by J. A. Huss
A few minutes later we enter the first-class lounge for the airline and he hustles me into an out-of-the-way corridor. Which means it’s almost certainly the second option.
“Here you are,” the guy says, panning his arms to a room with a phone and a desk. “Your party is already on the line.”
“Thanks,” I say, reaching into my pocket to tip him.
But he puts a hand on my shoulder and shakes his head. “I’m your complimentary attendant, Mr. Aston. Tips are not necessary.”
I sigh. Yeah. That’s not what I wanted to hear.
He closes the door behind him and I step towards the phone. There’s one blinking red light, which I push as I pick up the handset and say, “Five Aston.”
And silence.
“Hello?”
A computerized voice speaks on the other end of the line. “Please return immediately.” The line dies and all that’s left is the annoying buzz of a dial tone.
Wonderful.
I get out my cell, push the contact for the company jet, and go through the automated system to set up a flight.
It gives me a place—not here at Heathrow, more wonderful—and a time. Two hours from now. I hang up and check my map app to find that the airstrip reserved for me is one hour and forty-five minutes away.
Something very bad is happening.
I want to call everyone I care about right now. And I do mean everyone. Every family member, every friend, and… Rory.
But calling her is out of the question. Not even in the same universe.
So I take a deep breath and leave the room, walk out of the lounge, walk through the terminal, and trek all the way back to the front entrance to my waiting car.
There will be a car. I don’t even need to think about it. And sure enough, when I finally step outside, there’s a driver holding a card with the airstrip printed on it.
So I’m not even allowed to give my name.
I walk up to the man and nod. “That’s me.”
“Very good, sir,” he says in a clipped English accent as he opens the rear door of the limo.
I slide in, resign myself to a very long journey, and close my eyes to ponder the many dozens of ways this crisis might change my life.
Every time I settle into this life I was given, this happens. Every single time. And I know—I can just feel it—this time will probably be the upending I never saw coming. I’ve never been yanked away from business like this. Ever.
But there’s nothing left to do but go with it. I have been given orders and in my line of work, you follow orders.
Just part of the job.
The drive is long, boring, and doesn’t end a moment too soon. We pull into the airstrip, the limo stops just a few meters from the plane, and the driver hastily gets out to open my door. I allow that to happen since it’s his job, and don’t we all just want to do our jobs?
“Have a nice flight, sir,” the driver says as I turn away and walk to the jet.
“Thank you,” I say politely. But there’s no way this is going to be a nice flight and I don’t need to see the look on Chen’s face to know that. Everything about this cryptic diversion already told me all I need to know.
“Your grandfather is dead,” Chen says.
Except that.
“What?”
“Come inside. We’re ready for takeoff.”
I don’t even know how I get to my seat. I don’t even remember taking off. I just know that Chen has been talking the entire time and I have no idea what he’s been saying and we’re already in the air at cruising altitude.
“Do you know what to do?” Chen asks, apparently having run out of things to say.
“Yes,” comes out automatically. But I have no idea what to do.
Damian Li is dead. The only grandfather I’ve ever known. The man who picked me up from summer camp back when I was nine and told me who I was. What it meant. How it would impact my future.
Damian Li is dead.
The head of the Chinese mob. The Boss. The Man. The King, for all intents and purposes.
Damian Li is dead.
And I’m his prince. His only male heir, because my little brother is way too young. Waiting in the wings to take over where he left off.
“How did it happen?” I ask, letting whatever pointless things Chen was just talking about fade away.
Chen looks at me with sad eyes. He’s half-American, but he’s got way more Chinese blood in him than I do. Damian was only half and my mother just one quarter. I’m… an eighth Chinese, I guess?
They will never accept me. Ever. I look way too much like a spoiled American boy. Way too much like my father. And this is just the start of a very long, uphill battle for a job I never asked for, never wanted, and would do just about anything to get out of.
No, I decide. We don’t all just want to do our jobs.
“We suspect poison,” Chen says.
Of course we do. “What kind of poison?” I ask, looking down at the glass of whiskey one of the attendants put on my armrest, my paranoia beginning to get the best of me.
Chen notices and shakes his head. Which means in no uncertain terms, Do. Not. Drink. That.
I nod, and resist the urge to glance up towards the galley where the flight attendant is fixing something to eat.
Well, this is going to be a very long flight to Hong Kong if we can’t eat or drink the entire time.
“We won’t know until the toxicology comes back,” Chen says. “It’s going up the chain of command at our most trusted medical facility, but we don’t have an estimate yet.”
“OK,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “Did anyone call my mother?”
Chen shakes his head. “We thought you should do it.”
Of course they did.
“But I would advise calling your father privately first.”
Of course he would.
“Did anyone check on my family?”
“We have people in place. There’s no movement.”
“And Rory?”
“That…”—Chen stops, like he’s choosing his words carefully— “will require further discussion.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. “We put this plan in place so she’d be safe. You fucking told me that if I got her to walk away, she’d be safe. So just what the fuck does further fucking discussion mean?”
