by Mya West
Does some rich brat think I owe them money?
Is this Selina or one of her fucking minion friends just trying to mess with my head?
I didn’t know what to do when I found the note. Danna insisted I tell the principal.
Principal Aldridge freaked out more than I did. He told me to take the rest of the day off without any penalty, and that he would investigate this personally. I’m not sure how the hell he would do that. I didn’t see any cameras in the hallways near my locker or anything like that.
Times like this, I wish I could call my friend Candice—wait, excuse me, Autumn Darling. Oh right, I have no fucking phone.
Thanks a lot, Lancelot Cain.
I reflect on all the shit I’ve gone through in the short amount of days I’ve been in the town of Ryland. How can such a small town be filled with so much drama?
I’m sure Danna and Bryce would have texted me if I had a phone too. At least I can confirm that two people in this town like me.
Everybody else can just fuck off.
I angrily push the button on the remote flicking through channels. I stop when I find The Jerry Springer Show. I still can’t believe this show is on television. I’m not sure if it’s fake or real, but I love this show. Whenever you feel your life is shit, turn on Jerry Springer, and you will feel instantly better about yourself. Today’s show focuses on women who mess around on their babies’ daddies.
I smile to myself and take a deep breath. My smile fades when it goes to commercial break almost immediately. If there is anything worse than daytime television, it’s daytime commercials. I almost want to change the channel. The only thing that stops me is the idea that after several minutes of crap, I’ll get instant gratification from the show coming back on.
I munch on some more nachos and realize with horror that I almost devoured the whole plate.
Not good. Need to call for back-up. I wipe some crumbs off my jogging pants and get up to call Anna for some more comfort food, when a news commercial stops me dead in my tracks.
News music blasts loudly, giving a sense of urgency. The camera zooms in on the face of a well-groomed reporter. “Coming up after this program is the afternoon news. What would you do if you were drowning? Learn how to survive. Find out why this woman will never eat kale salad again. And more on the fire that destroyed a home close to the downtown core.” A video clip shows my burnt home. I instantly remember everything from that night. James Richardson coming towards me. My father, the local drug dealer, mad as hell that I flushed his products down a sewer drain instead of being a good delivery girl.
The camera zooms back on the newsman. “Many of the deceased are still unidentified. This story and more, immediately after The Jerry Springer Show.”
I try and catch my breath.
Flashes of that night continue to mercilessly into my conscience. I can hear my father yelling at me, as if he’s in the room. I can see James Richardson, with his devilish smile, beside me. I can hear my mom’s cries through the flames. I can hear all their cries. All the dead.
It’s not my fault, I remind myself.
I want the intrusive thoughts to end. Usually, I would write about things that bothered me in my journal.
No fucking way that’s happening now. Thanks again, Lancelot Cain.
I almost want to run out of the guesthouse back to the city.
That’s what these rich brats want though. They win, if I surrender. If I give in, they get what they want.
I remind myself of the opportunity I’ve been given. If I could go back in time and tell Elle Mavin of a few weeks ago of what Arthur Cain has given me, she would tell me to suck it the fuck up. Don’t waste a chance at graduating from the top high school in the country. Don’t let the rich brats win over you.
I hear the loud sounds of a sports car outside. Of course, it’s Lance Cain. Why is he off from school so early?
I wonder if Principal Aldridge found his prime suspect on the anonymous letter? Lance Cain fits the bill of someone who would sink so low as to try and scare me away from Ryland in a creepy fashion. He’s already tried a lot of shit to get me to leave.
I walk outside, slamming the door behind me. I immediately check to see if Arthur Cain is watching me again, but thankfully, he’s nowhere in sight. The only thing I see is Lance Cain.
I storm up to him without him even noticing my presence. When I get within five feet from him, he gives me the courtesy of his attention by looking towards me.
“I don’t owe you shit!” I say.
He smiles. “Well technically, you owe me everything. Without my family, where would you be? On some street somewhere, right?” I clench my fist, thinking about how good it would be to hit him again. He looks down at my hands. “No hitting this time. I don’t hurt woman.”
“You don’t hurt woman? That’s rich. Are you just coy or plain stupid? What you did at that party would give most girls eating disorders for life. And if anything, it’s your father whom I am eternally grateful for, not his silver spoon up the ass son.”
He rolls his eyes. “If you only fucking knew.”
I point at him. “No more letters from you. I don’t owe you shit.”
He looks at me coldly. “I heard about that letter. It wasn’t me. I’m sure you don’t exactly trust me, but you should on this.”
“I don’t trust you, you’re right.”
Lance takes out a money clip from his front pocket. He doesn’t bother counting, but I see a hundred-dollar bill on the front of the large bundle of cash. He throws it towards my feet. “Take it. Take it and go. Don’t call Winters to drive you. Call an Uber, take a taxi—whatever. Just fucking go.”
“I would never take your money. I’m not your charity case.”
“Yeah, you’re just using my family to get what you want. Not charity, right?”
