Done Deal (Arcadia High Anarchists Book 5)

by Max Henry

  “Not much,” Christian downplays. “Just a wee family secret of ours.”

  “Oh, yeah?” James chuckles, dropping the wood in a second wicker basket. “Can’t be worse than the one involving Alicia.”

  “Dad,” Lacey warns.

  “Possibly.” Christian stands, stretching his arms over his head. “I might make myself some lunch if that’s okay?”

  “Yeah. Help yourself.” James waves an arm behind him, gesturing toward the kitchen.

  Christian leaves the room, the clink and clatter of him moving around the kitchen following soon after. I stand a few feet from Lacey, yet neither of us seems able to say anything. We just stare. Shell-shocked.

  Derek Mayberry has a daughter.

  Christian Mayberry has a sister.

  And until now, they appeared to be the only ones who knew.

  COLT

  “Drop me off here.”

  I’m surprised Greer hasn’t worn a hole through her shirt; she’s spent the whole ride here twisting it mercilessly between her hands.

  “And make you walk the length of the driveway?” I lean forward to stare out at the grey sky. “What sort of man would that make me when it’s begun to rain?” Light droplets dot across the windscreen.

  “Colt, no.” There’s definite panic in her tone, the way her words waver even before her wide eyes fix on my profile. “Don’t make this worse than it is.”

  “Relax.” I reach across and set my palm on her thigh. “I won’t get out of the car.” Unless I have to.

  “Thank you.” Her soft palm covers mine. “I know this can’t be easy.”

  “Letting you go when I’ve got no idea when I’ll see you again?”

  She smiles, sighing out her nose. “No. But yes.” Greer’s head relaxes against the back of the seat. “I meant biting your tongue. I know you’re as pissed as I am that they’re so hard on us.”

  “They have their reasons.” Of which, I can’t understand. “What the fuck?”

  I reach the end of their long drive to discover we’re not the only visitors to the Roberts household.

  “Is that your mum’s car?”

  “And fucking Derek’s.”

  “Why on earth are they at my house?”

  My thoughts exactly. “We’re about to find out.” I kill the engine and reach for the door.

  Greer stills me with a hand to my arm. “You said you’d stay in the car.”

  “When my mother is here?” I snort. “I don’t fucking think so.”

  I jump out of the Explorer before Greer can say anther word and head for the front door. Her feet scrabble across the paved driveway behind me, and she swings around in front when I reach the steps, hands to my chest.

  “Just promise me you won’t make a scene.”

  “I can’t.” When Alicia is involved, there’s no telling what shit she’ll pull.

  Her hands press harder, brow firm. “If you go in there and start an argument, you prove my parents’ point about you.”

  I stare into the warm flecks of her eyes and flinch. She’s the only goddamn person who can do this to me, who can douse the rage that burns hot.

  “Please.”

  “Fine.” I sigh. “But I can’t promise I’ll be nice.”

  Her lips kick up on one side. “I wouldn’t expect you to be.”

  Greer spins and leads the way inside. The moment she pushes the heavy timber door open, the conversation echoing off the pristine entrance tiles stops.

  “Go see who that is,” Greer’s dad instructs.

  Seconds later, we’re met with her stone-faced mother. “Oh. It’s you.”

  Warm, much? “Now, now, Mrs Roberts.” I taunt. “That’s the sort of greeting I’d expect from my cold-hearted mother. No need for competition.”

  Greer stiffens beside me, her hand gentle against my back in warning.

  Her mother regards me down the length of her nose and then turns without uttering another word.

  We traipse into the open-plan living area behind her and find the rest of the ramshackle party seated at the table.

  Including Marion.

  Greer’s mum retakes her seat near the head of the table, beside her husband—not a word spoken between the five adults. All stare at us as though we have the answer.

  “Who’s going to be the one to tell us what the hell is going on here?” Greer asks.