“Calm down, Five,” Chen says, patting the air with his hand. “That plan is still on track. But today—just a few hours ago, in fact—there was a development.”
“Define. Development.” I growl out the words.
“She was invited to a…” He shrugs. “A party. Or something. Tomorrow night.” He averts his eyes. Clearly he doesn’t trust this flight attendant. But I’m not sure how seriously I should take that suspicion, since he doesn’t trust anyone. “We can talk about it when we land.”
“We won’t land for another twelve hours,” I say, getting more pissed off by the second.
“She’s fine. You did everything right, Five. You got her the hell away from you and everything is fine.”
“I want to go see her, Chen. Before Hong Kong.”
“Out of the question,” he says. This time he’s pantomiming a stop gesture with his hand. “If you want to keep her safe you will stay as far away from Princeton University as you can. Hong Kong is the definition of that place. And besides,” he adds, softening his tone, “they’re expecting you. You have known for a long time that this moment would come. You must show up and do your job.”
My job. “Fuck my job, Chen. I don’t care about my job. I care about my people.”
“We are your people. Say anything you want to me, but listen to me, Five. When you get off this plane you will not say anything to anyone other than, ‘Thank you for your condolences.’ Do you understand? This is a very precarious situation and keeping Rory safe depends on you taking power. You do not take power by abdicating it the first chance you get.”
I sit back in my seat and sigh. Because he’s right
. My power comes from the Triads. From my grandfather. The only way to keep Rory out of this is to become the man I was always meant to be.
That’s the whole reason I walked out last summer, right? That’s the whole reason I put this plan together in the first place, right? I need to trust Rory to keep herself safe until I can stabilize my position.
“She’s smart,” Chen says.
“I know that,” I say, still annoyed. “She got into Princeton. Everyone knows she’s smart.”
“And she’s tough too,” Chen adds.
This makes me smile. Because the princess is tough. Tougher than most men, that’s for sure. She learned from the best.
“She’ll handle herself just fine without you.”
“I know,” I say again. And I even sorta believe it. “But I don’t want her to handle it alone. You don’t understand, Chen. I should be the one to keep her safe. She shouldn’t have to handle anything on her own. And the fact that this is happening now and I’m so far away… Well, it’s fucking killing me, man. It’s killing me not to be with her.”
Chen frowns. “Maybe one day it will work out.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I say. “That doesn’t make me feel any better, ya know.”
“I’m just being… pragmatic. I’m not the most optimistic person so that’s the best I can do.”
“No, you’re the most paranoid motherfucker I know.” Chen… optimist? Never. But his pessimism has served my grandfather almost his whole life.
But Damian Li is dead.
“I didn’t see it coming,” Chen adds, reading my thoughts.
“Poison,” I say. “You never see it coming.”
“Which is why they use it.”
“Yeah.” They. But I don’t ask who “they” is.
I already know.
These are the same people who went after my sister Sasha. The same people who had my uncle James on the run for more than a decade before they took them down. Down but not out, right? They never really go away, do they? They just have a different name these days. They have a pretty new logo. And a brand-new group of delusional motherfuckers willing to do whatever it takes to preserve the status quo and call it global stabilization.
“I’m gonna get them for this,” I say.
Chen shakes his head. “No, Five. We’re gonna get them for this.”
Right. Me and my people.
Fuck ’em. They remade themselves over the years into something new. But I’ve remade myself into something new as well. They knew me once. They knew who I was and what I could do. They sent their emissaries to recruit me into their delusional fantasy under that assumption.
But I walked away from Rory Shrike six years ago for a reason. I gave her up, followed my grandfather’s lead, and became this man I am now.
I remade myself, too. And I don’t need a fancy new logo or a pretty new name to get that point across.
They’re gonna see what kind of retribution I’m capable of.
But…
There’s always a fucking but, right?
But what if they get to Rory first? Then what do I do?
I look at Chen and read his mind just like he did mine a few seconds ago.
Your job, Five Aston. You do your job.
What does that even mean?
Chapter Eighteen - Rory
I take a deep breath and pull into the Palladium House parking lot, whispering my mantra under my breath. “I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.”
Five Aston became something new to me when he walked out of my childhood bedroom and every single thing I was sure of in this life became a lie.
I am not a princess. He is not my prince. We are never—ever—gonna get that happily ever after.
But… and this is a huge but… I am Rory Shrike, oldest daughter of Ron the Bomb and Spencer motherfucking Shrike. So I will deal like the woman they raised me to be.
I take another deep breath as I pull into the parking spot that says ‘Sister Rory’ on a pink and gray sign near the entrance, and do that.
Full-fledged senior member of the Palladium Eating Club House, bitches.
Only forty people are included on that short list. Twenty lucky bitches and twenty lucky bros. Palladium House is the most exclusive eating club here at Princeton, and I’m in.
I square my shoulders and lift my chin, getting ready for all the questions coming my way the second I walk into that building. And then I get out of my car and walk around to open up the back to grab my shit.
