by Max Henry
I: It was Libby’s idea for everyone to flood the newsfeed with submissions.
What the hell? Why would she do that?
G: Did she say why?
I: Figured it would drown out the others. She’s adamant it was Colt who did it.
I: I’m so damn mad, G.
The threat of these ruining her career is a legitimate concern.
G: She needs to tell everyone to take them down.
I: It won’t happen. I tried.
G: When is she heading to Arcadia?
I: 7ish, I think. She doesn’t care that this could ruin me.
G: Did you expect her to?
It’s a harsh question, but fair. This is Libby, we discuss; the girl doesn’t have a compassionate bone in her body.
I: I guess not. Richard’s here.
G: Why?
I glance at the others, making sure nobody pays me any mind.
I: I don’t know. Got to go.
Her profile says she’s no longer online. I kill the screen and lift my gaze to find Barrett watching me. He rises from his seat, seemingly invisible to the others as he crosses the room to where I sit.
“What’s the story?” He jerks his chin toward the abandoned device, settling into the seat beside me.
The guy is pure sinful perfection, cut from a rough-hewn cloth of mystery and dark intensity. I totally understand why Lacey had a thing for him for so long, but I can also see why he never lasted on anyone elses radar.
Riverbourne parents like clean-cut boys—the ones who ooze conformity and reliability.
Barrett isn’t one of those.
“Who says there’s a story?”
He reaches lazily toward me, using his thumb to smooth out the frown lines in my brow. “Because you’re stressed, Greer.”
I don’t get sexual vibes from the touch—quite the opposite. I get the impression that Barrett understands more than he lets on.
“Why didn’t you tell us you had a problem?” I ask softly. “You know we would have helped.”
He shrugs one shoulder, hand dropping back to his lap. “Because it wasn’t a problem. At least, not for me.”
“You were in a drug rehab facility,” I deadpan on a whisper. “How are you okay with that?”
Inquisitive dark eyes hold my own. “People with a problem don’t know why they use drugs. I do.”
I can’t say I agree with the idea, but he seems steadfast in the belief. “Why do you, then?”
He retreats into himself with a sigh, slumping down the sofa cushions. “Did you know that if you fail a school year due to a learning disability, the faculty force you to repeat it over and over, with or without extra tuition, until you manage to pass? But if you fail it due to personal reasons—including addiction, which they class as an illness—then the school grant you a special concession, and your grades are adjusted accordingly depending on how you performed in previous years?”
“No,” I say quietly. “I didn’t.”
He gives me a shy smirk before fixing his gaze to the floor at his feet. “I’m dyslexic, Greer. I know what I’m reading, but it gets jumbled on its way to my brain. The same in reverse. I know what I want to write, but I can’t get the comprehension down.”
“You take drugs to hide why you’re failing?” I ask.
He nods. “Partially. I started to numb the shame, but after a while, I realised that people blame the habit and overlook the fact that I’m fucking stupid.”
“You’re not stupid.” I turn my body toward him, wrapping both hands around his forearm. “Don’t say that.”
“Not what my father said.” He twitches a sad smile. “I got a message from Carly. She’s fine. Not allowed out of her room for a week, all privileges revoked, but otherwise unscathed.”
I acknowledge the change of subject as an indication he’s done talking about something that obviously hurts. “She’s generous to do that for you, huh?”
“She gets it.” His lips press together flat, highlighting the patchy stubble on his jaw. “When she’s stoned, she forgets what her step-father does to her.”
I don’t know what to say. Especially when a line about another girl’s life highlights how good mine is. So, my parents want me to live by their rules and dictate who I see? It sucks. Massively. But behind that cold exterior, they love me.
They always have.
Things could be so much worse.
“You good?” Barrett frowns, ducking his head to level our gazes.
“I feel like such an entitled jerk,” I admit. “I ran away from my parents because they banned me from seeing Colt.”
He snorts and then smirks. “Wow.”
“Not just that,” I say. “Mum said they’d send me to a boarding school overseas if I defied them and saw him again.”
He repeats his previous, “Wow.” This time it’s a lot deeper. Shocked. “You’re not entitled because you’re mad at your parents for wanting to send you away.”
“When people like Carly have way worse to deal with?” I reason.
He shrugs. “We’ve all got issues. Who are we to judge what a person deems as important to them?”
I have nothing. All I can do is lean in and rest against Barrett’s side, welcoming the arm that shifts to lay across my back.
I love my friends. My true friends.
To some, we may seem spoilt and out of touch with the world. But this is our world, and, to us, it means everything.
However painful it can be.
COLT
Imagine my surprise when I step outside to avoid the suffocation of Greer’s ignorance to find a passenger waiting in Derek’s car.
With my shoulder against the stone entrance column, I wait, arms folded for her to realise she’s not alone.
Marion Mayberry isn’t the kind of beautiful woman that stops a nation. She’s not the type you find on billboards in the latest designer clothes, or silently standing at her husband’s side like a trophy at a charity gala. She’s also not the kind to run her child to sports on the weekend or organise a bake sale for the PTA.
