The Wayward Sons: (Book 3) Starlee's Home

by Angel Lawson

  When I arrive at Claire’s, she meets me in the doorway. A curvy girl stands behind her—looking like the polar opposite of my friend. She has short black hair and warm brown skin. There’s not a trace of the dark makeup or clothing Claire tends to wear, but skinny jeans and Converse.

  “This is Nora,” Claire says, introducing us.

  “Hi, I’m Starlee.” We shake hands. And she admires my outfit. “I like those boots.”

  I look down at my fleece-lined shoes. “I learned the hard way about not being prepared for cold weather.”

  “Functional and cute,” she says. “I like it.”

  The sound of a vehicle in the driveway makes us turn, and it’s the Jeep. The guys jump out and while they meet Nora, I go straight to George to check out his wound. He’s just wearing a small bandage now. The swelling is down but there’s a nasty purple bruise in the area.

  “Any word from your dad or Mrs. Delange?”

  “Nope. Nothing.” He takes my hand. “He must be freaking out.”

  “So,” Dexter says, walking over. “Your mom came by the shop today.”

  I gape. “What? When?”

  “This morning.” He narrows his eyes. “She seemed different.”

  “Totally different,” Jake adds.

  “Did your mom join a cult or something in Europe?” Dex asks.

  “That could explain it, right?” I laugh. “I don’t know. I think something changed with her after I moved out.”

  “She came over to talk to Sierra.”

  I tilt my head. “Really? About what?”

  “I don’t know. They went over to the house to talk alone and Sierra didn’t tell me what it was about. I decided to let it drop.”

  “Is she going to try to make you move back?” George asks.

  “I don’t think so.” I do wonder if she was talking to Sierra about the police and Dexter’s hearing. I hope so. We’re so much closer to getting all this resolved.

  “Ready?” Claire asks, coming from the house. She tugs her jacket over her shoulders and links hands with Nora. “Two cars?”

  “I think it’s a good idea,” Dexter says.

  We all pile in, me and the guys in the Jeep, Claire and Nora alone in the car. They seem content to have time alone and I’m just happy to be with all of my boys together without having to worry about looking over my shoulder the whole time.

  37

  Charlie

  The impressive thing about the Villages is that they focus on guest experiences, so everything is pretty cool even if you’re just a local. It’s always fun but for New Year’s Eve they went all out. Fire pits are scattered throughout the area and vendors sell little s'mores kits. There’s a whole kids' area with bouncy-houses and slides. Adult-only areas are cordoned off, where booze flows freely. There’s a big stage up front where a man and woman emcee the event, along with a few bands playing music.

  “Hey, look,” Nora says, pointing at a recently vacated firepit. “Want to grab it?”

  “Yes, please,” Starlee says, rushing over to warm her fingers by the fire.

  “You guys save the spot, we’ll go get s'mores kits. We can use our staff discount,” George says, pulling out his wallet to find his card.

  “Good idea,” Starlee says, settling in between Jake and Dexter. He tosses his arm over her shoulder.

  At the vendor stand I glance around, waiting our turn.

  “Why are you so nervous?” George asks. His cap is pulled down low enough on his forehead that I can’t see his wound.

  “Just don’t like being this close to Dad.”

  “His job doesn’t have anything to do with the shopping area, and you know he’d never come down to something like this on his own. He hates crowds and prefers to drink alone, like a miserable old bastard.”

  “I know,” I sigh, rubbing my neck, smiling at the jab.

  “Relax,” George says, frowning when I start chewing on my bottom lip. It’s my tell for stress. I’ve about gnawed it raw over the last couple of days. The clock just isn’t ticking on the end of the year, it’s ticking for me and George. We’ve got to either resolve our issues with Dad or talk to Mrs. Delange. We can’t hide out in that cottage much longer.

  We purchase our kits and head back to the firepit. As we walk up, Claire taps Starlee on the shoulder. “Oh look, it’s the wicked bitch of the west.”

