by Max Henry
“You propose we offer them all a free hug?” Colt drawls.
“Hardly.” I roll my eyes. “But I think compassion and making them feel accepted might be worth a try. Trading blows only makes this whole thing continue to spiral out of control. We have to try something different.”
“You kids use Dee’s party as a chance to find common ground, you think?”
“We know the Chosen have their agenda for this,” I say. “But the masses will come out this way looking for a party. So why not just include them in one?”
“That’s way easier said than done,” Colt points out. “Not everyone will be as open to the idea of inclusion as we are. You’re dealing with people as stuck in their ways as the KKK.”
“Bit of a drastic simile, don’t you think?” Dad chastises.
Colt shrugs. “First one that came to mind.”
I sigh. “We’ve got an afternoon to figure this out.”
“I need to talk to the other parents,” Dad says, pushing his chair back. “I’ve got no idea what your mother has said to Libby’s mother, or Greer’s, but I think it would be beneficial if I had a one on one with the fathers.”
“Including Derek?” Colt narrows his gaze.
“He’d be where I start.”
GREER
My gaze drifts to the hastily packed bag on my passenger seat as I hit the open road. I never once in a thousand years thought I’d be the one committing the cliché movie moment of running from her issues with her life condensed into a single bag.
And yet, here I am.
I’d be a bald-faced liar if I said I wasn’t scared. I’m terrified. Behind me lies everything I know. The life I’ve lived since my memories begin. I don’t know what’s ahead of me, and I have no idea how I’ll be received.
All I know is I can’t continue to live somebody else’s version of my life without expecting my soul to die.
Until Lacey left, it was as though I moved through my days with blinders on. Everywhere I looked, everywhere I went, was the influence of money and privilege. I had no idea what else there could be because nobody exposed me to the alternate. It’s easy to convince yourself that the road you travel is the best one when you daren’t step foot on another.
Visiting Lacey in Arcadia opened my eyes to how satisfaction truthfully looks. It isn’t the ability to buy your way out of a situation, or holding influence over your peers.
It sure as hell isn’t a speeding Porsche overtaking me before a blind corner and then forcefully applying anchors.
I slam my foot down on the brake pedal and lurch forward in my seat before I cause the kind of damage I couldn’t work off in a single semester.
The Porsche blocks my attempt at overtaking once we hit the next straight, a sleeved arm extending out the window to point angrily over the low roof of the car. Pull over.
Damn him.
I’ve never let Christian boss me around before, and I’m not about to start now.
Hand on the shifter, I cruise around the next sweeping bend and then check my mirrors. The road ahead is clear, as is the space behind me should I need to abort my move. My Audi pales in comparison to the power of his 911, but be damned if I won’t try.
I slam down a gear and give the engine as much power as I’m able before overdoing the revolutions and then swerve right. His engine roars beside me when he does the same trick, our front wheels evenly matched while I push for the dominant position.
Another corner approaches.
For a fleeting second, I consider a swift game of chicken to force him to let me go. But one question sits proud at the forefront of my mind: is freedom worth my life?
I screw this up now, and not only would I likely involve an innocent oncoming car, but I wouldn’t walk away with a second chance at taking my life back for myself.
Live to fight another day. With a frustrated cry, I ease off the gas and feather the brake, slipping in behind Christian in time to take the bend.
And be rocked by the gust of a passing stock truck. Shit.
He brakes heavily again—this time, without enough space for me to react in my current state of panic. The grill of my little car slams into the tail of his, hooked up long enough for him to swerve us onto the verge. Grass kicks up beneath tyres that still turn too fast, the jolt of uneven ground bouncing me in my seat as we come to a dirt-streaked dangerous stop.
My chest still heaves when Christian arrives to knock angrily on my window.
I depress the button, jaw slack while I try to catch my breath. He shakes his head, blond hair unruly across ice-blue eyes as he glares down at me with sheer frustration.
“What the fuck was that, Greer?”
Tears immediately leak; the adrenaline comedown is a shit of a thing. “I don’t want to go back.”
“So, you’d rather die?” he hollers. “Get out.”
I glance up at the stormy gaze fixated on my next move and take in the hard cut of his stiff jaw. “No.” I can’t trust he won’t hurt me.
Quick as a flash, he stabs one arm through the open window and kills my engine. I reach for the locks and manage to engage them before he can lift the handle. An amused smirk tugs his lips, eyes narrowing with challenge while he reaches through the still open window and releases my door from the inside.
Damn, my scrambled head.
“Out, Greer.”
I do as I’m told on shaky legs, gaze drifting up the road toward my diminishing freedom. I need Colt. He’d be able to talk sense into Christian. Be able to take over when all I want to do is scream at the sky.
I’m done with men dictating my every move. Over our out-dated hierarchy.
“Is this the part where you knock me out and stuff me in your trunk?” I quip.
Christian sighs, shoving the sleeves of his fine-knit sweater up lean forearms. “No.” To my utter surprise, he reaches out and tugs me into his tall embrace. “This is the part where I remind you that we aren’t all the enemy.”
What the ever-loving hell?