She’s an eclectic mix that makes her robust enough to endure the shade thrown her family’s way due to Derek’s chosen career, as well as soft enough to ensure her son doesn’t get forgotten in the rush of their busy lives.
She’s the type of woman that is the silent powerhouse behind their husband’s success—the reason for his empire, and yet never receiving a single accolade for the achievement.
I release a laden sigh, stiflingly aware that she’s not about to glance my way any time soon. She doesn’t look up as I approach, nor shift from her most unladylike pose with feet propped on the dashboard either side of the steering wheel, seat reclined.
I arrive beside her half-open window and reach out to tap my knuckles lightly on the surface.
Marion jolts, hands scrambling as her phone lands in her lap, before jerking upright and tugging her bunched dress over her knees.
The window glides the rest of the way down. “Colt. Can I help you?”
“I didn’t know you were here.” I note that her shoes remain in the footwell of the passenger side, yet she’s made herself comfortable in the driver’s seat. “Why didn’t you come in?”
“This is Derek’s project.” She kills the screen on her phone and sets the device in the centre console. “I’m not interested in the politics of you children.” She forces a smile. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologise.”
“He said he wouldn’t be very long.”
“I think we’ve about reached the point of his visit.” I lean an arm on the roof of the Bentley, eyeing her long, tanned legs. “I’m sorry that my cunt of a mother ruined your marriage.”
Her eyes grow wide. “Oh, my. Colt. That’s quite the statement.”
Ever the poised one, Marion.
“But no, she didn’t ruin it.” Her head turns, eyes shrewd as she studies the house. “Not if I have any say in this.”
“What do you plan to do?” M
y heart swells at the thought of my mother getting what’s hers.
“Nothing you need to worry about, honey.” Her smile is a lot more genuine this time. “How’s your sister? I heard she’s back with your father.”
“She’s happy now.” Unlike me. “She needs to get through tonight, and then I’m sure it’s all up from there.”
“It truly is unfortunate the things that were done to her.”
“It is. But it’s also the way of the world, right?”
She twists in the seat to peer up at me better. A soft curl of amber hair frames her oval face. “What do you mean, Colt?”
“The weak always go after the strong, right? The jealous try to cut down those who possess the qualities they desire.”
“Perhaps.” She shrugs, her light blouse shifting on her tall frame.
“It’s my experience, anyway.” I place the other arm on the roof as well, leaning down so that my face is level with the window. “People resent those who’ve achieved what they don’t have the patience for, so they exact revenge by trying to take the other person’s success away.”
She frowns.
“I’m sure my mother thought if she ruined your marriage and stole your husband, she’d fast-track herself to the life she failed to achieve.”
“That’s a very forthcoming assessment.”
“I’m right, though, aren’t I?”
She glances away, watching Arthur cross over to his car. “Perhaps.”
“Where is she now?”
“Your mother?” Her eyebrow arches.
I nod.
Marion draws a deep breath, her hand lifting to curl that loose lock around a slender finger. “I’m unsure. She followed us most of the way back, but then she turned off. As long as she never shows her face in Riverbourne again, I don’t care where she ends up.”
“Curious.”
Her vibrant umber eyes find mine. “Do you have any other family she may have gone to?”
I shake my head. “My grandparents have a house that we’re staying at, but that’s deep in the city.”
“I know.” The ice in her statement sets me on guard.
“But, my grandparents live out of the area now.”
“I’m sure she’ll let you know she’s okay.” Marion places a gentle hand to my upper arm, offering a soft smile.
I hold her gaze, impassive. “That’s not my concern.”
She frowns, failing to say anything further before a deep rumble from behind me has my back straightening without hesitation.
“What the fuck are you doing, Colt?”
“Nothing at all.” I turn to face Derek, slinging my hands in my pockets. “Just chatting with your wife to save her being bored while she waits on you.”
“Is he bothering you?” He cuts his black eyes to Marion.
She answers with the softest inference of sarcasm. “Not at all, my darling.”
“I told Greer we’d take her home,” he informs his wife.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. “Why?”
I swear the fucker grins when he turns his head my way. “Because she needs to deal with her parents, Colt. Not everybody can run away from the chaos they cause, knowing others will clean up after them.”
“Clever,” I drawl, “from a man who needs his wife to babysit him so that she knows he won’t run off to fuck his mistress again.”
The gravel of the driveway crunches in quick beats as he advances. “You watch your fucking mouth.” A thick fingertip hovers millimetres from my nose. “You best remember who it is that works to get you exonerated of your charges.”
It takes everything in me to hold my ground. “It’s the least you can do after you ruined my father’s life.”
He reserves any comeback and opts instead to grin maliciously, head slowly shaking while he backs away.
“Ten more minutes, Marion.”
“Of course, dear.”
TUCK
I get to my feet the second I hear a motorbike wind down outside the house. Beau stays seated, turning to watch me as I head out the door.
Sure enough, Cate turns her Suzuki to stop behind Maggie’s mum’s car, Mandy seated pillion. She rocks it back to rest the bike on the stand properly, then killing the engine.