  We all look over and see Christina with her friends. Worry crosses Dex’s face and Starlee sees it. “Don’t let her bother you, okay? This is a big event. We can always say we ran into one another.”

  Claire shoots Jake a look. “I thought you handled that.”

  He frowns. “I tried. You know she’s stubborn.”

  Thankfully, it doesn’t come to that, and Christina keeps moving through the crowd without seeing us. Maybe George is right. I need to chill out.

  We enjoy ourselves around the firepit, telling stories about past New Years, like the one two years ago when George decided we all needed to Polar Bear plunge at Mirror Lake in Yosemite.

  “My skin turned purple,” I say, shaking my head. That was a terrible idea.

  “It was so cold,” Jake says, “I literally thought my balls may fall off.” The girls laugh and Jake raises a suggestive eyebrow at Starlee. “Good thing that didn’t happen, right?”

  Her cheeks burn red and Dexter says, “There’s about thirty minutes until the drop. We should go get a spot.”

  “Hey,” George says, tugging on my sleeve, “I think I know where we can get an ideal vantage.”

  “Yeah?” I ask, not sure what he’s talking about.

  “Follow me.”

  I have no idea where he’s going, but it’s in the opposite direction of the mammoth. He pushes through the crowd but we make sure to keep together. He ducks down a small side pathway between two shops and leads us to a maintenance area. There’s a code box on the door but George seems to know it, punching in the numbers, and the lock slides loose. There’s a flight of stairs just inside and he starts climbing.

  “Where’s this go?” Dexter asks behind me.

  “I don’t know. I’m an I.T. guy. I work in the office.”

  At the top landing there’s another door and he pushes it open. It takes us to a small outside area, just over the town with a direct view of the mammoth drop at the stage.

  “I had to help clean out this area one day. It gets filled with a lot of debris when it’s windy.” He smiles. “Perfect, right?”

  Starlee beams. “Yes! Totally perfect, thank you for thinking of it.”

  The little patio is dark and covered, shielding us from some of the cold breeze blowing through the night. Everyone huddles around the railing, except me, because I feel the need for a little space. I separate from the others and look over the crowd below. The twinkling lights and the ridiculous mammoth hanging over the stage. I finally relax, knowing we’re up here where no one can see us, find us, or cause any problems. There’s no Christinas, no social workers, no parents or guardians.

  I feel a hand slip around my waist. Starlee looks up at me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I think being cooped up for the last few days got to me.”

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Hey,” I say, tipping her chin up and kissing her gently. She tastes like chocolate and marshmallow. “It’s not your fault. You saved us from a heap of trouble.”

  “Hopefully all that trouble will vanish in the new year.”

  I rest my chin on her head and wrap my arms around her. The emcee announces that we’re one minute away; the band below starts to play. The crowd gets rowdy, shaking streamers and blowing horns. It’s all ridiculous and as the time ticks away down, the sound of each number is shouted out by the party goers. The guys all head our way and I release Starlee so she’s in the middle of the four of us. The strange electricity of washing away the old for the new is passing through us. The mammoth drops, lowering foot by foot until the clock runs out, fireworks burst in the distance and Starlee t
urns to face us.

  “Happy New Year,” she says, looking at us all.

  We say it in return, each of us giving her a kiss to start off the year.

  38

  Starlee

  We wait until a lot of the crowd clears to head back downstairs. We’ve just walked into the small alley when a flashlight shines in our eyes.

  I hold my hand up to block the glare and see it’s a police officer. I inspect his uniform. Okay, not police, security. Still, I feel everyone around me tense.

  “You’re trespassing,” he says.

  “Officer,” George says, “I work here—that’s how I had the code. I just thought it’d be nice to see the mammoth from a better view.”

  “The security system tripped fifteen minutes ago about an invalid employee ID being used to enter one of the buildings.” The light shines over us. “Are you George Evans?”