  I find a position against the front of the enormous marble kitchen island, leaning an elbow on the spotless surface. Standing mute seemed too redundant; I’d rather assume a more disinterested stance to save them thinking I give a fuck about this tea party.

  I do. Enormously. But I don’t want them to know that.

  “We required a witness for some documents.” Marion speaks softly.

  “Do you need anything else?” Greer’s mother snips. “We’d like privacy.”

  “I need to know why my bitch of a mother is here,” I state, eyes narrowed on the home-wrecking whore. “What has this got to do with her?”

  “None of your business,” Mr Roberts bites from the head of the table.

  “It involves my family.” I gesture to the table. “I’d say it’s my business.”

  “It’s okay.” Derek lifts a hand to silence any rebuttal. “There’s no harm in him knowing.”

  Alicia reclines on her seat; one arm slung casually over the back so she can see me where I stand behind her. “It’s a non-disclosure agreement. About the affair.”

  She looks far too happy with herself. “How much did you get?”

  “Enough,” Marion answers, urging me to leave it.

  I do. But it seems my girlfriend has questions of her own. “Why bring it to my parents?”

  “They needed witnesses,” her mother reiterates.

  “But why you?” Greer repeats, low and forceful.

  She’s so beautiful when she’s fired up. Damn.

  “We can trust them to keep a secret,” Derek explains.

  “Can you?” She scoffs at the lot of them. “The same people who want to dispose of their daughter for daring to chase her heart are trustworthy people?”

  “That’s no longer happening,” Derek states.

  “Your parents have been trusted before,” Marion explains gently, ignoring the silent standoff between Greer and her husband. “Now, we need to finish going through these documents, and it’s essential we get it right. Could you two give us privacy?”

  Greer’s lost for words. She’s dreaded this moment since she left yesterday, built it up in her mind, and now that she’s here … nothing.

  If it were anyone other than Marion asking us to leave, I’d pitch a fit. But I respect her. And I know she wouldn’t ask us to walk away if she felt it disrespected anyone.

  “Come on, Greer.” I hold my hand out and move toward the stairs.

  “Now, you wait a minute.” Her father pushes out from the table with enough haste to tip his makeshift throne. “You, young man, are leaving.”

  “Like hell, he is.” Greer is positively feral.

  I smirk over top of her head, relishing the rush of blood to his face.

  “He is not welcome in our home.”

  “This is not a home,” Greer hollers in return. “I will discuss this with you later.” The pitch of her voice drops. “You are required with your guests.” She spins and marches past me, barking a quick, “Are you coming?”

  If I wasn’t in love with the girl before, I most definitely am now.

  Damn.

  TUCK

  Life couldn’t get better than this.

  Seated on Mandy’s back veranda, with my girl in my lap. A blanket tucked around the both of us while we watch the flames lick the edges of the fire pit.

  These are what nights in the country are made from.

  “Can you believe Johnson and Ed?” Mandy laughs, tossing another piece of scrap timber on the fire. “That girl will be wondering what the hell she got herself in for.”

  “I get the sense she can handle a bi
t of trouble,” Beau says dryly.

  He sits with Maggie balanced on a cushion between his legs, bent over her to shield her from the cold. She seems content, one hand trailing fingers up and down his unbroken arm.

  “You’re pretty quiet over there.” I lift my chin toward Cate.

  She looks up from the phone in her hands. “I know.”

  “As though that’s anything unusual,” Mandy teases, flopping down on the seat beside her.

  She’s right; it’s not. But Cate’s a different kind of quiet tonight. A distracted quiet.

  “Anyone heard from Amber today?” Maggie asks.

  Nobody says a thing.

  “I heard from Willow,” Lacey offers instead. “She’s been talking with her some more today. I think as much as she wouldn’t admit it, Willow’s looking forward to being her mentor.”

  “Such a weird outcome,” Mandy muses, reaching down to retrieve her drink.

  “Not really.” Lacey adjusts herself to sit a little straighter. “All she needed was the right attention.”

  Mandy stiffens.