I laugh. “You haven’t had to work a hard day in your life, have you? And I’m the charity case. I work for what I get in life, you were born into yours.”
Lance comes closer to me, until I’m forced to look up at him. “You don’t know what I’ve been through. You don’t know shit.” He points at the clip on the pavement. “That’s enough to start somewhere else. Take that opportunity.”
I take a step back. “I’ll show you what I can do. I’ll show you all my worth. Take your money back. I won’t cheapen myself to take a dollar of it.”
Lance takes a step forward. I can almost feel his body against mine. In my rage, I almost feel like shoving him back, but I worry his father could be watching again. Lance raises an eyebrow at me, bends at his knees, and picks up his money clip, tucking it back in his pocket.
I take a few steps backward, saying nothing. I turn and walk back towards the guesthouse feeling victorious. When I get inside, I peek through the front window, making sure I’m hidden from the curtains inside. I watch Lance as he looks around. From his expression, he almost seems lost on his own property. He looks towards the guesthouse, and I quickly hide away from the window. After a few moments, I peek outside again, and he is walking back towards his home.
Yeah, fuck off!
I walk into the guesthouse and pick up a phone on the kitchen counter. I call Anna Green.
“Hey, Elle,” Anna says. “Do you need something?”
“More nachos with extra cheese, please.”
I can hear her say “No problem” as I bring down the receiver, almost breaking the phone.
Fuck this town, and everyone in it.
Chapter 4
Jaxson is huffing loudly with each repetition he makes lifting the fifty-pound dumbbells. Each bicep curl looks like it will make his arm explode from bulging muscles. I’m completely captivated by it as I lift my ten-pound weights.
It was his idea to work out together. I didn’t really feel up for going out after getting the letter today, but he insisted on seeing me. He smiles at me as he grunts one last rep.
I’m very pleased that I accepted his workout request, now that I think of it.
I need to take full advantage of having a full gym close to the guesthouse.
Jaxson takes a towel and wipes the sweat from his glistening chest.
Again, I find myself pleased to be working out with this muscled superhero who decided to work out shirtless.
“What’s our next exercise?” he asks me with a smirk.
I’m almost too captivated by his body to answer. “Well, you know how to have a better workout then I would.”
“How about you spot me doing some chest exercises?”
I laugh. “You’re probably going to lift a thousand pounds. How exactly am I going to spot you?”
“I only take on what I can confidently handle.” He smiles at me again. I usually don’t think corny flirting is too hot, but when that guy is shirtless and looks like Jaxson, he can say anything he wants and still be dead sexy.
We walk over to a dumbbell rack. He grabs two hundred-pound dumbbells and sits at a bench.
“You only take on what you can handle, eh?” I say laughing.
He smiles and leans his body backwards, keeping the weights at his chest. When he is lying down on the bench, he tells me to put my arms under his elbows. I do, and he extends his arms out and begins lifting the weights. He grunts again with each rep, and I must admit, it sort of turns me on.
“You shouldn’t be so loud,” I say. “People may get the wrong idea if they hear you.”
He finishes his set and sits back up. I clumsily try and spot him back to his starting position. He doesn’t really require my assistance, but smartly lets me think he does.
“I don’t mind.” He points at his towel, and I throw it at his face playfully.
He continues with another set of chest presses. I watch his muscles in adoration with every flex they make. It amazes me how every movement makes his chest barrel out. I grab his towel and start to pat his chest down as he continues his set.
“Sorry, you’re all sweaty. Can’t have that.”
He finishes his set and looks up at me. “I need more than a towel. I think I need a shower. Do you think you may be able to help me in there too?”
I nod my head playfully and bite my lower lip. I lean over him on the bench and kiss him. “I didn’t show you the showers when I gave you the tour of the gym. How dumb of me. How about I give you a better tour?”
I take his hand and lead him towards the changing rooms.
Jaxson notices the large boxing ring in the back of the gym and lets go of my hand. “Now this is pretty cool. Fucking rich people. Cain has an actual boxing ring in his gym? I wish I had a set up like this back home.” He turns and looks at me. “Care to go a few rounds with me in the ring?”
Before I can answer, a loud noise startles me from behind. I turn, and Lance is in his workout gear, looking at Jaxson with a smirk.
Lance points at the ring. “Children aren’t allowed to play in there.”
“What did you say, Cain?” Jaxson says quickly.
“You definitely shouldn’t go in the ring if you already have hearing problems. I’m a nice guy though. If you want to go a few rounds, I can show you what would happen.”
“What would happen, exactly?” Jaxson folds his large arms, making sure to flex them as he does.
Lance smiles. “Boxing is an art, unlike tossing a ball around like a beast. You go in there with someone, you need to understand who they are. Are they going to lead with a right? What’s their footwork like? All of this you have to figure out as quickly as you can, before your opponent does it with you.”
Jaxson smiles back. “So, you think you figured me out, Cain?”
“I think boxing is an art, and you’re still finger painting.”
I put my arm against Jaxson’s chest. “Who cares about him? Let’s go.” Jaxson nods his head.