  “Yes, sir, and as far as I know, I’m still employed.” But his voice hesitates. He’d missed several days of work. Maybe he got fired? I glance at Charlie. The same question flits over his face.

  “This is a misunderstanding,” Charlie says, stepping forward. “My brother and I both work for the resort. I’m sure if we can call one of the supervisors, we can work it out.”

  The officer hesitates. Claire takes a shot. “We weren’t doing anything—just getting a better view of the stage. We’re headed home now.”

  He sighs. “Look, get out of here and check with management on Monday. I suspect neither of you still have a job here. Your IDs are flagged.”

  Charlie frowns. “Can you tell me who flagged them?”

  He shakes his head. “Sorry, no, but you can ask up in HR.” He looks out at the mobs of people still leaving the Village. “Go, get out of here before I change my mind.”

  “Thank you,” George says, giving him a smile. We all move quickly, not wanting a repeat. When we’re out of the main area and headed toward the parking lot, he says, “Who do you think turned us in?”

  “Who do you think?” Charlie says with a frown. “Dad can’t go to the cops without tipping them off about his own problems, but he can take away our jobs and our money.”

  “Guys,” Dexter says as we approach the cars, “I think it’s time to go talk to Sierra.”

  George runs his hands though her hair. “I don’t want her to get in trouble.”

  “She won’t. And when she finds out you needed help and didn’t go to her? She’s gonna be pissed.”

  With his hands shoved in his letterman jacket, Jake nods in agreement. “We need to deal with this.”

  The twins look at one another and then nod. Charlie speaks for both of them. “Okay, we’ll come over in the morning and talk to her. Tell her everything that happened.”

  Claire opens her car door. It was already decided I’d ride back with her and Nora to the house. I stop her and say, “Give me a second to say goodnight, okay?”

  “Take your time,” she says, sliding in the seat. Nora gets in the passenger side and she cranks her engine, warming up the vehicle.

  I approach the guys, who are standing around the Jeep. “I’m going to need to be there in the morning when you talk to Sierra.”

  “No way,” Dexter says, his jaw tight. “Bad idea.”

  “She’s going to find out about them staying at the cottage. I need to own up to my part of it. Then we have to tell Leelee.” And my mom.

  “Your grandmother?” Jake says with his eyes wide. “I hate disappointing her.”

  They all look pained at the idea.

  “It’ll be fine.” I inhale. “I think it’s just time we came clean. We were looking out for our friends. There’s nothing more to it.”

  Dex finally gives me a sharp nod of approval, although I can tell he’s not into it. I think he’s going to say something else when his eyes shift over my shoulder. Before I can turn I hear a voice shouting and he’s jumped into action, pushing me out of the way. I land on Jake’s chest and spin, only to find Dexter and a large man—Mr. Evans--face to face. Dexter stands between him and the twins, his posture defensive.

  “Son,” Mr. Evans says, looking at the boys, “get the hell out of my way.”

  “Dad!” Charlie shouts. “What are you doing?”

  The alcohol is strong, wafting on the breeze. Mr. Evans looks bad—deranged. His clothes are dirty and wrinkled. His hair disheveled. “This has gone on a long enough. It’s time for you to come back home.”

  “We’re not going anywhere with you,” George says. He walks over to the car and opens the door. Mr. Evans roars with rage and charges past Dexter, going for his son. Dexter gets a hand on him, but he’s off balance. Jake spins me out of the way and lunges for the man. Dexter may have a temper, but Jake? Jake is a beast, and knocking down people is his job.

  “You need to calm down, because these are my brothers that you’re threatening, and I don’t like it,” Jake says, gritting his teeth. “Guys, get in the car.”

  They both go, not wanting another altercation. The problem now is getting Dexter and Jake out of here in once piece.

  “Of course they need a real man to fight their battles for them. Both of them ran away like babies. Crying over games and artwork.” He rears back and hocks spit in the air.

  It lands on Dexter’s shirt.

