passed the floor of the sitting room. He was sweating, obviously overheated thanks to the full suit and blazing fire.
Nell had asked if she should douse the fire, but Birdie was cold. She was too old to prioritize anyone’s comfort but her own. She'd paid her dues over the years, suffering through many a trial while her husband followed his dreams.
There were days lately, and they were happening more often, when she wished she could just snap her crooked fingers and join her Hiram. In a perfect world, she would no longer be involved in the affairs of Hiram’s legacy. Castleton Industries would be under the steady care of her son.
She could not go over these things again.
Her head and heart were tired from the strain of it.
“Fine, Byron. Tell me your news and let’s be done with it.” She leaned the cane against her chair and picked up the silver bell on the end table. She rang it twice sharply. Nell walked in moments later, eyes moving from Byron to Birdie’s face.
“Yes, Mrs. Castleton?”
“Can you put another log on the fire, Nell?”
Nell nodded, flicking a glance at Byron’s red, sweaty face. But Birdie was her employer, and her word was the rule of law. She grabbed two smaller logs from the stack near the hearth and made short work of stoking the already-burning wood before angling the fresh wood atop the pile. Flames kissed up the fresh bark quickly.
“Anything else, Mrs. Castleton?”
“No, Nell. That’ll be all.”
Her loyal companion moved soundlessly out of the room.
Birdie had no idea what news could possibly be so important that Byron would stop by her house today on his way to the airport. He was to be in Morocco by tomorrow morning. It was an eight-hour flight. A sensible man would be saving his energies for the trip.
“Jesus, Mother, it’s boiling in here,” Byron barked, loosening his tie, and stripping out of his suit jacket.
“I am comfortable,” Birdie lied, since her entire body ached, and she was far from comfortable.
There was no denying that she was getting to the point that she had to secure Castleton Industries properly so it would survive past her death. She could not let her Hiram down by letting ill-prepared people ruin his life’s work.
Byron scowled, falling against the nearby sofa with a graceless plunk.
Birdie sighed. “Either say your peace or leave, Byron. I am too tired for your nonsense. And if what you have to say regards the changes to my will, then I can save you the effort. I have no plans to alter my will. My decision on the matter is final. It is time, Son, for you to spread your own wings and earn your place in this world. Your father was always too soft.”
“Maybe Father was too soft, Mother, but you have been driving me towards your expectations from the minute I could walk. You were my task masker, more than you ever were my mother.” Byron spit out the words angrily.
For a second, her son looked like she remembered. Pale blonde hair, wide curious eyes. Hand in the cookie jar.
What he said was not untrue, however. Birdie had tried to balance out Hiram’s gentle hand, and thus she’d become the disciplinarian. She had ruled with a strong hand, wanting her son to grow into a man who was worthy of inheriting his father’s kingdom.
“Even with my marriage, you have driven me with your expectations. Geneva and I were never in love, Mother. I thought I loved her, because it’s what I should do. It’s what you wanted me to do. She had connections. It was a smart match. And like a fool, so desperate to fucking please you, I went along with it. And maybe for a few years, things were fine. But ‘fine’ doesn’t make a marriage.”
“Be cautious of your next words, Son. They will very well be your undoing.”
“My undoing?” Byron barked out a laugh, sitting forward on the sofa, gaze a little crazed. “You have cut me out of the will. I am a placeholder for my own son. The son I have supported his entire life. The son whose mistakes I have cleaned up after, repeatedly.”
“You mean, his mistakes that I have cleaned up after,” Birdie countered. She knew what was coming. And his decision would cost him, preciously. He would have little left once the airtight prenup was put in effect. The only thing that might save him was Geneva’s habit of never being around. She had distanced herself from the marriage long before her son had started his affair with that dreaded woman in his office. The woman who, if her PI Randall was correct, had finally hooked Byron and convinced him to make the biggest mistake of his life.
“You think of yourself as some sort of savior, don’t you, Mother?” Byron stood again, nervous energy making it impossible to sit still. “Some Joan of Arc put on this earth to keep the Castleton men on the straight and narrow.”
“If the Castleton men kept themselves in check, I would not need to be so involved in their lives.”
As if he could no longer contain himself, Byron finally blurted out the words that he’d come here to say. Rip the bandage off. Stop delaying the inevitable.
“I’m leaving Geneva. I have already spoken with the divorce lawyer I secured last year.”
“It will ruin you,” Birdie said simply, not mincing words.