Tera has ignored me all summer up until this morning when she texted to say she was here and when was I arriving.
I texted her once, back when I was still adjusting to my new normal, just to feel her out after that whole thing with Cliff. But she never texted back. So I withdrew. It’s not like I wanted to talk about what happened with Five and Cliff, anyway. Not like I even could, either.
She’s not in the parking lot, thank God. I need a moment to gather myself. Ravel up all those unraveling threads and be normal.
As normal as one can be after a girl’s fantasy is shattered.
“Rory!” some of the other girls start calling near the back entrance to the house.
I wave and smile as I approach. All fake, of course. But they don’t need to know that.
And then I see him. The one man I don’t want to see.
“Cliff,” I say, unable to hide my surprise. “What are you doing here?” What is he doing here? I mean, come on, buddy. Don’t you have a law school to attend or something? I really don’t need this kind of confrontation on the very first day back.
“I was just dropping Tera off,” he says, taking both my hands once he’s close enough to pull me into a hug. “I’m sorry about the way I left things in Colorado,” he whispers in my ear.
“It’s… OK,” I say, pushing him off me as gently as I can. “I think.”
“Did you have a nice summer?” Cliff asks, still holding my hands as he gazes down at me.
Nice? No. I would not call it a nice summer. “Yes,” I say. “It was perfect, actually.” I’m so not in the mood to—
“Rory!” Tera is dashing across the parking lot screaming my name. “Rory! Oh, my God! I thought I’d never see you again!”
She crashes into me, almost knocking me down—if Cliff hadn’t conveniently been there to catch us both—and wraps her arms tightly around me.
“Holy Jesus motherfucking fuck, Rory Shrike!” Tera squeals. “I’ve missed you so much. I have so much to tell you about this summer. Why didn’t you call me…”
I look over my shoulder at Cliff to find him smiling and waving. “I’ve got your bags,” he calls, as Tera continues to lead me towards the house, talking a mile a minute.
“You’re so lucky you stayed home this summer. The Hamptons, OMG, Rory. It was all drama. Jason Blumenthal—remember him from last year? Well, he got together with Sylvia P. Not Sylvia R. I know they’re easy to confuse since they both have that ridiculous platinum hair and big tits, but Sylvia P. And you remember what her dad does?”
I don’t need to answer. Tera fills me in on all the details of Sylvia P and Jason B’s summer fling. And by the time we get up to my room on the second floor of the house, I’ve learned all I need to know.
Drama.
I’m so glad I stayed away this summer as well. There’s no way I was ready to come back to this. I’m not even sure I’m ready now.
But I do like that she just blew past all the awkwardness of beginning of summer and jumped right into the new awkwardness of back to school.
“So what do you think of the room?” Tera opens her arms up wide in a ta-da gesture. “I had all your stuff brought over from storage this morning.”
It’s a nice room, I have to admit. Large and exquisitely decorated in muted tan and pale blue. The furniture is all high-end designer. And there’s even a make-up vanity in one corner with a beautiful antique mirror. The perfect place for a princess to get ready for a night out.
“It’s… gr
eat,” I say, forcing myself to act excited. I don’t give one fancy fuck about this room. I’m here on autopilot. That’s all.
“I picked out the color scheme. I told Nancy that you like pastels. But pink?” She wrinkles her nose. “No pink. So I chose blue.”
I’m still smiling my fake smile. Trying to think of something clever and witty to say. Something Princess Rory would say.
Tera frowns. “You can redecorate if you don’t like it.”
“No!” I say. “No, no, no. I love it, Tera. Really, I do.” I hug her tight and enjoy her familiarity for a moment. “Thank you,” I say, still embracing her.
She pats my back and holds me an extra second before pushing me away to hold me at arm’s length. “Are you OK?” Her smile is gone now. Her face is nothing but the serious expression of a concerned friend. “I know what happened last June was… weird, but Rory, I’m your best friend. I’m here for you. You know that right?”
“I know.” I sigh, letting my sadness and disappointment through for a second. But then I ravel up those loose ends and paint on a bright smile. “Let’s just forget about this summer, OK? I just want to concentrate on what’s next, ya know?”
Tera nods her head, her smile back in place. “OK,” she says, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear in a tender gesture that makes me ache for her. We have been tight friends for years now.
“I’ve missed you,” I say, meaning it.
She make a pouty face. “It’s OK,” she says. “New year, new rules, new everything, right?”
I nod. “Right.”
“And we’re going out tonight—”
“No,” I say. God, not yet. I’m not ready.
But Tera stomps her foot. “Yes,” she insists. “We’re going out tonight. I know you don’t want to hear about the Hamptons, but I do have a few delicious details to fill you in on. One of which is my new man.”
Now this is interesting. So my ears perk up. “OK, I do want to know that.” I laugh. “Who is it?”
But Tera just hooks her arm in mine and walks me further into the room, kicking the door closed behind her. “You’re gonna have to show up tonight to find out. It’s secret,” she says. “Even to me. Did you talk to anyone else yet? About our secret party?”