The reserved town of Silvercrest was much quieter once he left; some were even relieved. See, Lance isn't a Society kid and his presence around those who were, played havoc with The Society parents, including mine. That's when they made the decision.
It wasn't until the Mayor was elected that Lance was brought home and celebrated a hero. Not because he went to war or anything like that. It was more about him making something of himself. The day he returned is the day he caught my eye. A new man. All man. The uniform didn't hurt either.
It's always been love for him. When we got together, it wasn't, but a week or two after we started seeing one another, he told me he loved me. At the time, I couldn't bring myself to say it back. For me, it's always been and will probably always be a deep like. I mean, I would do anything for him, and I'd never intentionally hurt him, but love, I'm not sure I see it in our future.
At some point, I need to tell him. Let him decide if he wants things to stay the way they are or move on. I'm good either way, but that's not how a relationship should be.
I text him back.
Me: School was bullshit
Me: Headed home
Me: I'll call later
While I wait for his reply Quinn's text chimes. Always, perfect timing.
Quinn: Well
Quinn: Did you fuck him or not?
She's going to judge me whether I answer yes or no, so I type out a quick reply.
Me: Of course not!!!
Me: He's a teacher
Me: At OUR school
Quinn: Your point?
At her reply, I shake my head and tap out a quick response.
Me: Driving
Me: Talk later
She's something else, but I'm not sure what I'd do without her. Friends since childhood, she and I have been inseparable, right up until recently. Now our time together is becoming less frequent. It's something I've meant to ask her, but I've got a lot of things on my mind, and there's no way I can take on the thought of losing my best friend. I push the notion from my head and slide into the driver's seat of my Audi TTS, shifting it in drive.
The view on the opposite side of my windshield is what makes up the town of Silvercrest. To an outsider, it's a peaceful, quiet place with rolling hills, aged architecture, and perfectly manicured lawns, but beneath the surface are secrets as old as the founding families, secrets known only to The Society.
There are times I wish I didn't know anything about what's happened here. With so many lies, cover-ups, and even murders, no one knows the truth anymore. Just once I'd like to experience what normal feels like.
The sound of a horn behind me pulls me from my daydream, and I realize the light I'm sitting at has turned green. Luxury cars pass me like I'm standing still as I pull slowly out into the intersection and begin my drive home.
With the stoplights, timed perfectly, everyone is trying to get where they're going, but getting nowhere fast. It's how I feel at this very moment. I'm not a patient person. The traffic inches forward far enough for me to swerve onto the shoulder and catch the next exit. I take the backroad home giving me some time to think about what Mr. Harrington had said.
"Tutoring," I speak the word aloud, cracking through the silence in my car. If anyone in class finds out, especially Catarina, I'll ever hear the end. She's always finding reasons to show everyone how much better she is than any of us.
But if I don't graduate, I'm screwed because of a stipulation in my grandfather's will.
A high school diploma and a college degree is a requirement of my trust fund. It's the main reason my parents could care less if I do well in school. Sure, they tried to buy a better grade from Mr. Harrington, but how hard did they press him? My guess is it was one phone call, and they probably didn't even talk with him. Which means they retain control over my multimillion-dollar account.
In Silvercrest, associated with the oldest of old money, is the Aldridge name. Our family has a lineage of wealth tracing back to books from the 1800s, money earned through years of buying land at pennies on the dollar, and selling it to railroads, businesses, and even whole towns. As a single child, my father, Harold Mattias Aldridge IV, inherited it all, including the home in which we now live.
But his money is not what's being held hostage by the lack of academic achievements in my hand. No, my trust fund is money from my grandfather on my mother's side. Red River Simmons's money. A small piece of wealth beyond my wildest dreams.
Out of the nine kids he and my grandmother raised, my mother and I were his favorites, and he decided we would be the sole proprietors of everything he built over the past sixty-four years.
As can be expected, this didn't play out well with the rest of the family, and they've disowned us. On occasion, hoping to get a piece of what doesn't belong to them, one will come out of the woodwork, but discovering their intentions sends them straight back home.
It's the very reason I need to plow through this English Lit class and get a high enough grade to graduate because no one is taking what is mine.
Ideas roll around in my head about how we can meet without anyone from class knowing. My parents are gone, maybe we could just do it at the house. I shake the thought from my head as quickly as it comes. Even though our home is secluded, we still have neighbors and bored fucking housewives that don't have anything better to do than gossip.
No, I'll have to think of something else.
When I reach the iron gates that separate our property from the rest of the world, I realize my thoughts have been on everything but the mindless drive I'd hoped to take. It seems if I want any peace of mind, it'll take a session or two with Gunther. Who needs a therapist when you have a masseuse?
I let out a long sigh at the thought of setting up some time with him, and my body instantly relaxes, practically melting in my seat. But the feeling is short-lived because about the time I pass through the twelve-foot iron my phone dings.
Lance: Danny's at seven?