“You have ruined me, Mother. I’m finally saving myself. I’m getting out of the goddamn shadow of my dead father.” He turned to face her, hands balling into fists.
“You will have nothing from me if you choose this path, Byron. You will be removed as trustee of Castleton Industries. You will lose your retirement pension, which is gross plenty to retain your family’s current lifestyle.”
&
nbsp; “My family? What family, Mother? You despise me, which you’ve made quite clear. My wife is nonexistent. My son is a royal fuck-up who doesn’t respect me.”
“Do you ever think that perhaps all of that is the product of your own actions, Byron?”
“The trickle-down effect is a brutal thing, Mother,” Byron snarled. “I have lived my life in the fashion that was imposed upon me.”
“You will have nothing, Byron.” Birdie, to her credit, was nearly pleading with her son now. She truly believed he was throwing his life away. She wanted to save him from himself.
“I will have someone who loves me!” Byron shouted, so loudly that the chandelier above seemed to shift above his head. He shook the room with his angry resolve.
“Fine,” Birdie nodded, giving up. She had warned him; it was all she could do.
Byron’s legs shook. Waves of relief flooded through him. It was said. It was over. “I’ll go to Morocco and finish the business deal, but that is the last of my blood you will have for this damned business, Mother.”
“While you are gone, I will appoint a new trustee. Then you are free to do as you will, Son. But once you have cut ties with the business, you will not darken my door again. Your father would be ashamed.”
“My father would want me to be happy.” Was the last thing Byron said to his mother before stalking out of the room.
The front door slammed seconds later.
And the sound was like the closing of a coffin.
Birdie was tired.
Full of a regret that she didn’t understand.
And if she’d been a different person, a softer person like her long-gone husband, she might have hobbled after her son and hugged him.
But Birdie’s skin was diamond hard, her bones platinum. She had carved out her place in a world full of men after Hiram had passed away. She’d protected the memory of him, kept the walls of his dream standing against all odds.
Byron had been the face of the business, but she had always been the power.
She rang the small silver bell again and Nell hurried into the sitting room again. “Yes, Mrs. Castleton?”
“Get Randall on the phone. I need him to track down Shamus Miller, the retired CEO of CrewWorx.” Birdie thrummed her finger against the chair’s arm, thinking. “I’ll also need to move up my appointment with the estate attorney. My son will be leaving Castleton Industries and changes needed to be made.”
Nell looked shocked, but she knew better than to pry. “I’ll get right on it.”
“Thank you, Nell.” Birdie smiled gently. “I can always count on you.”
When she was alone again, Birdie stood up. Her legs shook and she had to lean heavily on the cane. The one she was using today used to be Hiram’s. It was an antique from Russian. Siberian pine shaft, mother-of-pearl, and turquoise handle. Masonic symbols stamped into the metal that circled the wood below the handle. It had belonged to a doctor, a long time ago, according to the dealer.
Hiram had loved it instantly.
And she’d bought it for him instantly.
God, she missed how things used to be. Life had been better with Hiram around.
She wondered, in passing, if he would blame her for how their son and grandson had turned out.
14.
D R A K E
-Saturday in the mountains-
Sasha: You might as well just come over. My parents have been wanting to meet you forever anyways.
Steve shoved the phone at me. “Well, should we go over?”
“I don’t know. Her parents knowing we’re here might put a damper on things.” The less parents knew, the easier it typically was to sneak around. Though I wanted to be on the up-and-up with Tarryn from now on, I also didn’t want to lose... momentum. We were just starting to recover. I didn’t want to complicate the matter.
“Or it’ll make it easier to hang out.” Steve started typing back.
“What are you telling her?”
“That we’ll be over in ten.” He hit send and shot me a mischievous smile. “Things are good with you and Tarryn now, right? Sasha isn’t going to try to kick my ass again over bringing you here?”
“Things are better with me and Tarryn. I can’t guarantee you’re not in for an ass kicking from the overzealous goth girl.”
“Chill with the nicknames, man. I really care about Sasha.” Steve looked at me seriously before cracking a new smile. “Now get dressed. Can’t leave my girl waiting. Meeting the parents is a big damn deal.”
I watched Steve nearly skip his way to his bedroom.
I needed to be a better friend to the guy. He wasn’t the dumbass he used be anymore. And if Steve, who used to drink an entire keg while doing a handstand at the lake party, was being a defensive, good boyfriend, then there was hope for me after all.