Mandy removes her helmet, passing it to Cate so she can climb off the bike that wasn’t made for two. With a hop to regain balance, she straightens with a giggle and takes the helmet from Cate again.
“Hey, Tuck.”
The fact she smiles has to be a good sign. “How’d you do?” I nod to Cate. “Hey.”
“She came around sort of,” Mandy answers as she makes her way across the drive. “Amber understands how fucked up this all is, but she still wants to go ahead with the party.”
“Christ’s sake.” I run a hand over my head.
“Everyone else inside?” Cate asks softly to my right.
I nod. “Everyone who’s here so far. Johnson and Ed shouldn’t be too far away.” In all reality, I expected them here half an hour ago.
Makes me wonder what the fuck they’re up to.
“Cool.” Cate settles her helmet on the edge of the porch steps, sliding her boots off and leaving them alongside as well.
I watch her as she goes through the motions, picking up with Mandy. “Did Amber say why she wanted to go ahead if she knows it’s likely to go to hell?”
“She wants to make an impression before she goes to the city for school.” Mandy folds her arms; dark hair swept over one shoulder. “Both a final impression for us, and the first one for them.”
“She tell you what she wants to do, then?”
Cate slips inside, greeted by Beau and then Lacey.
Mandy eyes the open door, lowering her voice to say, “Honestly, I think she has it in for this Libby girl too.”
“Why?” They’ve never met as far as I know. Maybe they saw each other at the party we crashed, but when the heck did they get in touch with each other?
“I don’t know.” She jerks her chin toward the house. “Should we go inside?”
“I s’pose.” I let her go first, using the delay to draw a deep breath and remind myself that everything will come clear soon enough.
I don’t like feeling off-guard. As though I’m unprepared. With the facts, I can reason away any nerves with logic. If I knew what Amber wanted with Lacey, or what this Libby girl has up her expensive sleeve, I could pre-empt the fallout and plan for the inevitable.
But when I’m in the dark?
I’m vulnerable. Weak.
Likely to let everyone down.
I step in the kitchen to find James shrugging on a jacket, Maggie’s mum standing at his shoulder.
“Right,” he says, eyeing me. “I’m setting some ground rules.”
“Should we wait until the others get here for this?”
“No,” James states. “Time is of the essence now. It’s already afternoon, and bugger all has changed since this morning.”
What was the point in calling them here, then? I lean against the wall, arms folded over my chest.
“I’m heading out to meet the other parents at Dee’s property. The lot of you—including your friends, Tuck, when they get here—are to stay put.”
“What?” Maggie breathes, while Beau shifts his focus to Maggie’s mum for confirmation.
“We feel it’s better if you’re not involved,” she explains. “I know it’s not what you expected,” she says, hands raised as a rumble of discord circles the room. “But given time, you’ll see we did this with your best interests at heart.”
“What about our races?” Mandy asks.
“They can recommence next year,” James answers.
I glance at Lacey, finding her chewing her bottom lip furiously. Her narrowed gaze bores into her father, folded arms tight against her chest. “This isn’t fair. You’re punishing all the kids out here for our mess.”
“I didn’t say it was fair.” Her old man challenges her scowl. “But i
t’s right. Ask yourselves.” He addresses the whole group. “Is a bit of fun competition between guys and gals worth a potential record with youth justice?”
“You’re assuming we’d be the ones to instigate trouble,” I gripe. He knows that’s not our intention.
“I’m pointing out that you don’t have to be to blame to get lumped with the consequences of your peers,” James snaps.
“In all fairness, Dad, this isn’t your court case we discuss, so don’t saddle us with your burdens.”
If I could slap a hand over Lacey’s mouth to shut her the hell up, I would. But I can’t imagine it’d go down well.
“Fine.” His dark eyes harden. “How about this, then? You’re grounded, Lacey. No going anywhere without my permission for the rest of the school year.” He cocks his head. “Will that convince you to stay home?”
“What the hell?”
“Charlotte here will make sure none of you others decide to take matters into your own hands.” He turns to Maggie’s mum and adds. “Call me if they do so much as sneeze out of turn.”
“What about Colt?” Lacey grumbles.
“I’ll deal with him.” James zippers the coat and steps towards the door. “If there was ever one time in your goddamn dramatic lives when you need to listen to the advice of your elders, this is it. Just stay put and stay out of trouble. Let the grown-ups deal with this one.”
He exits with a slam of the door.
A stunned silence blankets the room.
“This is bullshit,” Mandy mumbles, storming into the adjacent living room. “You know, I don’t have to listen to him, right?”
Maggie’s mum watches her with a concerned frown. “You do, love. We’ve spoken to your parents, and they’d rather you stayed away too.”
“They didn’t say anything to me about it.” She stands with arms crossed, a frown deep on her brow.
“Call them if you like,” Charlotte offers with a sigh. “They may not have had a chance to talk to you about it yet.”
Mandy stays silent. She hasn’t been home most of the day, she knows it. There’s every chance her parents were waiting to discuss it face to face.
“I think it’s fair,” Cate offers from her spot in the sun near the kitchen window. “I don’t mind doing our race another weekend.”