  “Dex,” I warn, using every ounce of strength. “Don’t do it.”

  His eyes flick toward me and I’m thankful to see reason beneath the rage. He’s come a long way. He straightens and walks over to the twins' dad. “You’re a sick bastard.”

  “Ha!” Mr. Evans cries. “She’s got you wrapped around her pussy, too. What does this girl taste like to get all of you to come at her beck and call?” His eyes glint and a dumb, drunk smile rolls across his lips. “You must give amazing head.”

  The next moments are a blur. Not only does Dexter explode but so does Jake, releasing his grip on Mr. Evans and slamming him into the car. The twins jump out, venom blazing in their identical eyes, and even Claire and Nora hop out of their car trying to stop it.

  Everything goes crazy. I shout. Scream. Cry and yell, but nothing stops the fight until sirens appear and everyone, including me and the girls, are dragged away.

  I’d had hopes that the new year would bring something different. Something brighter, but as we’re shoved in the back of the police cruiser, the boys' faces and knuckles bloodied, I realize that hell has opened up and swallowed us whole.

  We may never get out of this one.

  39

  Starlee

  I don’t know what to expect from a police station, but due to the circumstances it feels like we’re given a little leeway. After everyone is checked over by the EMT, our parents or guardians are called. We’re separated, girls and boys, and placed in different rooms. The station is small and there’s not much going on in this small-town precinct, even if it is New Year’s Eve.

  Claire, Nora, and I are called into an office with a female officer. She asks a lot of questions.

  “Who started the fight?”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “Who threw the first punch?”

  “Do you know you can be charged as an adult?”

  Slowly though, we tell her what happened, everything that happened. About the twins and how they’ve been hiding from their abusive father—the same father that found us tonight. The one who picked a fight with Jake and Dexter. The one that said gross, disgusting things to me.

  “So you’re saying they defended you?”

  “Yes,” I reply. “From a drunk and dangerous man.”

  She looks to Claire and Nora. They both nod. “And not just Starlee.” Claire says. “They defended the twins, too. Mr. Evans was there to pick a fight.”

  “Okay, you girls hold tight. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  It takes longer than a minute and through the office window a while later, I see my mother enter the station, and Sierra follows, along with Claire’s parents. Fresh tears pop in my eyes when I see h
er.

  “My mom is going to kill me,” I say out loud. “She’s always worried something like this is going to happen—or something in general. She’ll probably have me on a plane before the sun sets.”

  I feel the world swallowing me whole. Why is everything so hard? All I wanted was a night with my friends. We didn’t do anything wrong, yet we’re still being punished.

  The police officer opens the door, letting my mother and the others come in. I stand, feeling stupid, ashamed. I talked a good game but trouble seemed to follow me around. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, waiting for the lecture, the disapproval. She walks over and does the most unexpected thing.

  She gives me a hug and tells me everything is going to be alright.

  The next day, once everyone has slept in, showered, and eaten, Sierra and my mother call a meeting. When we arrive at the closed Wayward Sun, Mrs. Delange is also there along with Dexter’s caseworker, Mr. Jameson.

  I shift uneasily in the coffee shop chair, trying not to look at the boys, but it’s hard not to make sure they’re okay. George’s cut reopened the night before and the wound is swollen again, but it looks like someone tended to it and covered the spot with a clean bandage. Dexter has a split on his lip and Jake is sporting two bruises; one on his chin and another under his eye.

  If they look like this, I’d hate to see how Mr. Evans fared.

  From what we know, he’s in jail, booked on charges ranging from battery to abuse to drunk and disorderly. He didn’t even deny his behavior—still too full of rage to even defend himself.

  Mrs. Delange takes a final sip of her coffee and stands near the counter. The rest of us sit. Me next to my mom and Leelee. The boys and Sierra spread out, their long legs clustered under the tables.

  “I think the first thing we need to do is find out the truth about everything that’s been going on.” She eyes the twins. “The whole truth.”