“You should have pulled over.” His chest shakes with a quiet chuckle before he releases me from his hold to survey the damage to our cars. “I’m relatively sure yours shouldn’t be leaking that.” He gestures to the growing puddle of green-tinted water beneath my engine bay.
“Or doing that.” I take a step closer to investigate the wisps of smoke, or rather steam, that snake out from beneath the hood.
“Shit.” Christian strides towards the door of his 911. “Stay there.”
The terrible sound of twisting and scraping moulded body parts mask the growl of his engine. I wince as the front bumper of my Audi tugs free on the passenger’s side; the paint colour streaked across the tail end of Christian’s sports car.
The steam doubles now that it has twice the space to escape.
“Should I be concerned about that?” I ask when Christian re-joins me on the verge.
“Not at the minute.” He frowns.
A damn car toots as it flies down the road, clearly amused by our overpriced fender-bender.
“You can’t drive it anywhere, though. The radiator is ruined.” He jerks his head toward his ride. “You’ll have to come with me.”
“Not until you tell me where we’re going.” I fold my arms defiantly.
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why?” Head tipped back to stare up at the blue sky, he cries out. “Why do women have to be so difficult?”
“Very funny,” I droll. “But I have a legitimate reason to want to know. You ran me off the road in an attempt to stop me, all so you could—” My wandering thoughts derail my protest. “Actually. How did you know this is where I was?”
“Your mother.” He matches my stance; it’s a lot more intimidating when done with over six-foot of brawn. “They know you left, and when you ignored the calls,”—I pale—“she phoned around to track you down.”
“Damn her.”
He lifts one perfect eyebrow. “If you take after Colt and head for Arcadia, it’ll
only make things worse.”
“She said she’d ship me overseas to an all-girls boarding school.”
He seems impressed. “Severe.”
“So, tell me again why I shouldn’t run away?”
“I’m not saying go home,” he offers gently. “Look, get in and off the side of the damn road. We can continue this conversation in the car.”
“You won’t take me back there?”
He shakes his head, sincerity evident in his steely gaze. “Get what you need out of the Audi; we’ll sort it out later.”
I sigh, figuring my only other option is to walk anyway, and retreat to gather my belongings. Christian lifts both eyebrows when I step out from behind the open passenger door with bursting luggage and an overstuffed handbag.
“You were serious about running away, huh?”
“I’ve had enough, Christian.” I traipse toward his dark blue Porsche, cringing again at the damage. “I want to live my own life.”
“All for a boy.”
I don’t answer until we’re both seated in his plush leather. “What do you know of it?”
“Enough.” His narrowed eyes stay glued to the wing mirror. “You can hide out at my house.” The engine roars when he spins the wheels, kicking turf out behind us to execute a tight U-turn. “I’ll call your mother and explain you’re at mine. She’ll give you a break for a day, at least, in which time we can figure out what you’re going to do about this.”
I frown at the spray of dirt across my poor car as we rocket away. “It’s simple, Christian. I’m done being under their roof if it means I’m a puppet in their pantomime.”
“They won’t accept Colt.”
“I know.” My chest restricts. “I don’t need them to.”
“You simply need his parents to accept you, right?”
I swivel my head to frown at his elegant profile.
“As long as his mother has claws in my father, that won’t happen either.” He glances my way, earnest colouring the flecks of his blue eyes deep cobalt. “You’ve made yourself the newest pawn in her game.”
“It can’t be that dire.” I’d heard of Derek Mayberry’s affair, but never from the horse’s mouth.
“It is.” His tormented son stares solemnly out the windscreen. “If she positions herself in the matrimonial bed, then we’re fucked.”
“I’ve never heard you speak so frankly of your family.” He’s not the kind to show vulnerability—ever.
“Trust me,” Christian chuckles darkly. “It’s as awkward for me as it is you.” He sighs.
I relax a little into the seat, not quite as on edge as I was mere moments before. “Why did you come and get me?”
A flash of white passes through his knuckles when he clenches his fists around the wheel. “As much as I loathe the arrogant jerk my father is, I love my mother, and she loves him.” He swallows. “My mother supports everything my father does. But Alicia.” He spits her name as though the syllables are venom. “She’s nothing but a gold-digging trollop.”
I snort the most ungainly laugh. “A trollop?”
Christian grins, peeking at me in his periphery. “If she got her hands on the family fortune, then she’d be a whore.”
The two of us chuckle at what is a depressingly humourless situation. Derek’s legal empire is worth more than most of the high-level incomes within Riverbourne. Not only is he a tasty suitor for a recently single woman of Alicia’s age, but the power he wields promises security that not many can hope to match.
The fallout from a high-profile divorce would threaten Derek’s career as well as the safety net he built for his family. Plenty of his adversaries in the courtroom would love to represent Christian’s mother, Marion, for none more than a chance at tearing down an enemy while at his weakest.
“Although I understand your concerns with your family,” I say softly, “you didn’t explain what that has to do with me.”
“I need you onside,” Christian answers bluntly as we near the outskirts of Riverbourne.
To my surprise, he takes a left turn before the speed limit reduces for the suburbs.