  “Not that you weren’t giving it to her,” I quickly add.

  “Shoot.” Lacey gasps. “That’s totally not what I meant. I mean, she needed people to see her differently, and it’s hard for others to do that when they’re used to you being one way.”

  “Like you,” Cate states, setting her phone down.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I hope Willow manages to straighten her out.” Mandy turns the non-alcoholic beer in her hands. “It hurts that I couldn’t do it, but she deserves more than what she gave herself.”

  “Why was she so bitchy?” Maggie asks.

  “Self-defence,” I say.

  “If she pushes others away, they can’t get close enough to hurt her,” Mandy elaborates.

  “Like her mum did,” Lacey finishes.

  “Must have sucked, being forgotten about in the middle of that divorce.” Cate stares over the dark lawn to where the soft sound of grazing cattle drifts in on the breeze.

  “Cry me a river,” Maggie drones. “My dad left, but you don’t see me going around making everyone’s lives hell.”

  “Their split was a bit different,” Mandy softly says. “She never said much about it, but Amber always gave the impression it was quite violent before her mother had enough.”

  “Where did they come from again?” Cate frowns. “I always forget.”

  “That’s because she never said.” Everyone stares at me. “What? I remember stuff like that.”

  “He’s right,” Mandy affirms. “She never told us. Just that it was a fair way away from here.”

  “Probably so that the dad never found them,” Beau surmises.

  “Probably.” Lacey flops back against my chest again.

  I tighten the blanket around us and whisper in her ear. “Heard from Colt?”

  She nods. “They’re okay. He didn’t say any more, but apparently, everything is fine, and his exact words were stop worrying, have fun, and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “We?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.

  “Yep.” She nods. “We. Got to be a good sign, eh?”

  “Suppose we’ll find out tomorrow.” I give her a light tickle.

  Lacey swats my hand away, sighing as she rests her head back on my shoulder. “I feel bad for her, though. I wish I could do more to help.”

  “Be a friend,” I say. “At the end of the day, that’s all anyone needs, right?”

  It was all Amber needed. A friend whose opinion of her wasn’t jaded by history.

  “Yeah. It is.” Lace’s hands find mine beneath the blanket, and she links her fingers.

  It’s a stretch for her tiny hands to span mine; her slender fingers pinched in the gaps. But I love it. Just another funny little quirk that reminds me of my role.

  To protect her. Comfort her. To always be there to shoulder the weight of the world with her. Not for her. Nah. My girl’s strong enough to handle what comes her way—I learnt that these past weeks.

  She cares about the people she loves and, what’s even better, is she also cares about the ones who hurt her.

  It’s a level of empathy that’s rare to find these days—a quality I admire.

  “What are you thinking?” she whispers, head rolled so she can peer up at me. “You’re so quiet all of a sudden.”

  “Not much, baby.”

  “Liar.” Her hand peeks out from beneath the blanket, and she stretches up to caress the side of my face.

  “Jesus,” Maggie groans. “You two want a room?”

  “Not yet.”

  Lacey giggles, slapping the side of my face softly. “Hey!”

  “What?” I chuckle. “You gonna tell me you weren’t hoping that’s how the night would end?”

  “I didn’t say that.” She shrinks down, hiding her face beneath the top of the blanket.

  Maggie bursts out laughing, Mandy grinning as she lifts an eyebrow at me.

  I told Lacey that eventually, the drama that’s given her so much stress wouldn’t seem to matter as much, and at the time, I figured it would take months to reach that stage. But as I look around at my close circle of friends, all having a great time, I realise something.

  Maybe we’re not all here at the same time—Johnson and Ed are still in the city, Amber God knows where—but that’s okay.

  Going our separate way doesn’t mean the death of what we have. It’s part of growing up, of building a future on our own terms.

  Our paths will cross less often, but all that will mean is the times we do get together will be that much more special.

  I’ve made friends for life here at Arcadia. And as all friends do, we’ve had our ups and a few pivotal downs.

