“Hmm, I remember that night. What was her name again?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Me neither. How sad!”
And then he’s in his car. I drive out and head toward Emmett’s estate.
I’m not shocked at all when I see he’s already waiting in his matte black customized Jeep at the front gate, with a scowl on his face. The dude is punctual as all hell; it used to irritate me but today it works well in our fucking favor since I don’t have long until Kim will be blowing up my phone for attempting to bump a meeting.
“This must be a new fucking low,” Emmett shouts, shaking his head into his G-Wagon.
“No, it’s not and besides, here you are.”
“Does Kimberly know—” I cut him off before he continues with that shit.
“No, she doesn’t know and as far as we’re all concerned, she’ll never know.”
“Asshole.”
We roll out with a single mission in mind. Initially, it was just going to be me and Emmett, but I figured George adds weight. King would’ve been a better fit because that jerk suffers from Chronic Resting Asshole face which would be useful today, but considering our target, we got this.
We pass through and pick up an old friend from Spider, then we head to the scene of the fucking crime I’d bet my entire bank account traces back to a single little jerk who thinks he can bully little kids.
We pull up at Westbrook Blues Prep School just as the kids walk out of morning assembly about to head to class.
I smirk.
I get out of my car, not bothering to switch off the loud rap music that makes the entire car vibrate with the bass in the song.
Emmett and George have their hoods up and all eyes are on us, albeit they’re little kids, they’re eyes are wide as they gasp, looking at us.
I go to open the back door for Chubby, Spider’s cuddly and downright sweet Rottweiler, then I swap out his custom-made leash—fucking Spider—for a chain for a more dangerous aesthetic.
But the thing is, Chubby is harmless and not violent at all, but the kids don’t know that. All they see is a big Rottweiler that gives off the desired effect that I’m going for here.
“Uh, excuse me,” a frightened teacher approaches, but as soon as she sees it’s me, she frowns. “Mr. Montreal, Mr. Easton and Mr. Fields?”
“It’s Beaumont now, Mrs. Cho,” George says.
“Of course, sir,” Mrs. Cho says with a shaky voice at seeing us. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing we can’t fix ourselves,” Emmett says quietly.
“We just need to know where one of your exceptional and outstanding students, one Laura Allory, is,” I say seriously.
I don’t know if it’s the scowl on George’s face, the impassive look on Emmett’s or the thunderous look on mine, but Mrs. Cho jumps and points at a classroom I’d know from anywhere.
“That’s our old seventh grade class,” Emmett mumbles.
“The one you and King left some pretty impressive graffiti in right after George knocked that kid out.”
“Why not? My sister was being bullied in there.”
“And so is Lolo.”
I ignore the looks they give and make my way down the walkway to the classroom with Chubby beside me. Emmett’s on my left and George on my right, when we get to the class…
I immediately spot Lolo and she’s fighting tears as some jerk laughs in her face.
“Is that Kimberly’s sister, Lolo?” Emmett asks. I nod. “Hmm, we need to nip that in the bud.”
“Hey, what’s that kid’s name?” George asks some random kid.
“His name is Brandon, he terrifies everyone,” the kid says in a whisper as if she’s scared to be heard by this Brandon kid.
He terrifies everyone, huh? Well, we’ll see.
We walk into the class and the kids fall silent as all eyes swing to us. The teacher’s at the front of the class, typing something onto her tablet, effectively ignoring what’s going on at the back, that is, until she sees us and Chubby.
“May I help you?” she stutters.
“No, but we want to see Brandon.”
The kid looks up at us with wide eyes. I narrow my gaze at him as I look between him and Lolo who’s looking at me, shocked.
“W-what is going on?”
“I suggest you get back to teaching, as this might be your last day,” George says smoothly and I head toward the table where Brandon sits. Lolo is the youngest in her class which means she must’ve skipped a grade. But after watching the way Astraea hated school and I know Kim had a fucking hard time at school as well, I won’t allow Lolo to go through any crap.
“Are you Brandon?” I ask, my voice low and hard.
The kid nods, his face pale making his eyes bulge out even more.
“You’re the so-called bully of the class, huh?”
“I—I…” he stutters.
“Is he the one who treats everyone badly?” I ask the class.
“YES!” they all yell out.
“Is he the one that makes others cry?”
“Yes!”
“And he’s a bad boy wanna be?”
“Yes!”
“Well then, Brandon,” I whisper, my voice low and sinister, enjoying the hell out of it when Chubby decides to sniff the kid like he’s checking for drugs, but I know he’s looking for Beef Jerky. Spider trained Chubby to do everything besides actually be terrifying. “It seems you torment every kid in your class, Brandon.”
“I… I don’t mean to,” the kid stutters.
“Then why do you do it?” I demand. “And you better be honest because Spike here eats liars.”
To my relief, Chubby bares his teeth at the kid but I know he’s yawning. Lazy ass dog. Love him.
“No, please,” the kid starts backing away. “I don’t… I don’t have any friends.”
And there it is.
“Why do you think that is, Brandon?” George asks from beside me, staring down at the kid. “Do you think the way you treat others plays a part with your loneliness?”