“I won’t have that heathen woman as my step-mother. Plain and simple.” He reaches out with his left hand to flick through recent searches in the car’s navigation. I don’t recognise the address he taps, racking my brain for memories of what is out this far as the computer maps the fastest route. “Libby doesn’t know what she’s messing with, playing into that crazy Amber girl’s hands with this party tonight. We need to minimise damage to our halls by keeping the riff-raff out of our business.”
“You’re worried that if the peasants catch wind of your father, you’ll lose your hold in Riverbourne?”
He shakes his head, the smoothing the mess of blond on his head back with one hand. “No. I’m concerned that she’s inviting more trouble than she can handle. She barely held off Lacey when she arrived from Portside to lay a challenge. How does she expect to keep half a dozen more at arm’s length if she invites the desperation that bleeds through Arcadia?”
Twisting in my seat, I narrow my gaze. “Why would Libby’s position concern you so badly? You’ve never cared about anyone but yourself before now.”
He slaps a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded.”
“Admit it. If it doesn’t feed your ego, you don’t expend the energy.”
“Normally,” he concurs with a tip of his head. “But this does affect me. I like my ignorant and privileged world how it is. I don’t need the ideals and morals of some country folk muddying the pristine fountain waters.”
“You truly think they’re that much of a threat?”
“Secrets ruin empires, Greer, and our empire harbours four complete generations worth.”
“Keep your friends close,” I say.
“And your enemies out in the middle of fucking nowhere.”
His theory is noble, yet he forgets one crucial thing: our friends are our enemies.
TUCK
“Am I the only one who thinks this is one massive recipe for fucking disaster?” Johnson asks, leaning back in his chair to sling an arm casually across the back of Ed’s.
I drum my fingertips on the edge of the table, the rear legs of my rickety seat rocked back. “You were too integral in the making of this mess to duck out now and leave us to clean up after you.”
“Didn’t say I was out,” he challenges. “It just seems as though there are way too many ways this can turn tits up.”
“Isn’t there always?” Ed mumbles.
Johnson tilts his head to give the guy his full attention.
“I’m just saying that every time the four of us are involved, there are a million variables to consider. But when has it stopped us before?”
“This isn’t a midnight ride or a hunt on old man Fergusson’s block,” Beau states. “We’re talking possibly hundreds of outsiders coming in to fuck up the town. If they move the chaos off Dee’s property, we face alienating our whole generation from the community.”
“Settle down, Hollywood,” Johnson mutters.
“He has a point,” I say, backing up Beau. “If we lose respect now, with the old bastards, imagine how that’ll be when it’s our turn to do business in town?”
“I don’t plan on being here that long.”
My chair legs hit the floor. The three of us lean in to hear what Johnson has to say next.
“I applied for Telford last week. Got to wait for a few to find out if I get in.”
“Holy shit,” Ed says, voicing what I’m sure are all our thoughts. “Your idea, or your old man’s?”
“Both.” He meets our eye in turn. “I want out of here. He thinks I’ll be studying to come back and run the station, but I don’t have any plans on setting foot back in this shithole once I graduate.”
“Come on,” I jest. “It’s not that bad here.”
His scarily void gaze unsettles me. “If you’re happy living out the mistakes of your parents, then yeah, it’s not so bad.”
<
br /> “What will you do once you’ve graduated?” Beau asks.
Johnson shrugs. “Manage somewhere else. I’m not sure yet.”
The conversation at our worn timber table falls quiet for a while. Nobody seems to have anything to add to his revelation. I guess we can all respect his choice, but it kind of sucks. It’s the first sign of what happens when school lets out—we’re all destined to go our separate way.
I can’t speak for the others, but I wasn’t ready to give up our group just yet.
Johnson’s the first to break the silence, perhaps feeling obligated to since it was his detour that muted us all. “You think the old men will have a handle on this, tonight?”
“Nope,” Ed drops without a moment’s hesitation.
“Kids might have caused trouble when they were our age, but technology has changed how we operate a hell of a lot since then,” Beau explains. “I think they’re in over their heads.”
“Agreed,” I say, staring at the healing nicks on my hands. “I think I better head over to Lacey’s and see what she and Colt have managed to do.”
“I don’t like this,” Johnson muses. “Relying on them to calm the cunts in the city.”
Ed frowns, as do I.
“Bit harsh, mate.”
“Those jerks used to be their friends,” Johnson explains, pleading his case. “Why do we suddenly trust Lacey and Colt to have our best interests at heart?”
“Because they’ve put too much on the line to be playing games,” I say. “They’ve alienated themselves from their peers and family. Setting things right isn’t about power for them, anymore. There’s a lot more at stake than we understand.”
“Maybe more important things at stake than our tiny blip of a town, huh?”
Beau shakes his head at Johnson’s thought. “It all ties together. If they want a clean cut from their old life, they need to make sure the new one will welcome them.”
“You make it sound as though they are playing us,” Johnson says. “Why shouldn’t I believe they’re not nice with us just to make their lives better?”
“It’s more than that,” I state.
“How?” he presses.