  But we’re here. Stronger for it, and with a voice that’s grown bolder and surer of what it is that we want to say.

  Beau got his girl. Maggie found someone who sees her and appreciates her for who she is. Mandy discovered purpose through what happened to her, using her experience to help other girls through trauma—girls like Gayle. And Cate? Well, our secret squirrel doesn’t let much on, but I guess by the smile on her face, she’s found her rainbow in the storm.

  Admittedly, Johnson and Ed are still the same troublemakers as always, but something has to give us a sense of home, right?

  And that’s what this will always be for us.

  Home.

  Where the heart is.

  STILL WANT MORE?

  Make sure you’re subscribed to my mailing list here to get the latest updates on future spin-off books and maybe even a sneaky bonus chapter or two!

  Keep reading for a sneak preview of my next release, BLACK WHOLE HEART >>

  ONE

  Roman

  One month to fuck as many European women as possible. Was it too much to ask? Cool, recirculated air hits me in the face when I swing the door to my apartment open and sigh. Home. At least, the closest thing I have to one. It’s a place to sleep, to eat, to rest—nothing more. I don’t have a home. A home would entail all those societal norms, like a wife, children—things of value that I actually give a fuck about.

  Never had any of those things, and don’t intend on starting now.

  My bags hit the dark hardwood floors with a loud whack after I let go, flexing my hands. They ache, maybe from the need to cart my shit up from the car myself—already too used to the hotel staff around to help—or perhaps from the day of rock-climbing I managed to fit in yesterday in an attempt to distract myself from this.

  Coming back.

  Earlier than I wanted to.

  All because Mommy said jump, and I asked how high.

  But shit—old money comes with caveats, and one is that I follow her rules, obey her commands. A small price to pay for a life where I’ve never had to lift a finger to earn the five figures that regularly grace my balance sheet.

  My boots hit the skirting board with a thud, sliding into base like a batter hell-bent on a home run. My feet are alread
y thankful for the respite from the stuffy, designer clothes I have to wear to keep up appearances—also one of Mom’s rules. The cotton shirt goes next, discarded on the perfectly polished floor as I head for the open-plan living area.

  The opening bars of Rob Zombie’s “Lucifer Rising” ring out from my phone. I pull the device out, swipe to answer, and set Mom down on top of the lacquered black side table.

  “Just walked in the door.”

  “Good.” Her tone is short and clipped. The closest she’ll ever get to being maternal with me. “You have a business class ticket booked on the last flight of the day. Ten-fifteen.”

  I run my left hand down my naked stomach while I lift my right wrist to check the jet back Tag Heuer Carrera. Jet black like everything in my life. Exactly how I like it.

  “That gives me a little over an hour, Ma.”

  “Perhaps, then, you should have left Sweden yesterday like I instructed you to.”

  I choose not to answer. Arguing would only validate the fact she’s right: I pushed my schedule to the limit out of selfish need.

  The lovely Sigrid wasn’t about to fuck herself now, was she?

  “How long will I be there?”

  “Three days at most. The papers are drawn up, Roman. All you have to do is sign them.”

  “All I have to do …”

  She makes it sound so easy. As though signing away your right to what’s yours by birth is as simple as wielding a pen and walking away. No remorse. No nothing.

  She forgets the kind of bullshit classes she made me take at University. I have no “real world” skills. I’ve got absolutely no fucking chance of making a living once they cut me off.

  They: Mom and him, Tennison Carpithua, my stepfather.

  “Don’t be difficult,” Mom snaps, her voice reverberating off the matte gray walls. “Tell me how your apartment looks.” She changes the subject as though we had simply discussed the traffic that I encountered on the ride home. “I hired you a new housekeeper to come in once a week while you were gallivanting around Europe. Has she done a good job?”

  “It looks as though I don’t live here,” I observe, running my eye over the perfectly polished and arranged furniture. Even the faux fur rug seems as though there isn’t a single hair out of place.