Brandon’s lips are trembling, and I’m pretty fucking sure he’s going to pee his fucking pants. That would be a shame as he’s wearing khakis.
“Yes,” he whispers. “No one likes me.”
Knowing damn well that the rest of the class is listening in, I stare him down. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”
“I-I’m sorry?”
“Why are you asking me?” I ask.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“I didn’t hear a single thing.”
“I said I’m sorry.”
I scoff. “Hey, Easton! Did you hear what this kid just mumbled?” I call out.
Emmett’s a huge, intimidating and scary asshole, so when the kid catches his gaze… it happens.
He pees himself.
I almost get out of character as laughter bubbles up my throat, but I hold it together just barely.
“Oh, what a mess you’ve made of yourself there, Brandon,” I tsk, emphasizing his name. “Now see, being a mean bully will only leave you lonely with no friends. So, again, what do you say?”
“I’m sorry, I’ll never bully anyone ever again! I’ll never make fun of anyone ever again! I won’t laugh at disabled people or people with less than I have!”
Whoa, that’s a whole confession.
“Good,” I say, nodding. “But come here and apologize to my best friend for whatever you were saying when I walked in and whatever else you did to make her uncomfortable during her first few weeks at this school.”
I glance at Lolo, her face is a bit red but the smile on her face… it melts a part of my heart that I hadn’t known was fucking ice cold.
“Laura, I’m sorry,” Brandon says seriously and to my shock, Lolo nods and then offers him her blazer.
“Maybe you can use this to cover yourself and you can go to the office for another pair of pants,” she says sweetly.
George’s brows shoot up at the ac
t of undeserved kindness, then he leans in to whisper in my ear, “Are you sure she’s Kimberly’s sister?”
“Oh,” Lolo calls out as Brandon goes. “Keep the blazer, no one wants that.”
“Never mind,” George breathes.
With a wink to Lolo, I grab Chubby and we make our way out, but not before I hear the awed whispers.
“Wow, Laura, you’re best friends with the Blue families?”
Chapter 24
KIM
Past
Blue Fairy: What do you dream of?
ME: Are you talking to me now?
Blue Fairy: Just answer the fucking question, everything else doesn’t matter.
ME: But it does.
Blue Fairy: Close your eyes and pretend like this is another time, in another universe where you and I find each other and we’ll be together without taming this fucking crazy sexual hunger we have for each other and then when we pause to catch out fucking breath, we’ll be diving deeper into what makes us who we are. Are you game?
ME: Noah… I want that. More than you’ll ever know.
Blue Fairy: Then tell me. What do you dream of?
ME: I don’t dream. I have nightmares.
Blue Fairy: Okay.
ME: You’re not going to ask about the nightmares?
Blue Fairy: I saw what you were hiding from me when you wanted me to fuck you in the dark. I saw the long, jagged scars on your beautiful back. I know someone hurt you, badly and I know you’re terrified of them coming back because if it was Larry who did it personally, you wouldn’t be scared to show me. After all, he’s gone. Someone else did that to you and I also know that I’m going to kill him.
ME: You don’t even know who did it.
Blue Fairy: It’s only a matter of time…
Blue Fairy: And you do have dreams, Butterfly. You’re just too scared to ever let anyone in or let your fucking guard down to show them. And I thought I was more than just ‘any-fucking-one’.
Present
I walk in the lobby of the building with my fucking heart in my throat. Urgh, I hate this nervousness I’m feeling all thanks to Noah! He just pushed me into this and now here I am, waking into a fancy building I’ve only been to one other time with the owner.
At least I look cute and fashionable in my charcoal black blazer that reaches the end length of my short skirt and a black lace top with six-inch glossy Louboutin heels. To top it all off, I styled my ombre colored hair in a sleek bob and smoky cat eyes to look fierce.
“Miss Allory!” One of the receptionists I saw the other day calls out, hurrying over to me. “Miss Allory, I’m so glad you’re here!”
She looks stressed out and out of her mind, clutching folders and files in her arms as she hurries up to me. She reminds me so much of me when I started high school. Hungry, out of sorts and made late after cleaning up my mother’s vomit all over my tattered school bag.
“Hello. Can I help you with those?” I ask, feeling sorry for her.
“Oh, I… it’s all right,” she says breathlessly. “I might be newish here, but I got it, thank you though.”
I can see the determination in her eyes and for that, I respect her.
“Is everything okay?”
“Everyone is here. We’ve been waiting for you and Mr. Montreal.”
Ah shit.
“Yes, well, Noah is on his way.”
“Really? What time will he be here, do you think? They are not really a patient bunch.”
Fucking Noah, throwing me to the damn wolves while he does whatever the hell he’s doing.
“What’s your name?”
“Eva.”
“Nice to meet you, Eva. You can call me Kim.”
“Of course, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Kim. I’m your personal assistant.”
Personal assistant? No one told me this job comes with… a personal assistant.
“Oh, that’s cool. Tell you what, why don’t you lead me to where these people are waiting and I’ll take it from there.”