He's persistent, that's for sure, and I'd think by now he'd know better than even to suggest we meet at Danny's. Of all his friends, Danny is the most handsy and aggressive drunk I've ever been around. There have been times he's even left bruises, but when I mention it to Lance, he writes it off as harmless flirting.
Nothing about it is harmless or flirting. And that means I'm staying away from the situation altogether.
Me: You go
Me: I have cramps
It's a lie, but I'm not up for any time with him or his friends tonight, and there's no quicker way to end a conversation with a guy than playing that card.
Or so I thought.
His image lights up the screen on my phone. The button on my steering wheel connects us, and his hard tone is instantly permeating the interior of my car.
"I'd believe you if it wasn't only two weeks ago, I got the same excuse."
Dammit.
I let out a long breath and decide to explain myself. "Lance, I'm sorry, but I just don't like Danny. He's a nice enough guy and all, it's just, how do I say this…"
"Spit it out because I'm interested to hear how Danny is any worse than Quinn. That bitch is the one putting ideas in your head about not wanting to see me, isn't she?" He argues.
"What? No! She didn't say I shouldn't see you." I think back to our conversation in class, and it's just the opposite, but I'm not telling him that. "I've told you about Danny's advances before. Tonight, I'm just not in the mood for fighting him off."
"I've told you, I talked with him about that. He means no harm. You should feel flattered he shows an interest in you. He's a nice-looking guy and can easily have any girl he wants."
My mouth drops open at the words currently filling my ear, it renders me speechless. How could I have thought this man is anyone I saw myself with? If that's the way he feels, then I need to end this…tonight.
"Harlyn, you still there?"
I take in a deep breath and let it out, regaining my composure and mustering up the courage to say what I must
. "Lance, we need to talk, but not over the phone. Can you meet me here at the house around six?"
"With bells on." He replies sarcastically before ending the call.
Glancing down at the blank screen of my phone, I wonder if inviting him to the house was the right decision.
Chapter Four
Francis Harlyn Aldridge
It's 5:45 pm, and my nerves have adrenaline pumping through my veins at a rapid rate, in pace with each tap of my sandals atop the marble floor in the foyer as I pace from one side of the room to the other.
Twenty steps each way is what I've counted.
There's no reason for this type of anxiety. I've tried to end it in the past and was even successful for a few months. But somehow, he always finds a way of pulling me back in. Maybe it's the sex, or perhaps his ability to prey on my one weakness—fear of being alone.
With parents who never really wanted kids, I've mostly been living the life of an orphan.
Having a child was yet another stipulation of my grandfather's agreement. Mother wouldn't get any of the Simmons inheritance until she married and produced offspring. She didn't even get to pick her suitor. An arranged marriage between Silvercret's Harold Aldridge and Red River's Maria Simmons set forth at the tender ages of twenty-one and eighteen.
Money is a motivator. Controlling people's lives and driving their decisions. What the agreement didn't specify is, who would raise me.
From the day I was born until my sixteenth birthday, nanny Grace raised me. She still works for us, and I still love her to pieces. She's been more a mother to me than my own ever could have been, but as much love as she gives, it'll never fill the hole in my heart as only parents can.
Because of that fear, I'm stuck in a relationship that'll never work. I don't love him and probably never will. He deserves better. Hell, I deserve better. He may not know what's coming, but somehow, I always knew in the back of my mind.
The knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. He's here. Taking a glance in the entry mirror, I smooth loose strands of hair with my hands and run a finger over a smear of lip gloss beneath my lip before turning and opening the door. Suddenly wishing I hadn't.
Anger radiates off him like hot rays of the sun, burning my skin before uttering a single word.
He knows.
"Is there someone else?" He asks, but his attention isn't on me; instead, he looks out over the running creek just yards from where he's leaning against the railing.
"No, Lance, it's not like that," I reply, stepping out onto the porch, but keeping my distance.
Lance always the detective, jumps in. "Who is it?"
"Why don't you tell me what it is like Harlyn because I thought we had something. Why are you suddenly sidestepping and giving-up on us? Is it because I don't come from the kind of money the rest of you people do?"
The urge to remind him things ended months ago is right on the tip of my tongue, but I refrain when I realize what he's said. After all this time, his assumption of me being that shallow and this breakup is about money or status sets me off. I move into his line of sight "Lance, you know money was never the issue. We don't see eye to eye on anything."
"I didn't hear any complaints in the bedroom." He says flatly.
"Sex alone isn't going to hold this relationship together. I like you for you, not your money or how good in bed you are but I don't think that's enough…do you? Aren't you looking for someone who will love you with all their heart, not just like?" I ask, placing a palm on his cheek.
He lets out a deep breath. "I disagree. There's something more there I just don't think you're willing to admit it." He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I'll make you see it one way or another, Harlyn."
Without so much a second glance, he turns on a heel and is straddling his motorcycle before I realize what just happened.
Was this a breakup, or have I just raised a challenge with a man who doesn't hold my heart?
Chapter Five
Francis Harlyn Aldridge
The next morning my mind is still reeling from the conversation with Lance. His inability to understand we're over is partly my fault, I've been weak and have given in when tempted with sex or just an offer of spending time together. But that ends now. Today is a new day, and I'm prepared to hold my ground.