So, I wouldn’t give Sasha anymore shit. I’d respect her, not only because she was Steve’s girlfriend and Tarryn’s friend, but because she was a human being in her own right, worthy of it.
Once we walked the short way down the mountain to the cabin Sasha’s parents rented, I almost regretted my new resolution. Because there was Sasha, black jacket and bright yellow nails, standing on the front porch staring daggers at me.
“Well, she might have forgiven you,” I said dryly, “but she sure as hell hasn’t forgiven me.”
“Oh, damn. That’s second day of her period anger,” Steve breathed out.
I gave him a sideways glance. Steve really had changed.
“So, what you’re saying is that I really shouldn’t poke the bear today?”
Steve stopped walking, so I did too. He turned to me, reaching to grab both of my shoulder and spin me to face him. “That’s not even remotely funny.”
“I’m kidding. Relax. I vow,” I held up three fingers in a salute, “to treat Sasha with kid gloves. No jokes. No nicknames. Nada.”
“I’ll help her kick your ass if you break that promise.” He released me and started walking again, but not before giving me a last warning glare.
Sasha had already disappeared back into the cabin.
*
I’d been on my best behavior from the second I’d walked through the cabin door.
And I had been as polite as fucking pie to Sasha herself, even though she looked at me like she wanted to kill me half the time.
Steve was surprisingly charming, joking with Sasha’s parents about what a coincidence it was that our cabin would be so close to theirs. And, like most adults, Sasha’s mom and dad didn’t look too deeply into Steve’s words, or they probably would have realized it was more than a coincidence that their daughter’s boyfriend had rented a place only a hundred feet up the mountain. I mean, putting that two and two together didn’t take many brain cells.
Parental obliviousness was the bread and butter of teenage joy though.
In fact, Sasha’s parents were more than willing to let Sasha and Tarryn go on a double date while they stayed behind and had the cabin to themselves. Shudder. I tried not to think about old people having sex, but the vibe as her parents side-eyed each other lustfully was like a Vegas sign, flashing too brightly to ignore.
As soon as we were back outside, Sasha whirled on me.
Tarryn touched her on the shoulder, as if knowing what was coming. “Sasha, it’s all good.”
“It is not,” Sasha growled, before directing her attention to me. “You are a piece of work, Drake Castleton! After what you did to her, you make it your mission to reel her back into your dirty games. You were just supposed to talk last night and get some closure. But she comes back mooning over how you’ve committed to being a better fucking person and she’s going to give you another chance.” She waved her index finger manically in the air and she pressed closer to me. I backed away, hands up. With her cropped jet-black hair and intense eyes, Sasha looked like a demonic force.
“I didn’t reel her back in, and I’m not playing any games.”
“Bullshit, Castleton. You’re a grade A manipulator.
All the Castletons are, but you’ve always been next level! You know my old bestie won’t even come back to River Valley to visit me because of how you treated him? I won’t let you do the same thing to Tarryn.”
“I’m hardly going to run Tarryn out of town, Sasha.” I blushed, feeling guilty. She'd backed me up against her car and I nearly tripped trying to get around it. Tarryn and Steve were standing in the background, both looking unsure of what to do.
“Graduation is next semester, Castleton. And I swear on the souls of every goth kid everywhere, that if you don’t treat her right until then, I’m going to kill you. And after graduation, hopefully she’ll be smart enough to go to college far away from you!” Sasha seemed to run out of steam then, finally deflating and lowering her hand. “Just don’t be a dick, Castleton.” She stalked around me to get into the driver’s seat.
“So... are we taking two cars,” I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling like I’d just been in a car crash courtesy of the angry femi-nazi. Of course, true to my promise, I only said the nickname in my head.
Sasha started her car and rolled down the window to yell. “We are taking my car, Castleton. This way I can leave your sorry ass behind when you piss me off.”
“Oh, fantastic,” I breathed out. I hated being a passenger. And I had every reason to believe that Sasha would, in fact, leave me at the ski lodge if she got irritated. Considering how pissed she already was, it wouldn’t take much to throw her over the edge again.
“Two cars would be fine,” Tarryn said, walking up to me and linking her arm in mine. She smiled at me, an apology in her eyes. I shrugged. It’s not like I didn’t deserve a little comeuppance.
“No!” Sasha insisted. “We are taking one car. And you’re in front, Tarryn.”
Balls: A Bully Romance (The King of Castleton High Book 4) Page 11