Eva looks worried at that. “Oh, I don’t want to leave you alone with them.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I think it’s best you come see for yourself.”
With that, we walk over to the bank of elevators and she uses her key card to access the top floor.
“Tell me, Eva, what’s going on up there?” I ask softly so as not to spook her further. She looks like she’s ready to flee screaming like a banshee.
“I don’t know how to put this. It’s complicated.”
“I’ll do my best to keep up.”
“Well, first, they are very pissed off that Mr. Montreal is late to the meeting and also, there’s a bit of tension in the room.”
“Describe ‘a bit.’”
“Okay, I mean a lot of tension.”
That makes me pause but before I can ask the one question that matters and will gauge the mood going in, the elevator comes to a stop and the doors slide open.
In an obvious rush to do her job, Eva steps out and looks back to see if I’m following along. I muster all the confidence I can and make my way down the hallway. We pass Noah/Christina’s office that we were in the first time I came here.
I don’t notice the beauty of the place. All I see are the glass doors at the end of the hallway with a long table where about fifteen people are seated.
I can see the scowls and exasperation on their faces from here. I can only imagine what they’ll think of me—some random girl with lavender-grey hair. This is so going to be painful and I bet this was Noah’s plan all along. For me to embarrass myself after I snuck into his room in the early hours of the morning and dyed his hair green.
It was a little silly, but when this meeting was scheduled, I wanted him to suffer a bit of mortification. But the jerk wasn’t fazed at all, making my sisters laugh right before they had to go to school and then putting on a suit only to send me in first.
Urgh, his confidence was both arousing and maddening, I didn’t even know if it was right.
“This way, Miss—I mean, Kim.”
She opens the door for me and just like that I step into battle only to halt dead in my tracks when I hear the voice that greets me as I enter.
“And who are you?”
An earth-shattering shiver goes through me from the strands of my hair to the soles of my feet.
Frozen, I stare at the dashing handsome man, dressed to kill in his three-piece suit with a hand in his pocket, standing at the head of the table.
In the space of a heartbeat, I notice how he stands—with a refined air of self-importance and wealth. I notice the few distinguished grey hairs at the sides of his head, giving him a salt and pepper look that, if he was anyone else, he’d be classified as a Zaddy because well, he is incredibly handsome… and he looks just like his son.
“Monty,” I breathe, staring at him in shock as fear snakes its way into the pit of my stomach as I finally put the face to a name I hear in my nightmares just before I hear the unmistakable crack of the whip before it lit fire across my back when I was thirteen and fresh out of juvie. “You’re Monty.”
Monty which was probably short for Montreal.
Monty, who was drinking and laughing with the man who abused me, used me to his own ends and never gave a damn about me even though he had raped my mother and threatened her not to get rid of me when she got pregnant.
Monty, who is no longer an angry shadow who circles back to haunt me every now and then, reminding me of how useless and unloved I was by my father when he let his friend degrade me right in front of him.
Monty, Larry’s friend, is standing right in front of me and there’s no doubt that he’s David Montreal.
“The stupidity, the foolishness and the devil should be beaten out of children.”
“I think I want to try that as well,” I hear the drunk man say sloppily. “Let me have a go.”
He’s the man who whipped me with so much force, so much rage, cursing me when he missed a
nd continued until I lost consciousness. He’s the Monty, the man whose voice I vowed never to forget and well, I kept that vow. Because now, here he is, looking at me with eyes… eerily similar to his son’s.
Oh God.
* * *
I’m still not sure how I manage to stay upright or how I’m able to move my legs to keep moving into the room as the biggest shock of my life stares right at me, watching me.
“Excuse me, who are you?” David Montreal demands.
Since that Hell Day so many years ago, I never held a candle in the hopes that I’d meet this man, but now that I’m looking directly at him, now that I know who he is, I can’t help but allow the urge to reach for my knife that’s strapped to my inner thigh to consume my thoughts.
I straighten my back and head to one of two available chairs of the fifteen around the table.
“I asked you a question, little girl.”
I take my time, trying to gather my strength, but the truth is, I have no idea what to do. On one hand, I want to march over to that man and stab him a hundred times before sticking my knife right through his wicked, vile brain, but on the other… I’m terrified and powerless, like I’m that little broken girl in that dungeon all over again.
“I’m Christina’s proxy,” I say, relieved when my voice comes out strong and sure. I wonder if he remembers me. I wonder if he knows my name and what he did to me. But as I look at him, there isn’t even a flicker of recognition.
“Ah, so Christina is sending in children to do her dirty work now?” he scoffs. “Well, why don’t you go back to school and call that bitch to come face me herself.”
His voice, even though sober now, is still the same from that night.
The dark, sinister cadence of it induces an ugly shiver that goes down my spine, leaving me feeling… cold, and not in the way Noah does.
“Christina is taking some time for herself at the time being,” I manage to say. “I’ll be conducting all her affairs in her stead.”
I look away from him, choosing instead to focus on the diverse group of older, rich men and one other woman that sit around the table, all eyeing me.
Petty Rage: Westbrook Blues Book 4 Page 29