My phone chimes.
Quinn: Yo
Quinn: Everything ok this morning?
I'd called Quinn last night after Lance had left. She listened to me wallowing in self-pity while the tears flowed for hours before stepping in and offering up her advice. She didn't hold back either.
"Don't beat yourself up about it, Har. If you weren't feeling it with him, then what you did needed to be done. He thinks he loved you, but I didn't see it. Maybe his mention of money says something about your relationship and his intentions. Could it be he is after yours?"
She'd raised a valid point. There were many occasions where he'd pried a little too deep into detail around my grandfather's will. The thought lingers in the back of my mind. I'd call her and talk through this newly discovered theory, but I'm already running late, so a quick text reply is all I have time for while readying myself for school.
Me: I'm fine
Me: See you English Lit
With our schedules not aligned for senior-year, that means I'll not see her until Mr. Harrington's class, which I'll be late for because I've misplaced my copy of Hamlet again. I was sure I tucked it in my bag to read last night.
I toss things from my locker onto the floor, frantically searching for it. There's math, science, and biology textbooks along with a ton of unnecessary other crap but no worn hardback.
"Well, it seems I've missed locker cleaning day ladies," Catarina says, giggles erupting around her from what I can only assume is Rebecca and Scarlett. Her followers.
Ignoring her, I continue digging through my locker.
"You know it's obvious, don't you?"
I let out a frustrated breath and sit back on my heels. She's baiting me; I shouldn't respond, but I'm curious what she feels she needs to point out. "What is so obvious, Catarina?"
"Your crush on Mr. Harrington. Everyone in class sees it. I must say he would be a step up from that trailer trash scum, Lance Freeman. What I'm curious about, though, is if not having parents at home make you more of a slut than if they were around." More giggles erupt around her.
It's the last straw for me, I stand and take a step toward her. We're face to face, so close our tits are almost touching. "Don't you dare say anything about my parents, Rina," I emphasize the name her friends call her knowing full-well I'm not one of them.
"Or else what?" She asks, standing taller.
"You'll regret it," I say, poking her in the collarbone with my finger.
She scoffs at my response and opens her mouth to say something, but the bell is signaling we're late. With one flippant glance, she turns on a heel and heads to his classroom. "Let's go, girls. Mr. Harrington is probably waiting for us."
The whole scene sets my heart skipping at a rapid pace. I've had just about as much as I can take from them. Had the bell not rung at that very moment, I could've easily unleashed my fists on her. Tossing everything back in my locker, I shove the door closed, but it springs open. It takes several shoves before the latch engages, making me even later to class.
Outside Mr. Harrington's classroom, I take a deep breath and prepare myself for what I expect is going to be a disaster before stepping through the door.
Everyone already has their nose in their books, and I breathe a sigh of relief no one is watching when I enter, but my relief doesn't last because Mr. Harrington decides to make an example of me by announcing my arrival.
"Glad you could join us, Miss Aldridge."
Giggles and laughs rumble through the classroom, but I ignore them and instead saunter to my desk as though my presence is a privilege before taking a seat. "I'm happy to be here, Mr. Harrington." I retort.
The giggles and laughs turn
to oohs and a dramatic "burn" or two from some boys in the back. It draws a narrowed stare from the teacher, but he's quick to regain his composure, beginning class as though nothing has just happened.
"With a show of hands, how many of you finished reading Hamlet last night?" He asks, rising to his feet and coming around to the sit on the front edge of his desk.
There are only a few who don't raise their hand.
"For those of you who've read, I'm going to pass out a quiz. Once you've completed it, place it on my desk quietly, and you're free to go early." The room erupts in whistles and clapping from the majority, but a raise of the teacher's hand quiets them.
My breath catches when I realize what he's holding. It's my copy of Hamlet. I know it's mine by the pink frilly bookmark dangling from the top. How did he get it?
Most of the class has e-readers for their required reads, but I still prefer a hardback. There's nothing like the feel and smell of an aged book, especially the older editions like the one he holds so carefully now. That edition was obtained from our home library and is one of the initially published copies, not something you can easily buy off the internet.
"For those of you who haven't finished, please continue reading through the rest of the scenes. If you finish in time, you will be given the quiz and can leave once you've completed it. For those of you who don't finish," His stare lands on me. "I'll give you until Thursday at the latest to have read and completed your quiz. And make sure you do because Friday I have a surprise announcement and trust me, you don't want to miss this, so make sure you get everything done."
More claps and whistles erupt but fade just as quickly when Mr. Harrington begins handing out quizzes.
Once he's handed out the last one, he stalks over to my desk and leans down, handing me my book. "If leaving this in my classroom is some kind of rebellious act, then it just means you'll be spending more time with me."
Fuck. I glance around to see who might be listening, but everyone is head down reading or completing their work, and I let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you," I tell him, reaching for the small book. "I'm sure my parents wouldn't be happy if I were to lose it."
The Society Page 18