Lance waves his head side to side. “Don’t you guys need your showers? The changing rooms aren’t intersex, by the way.”
We leave the gym after our encounter with Lance. I decide to shower at the guesthouse, but Jaxson says he wants to call it a night. I’m not sure if the rise in testosterone got him out of the mood, but I understand.
I walk Jaxson back to where his Jeep is parked, holding hands. When we get to his vehicle, he pulls on my hand, bringing me towards him. He kisses me sensually. “I’ll be thinking about you all night,” he whispers in my ear.
I smile. “You sure you don’t want to stay a bit at the guesthouse?”
He nods his head. “I got practice in the morning. No matter what Lance Cain thinks of what I do, football is also an art. Would love to get that guy on the field to see what he’s actually made of.”
“You don’t have to let him ruin our night,” I say, tugging at his arm.
“I’m not. It’s complicated with Lance, that’s all.”
Complicated? With Lance?
I thought I was the only one who thought of him that way. I didn’t think Jaxson and Lance knew each other that well.
“Want to chill tomorrow?” Jaxson asks me. I shake my head no. “Let me guess, Chase is with you?”
I shake my head and feel a tinge of guilt. “No, I swear it’s not that. Arthur Cain has this charity event at his home. I’ve been asked to come.”
“Do you want me to come as back-up?”
I smile. “I can handle myself, but I appreciate it.”
Jaxson kisses me again before getting into his Jeep. I wave at him as he pulls out of the Cains’ driveway.
I walk towards the guesthouse, taking in the full moon above.
Why didn’t Jaxson stay?
As I get closer to the guesthouse, I notice what looks like a small package in front of the door. I can feel my heart racing as I get closer.
When I do, I notice a white envelope on top of the package. I feel like my heart is about to explode inside my chest.
If I had a phone, I wouldn’t hesitate to call 911 immediately. I look at the small package. If I did call the police, I would demand a bomb squad as well.
Another letter, and now a box.
I think about running towards the gym to get Lance, but don’t.
For all I know, Lance put this here before he came to the gym.
I pick up the envelop and open it slowly.
I feel confused when all that’s written in it is two words.
Sorry. Lance.
I pick up the light package and open it. Inside is a new cellphone.
I look towards the gym and shake my head, laughing to myself.
The complicated story of Lancelot Cain continues.
Chapter 5
I had forgotten how beautiful Arthur Cain’s mansion is. It’s been a while since I stepped inside. I watch the guests flow through the beautiful foyer that could have been the size of a regular house. A large banquet area on the main floor is decorated with no expense sparred. You could almost think someone was getting married instead of it being some charity function for the poor.
I wonder how it would be if the poor was invited to an event for the poor? Too Twilight Zone for the people to be giving money to the needy to meet any of the people they give to.
I wonder how I would be if I became rich and powerful like Arthur Cain. Would I throw functions like this? Would I build wings in hospitals for sick children like him? Or would I spend it all on myself?
I spot Marta walking around the room carrying a drink tray with glasses of red and white wine. I stop her by putting my hand out playfully and point at a glass.
She waves her head. “In your dreams, dearie.” She brushes past me with a smile.
I spot Thomas Winters at the edge of the party. He seems just as uncomfortable as I do. I walk up to him. Lately, Thomas kind of creeps me out with how polite and robotic he comes off, but being at a party and him being one of the few people I know here gets me excited to see him.
“I guess you have to come to these things to?” I ask him.
He looks at me with a thin smile. “Suppose so.”
I look out at the crowd of rich look
ing people with their fancy dresses and suits. I may blend in tonight with my own fancy clothes that I’m wearing, but I’m not one of them. I can tell, neither is Thomas.
“So, since you’re probably a pro at these events now, tell me how bored I am going to be for the rest of the night?” I ask.
Thomas raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say a word.
Right. Now I remember why talking to Thomas is so bad. I have no clue what to say, for fear of him raising his eyebrows at me again or giving me a one-word answer. Instead I just sit back, watching the crowd with him. Before I can make a stupid comment on how nice the weather has been lately, Thomas leaves and walks through the crowd.
Marta walks up to him with her tray of drinks and seems to offer him one. He looks at her with disgust and continues to walk through the crowd.
I notice as he walks away that he’s wearing his infamous black leather gloves. I smile to myself, wondering how much of a germaphobe Thomas Winters really is. He had the same look of disgust when he stepped in scrambled eggs in the guesthouse last week. I could see the rage in his eyes as he cleaned his shoe under the kitchen sink. It was unsettling.
I look at the artwork on the wall behind me. I’m not an art girl, but they look expensive. The artists don’t have recognizable names like Picasso, but I’m sure they are worth a lot. I smile to myself, thinking that one of these paintings could probably fund my whole post-secondary education.
I continue to look at the different artwork, until I walk past several photos of men. A teenaged man is sitting in an expensive leather backed chair, while an older man stands beside him with an arm on the boy’s shoulder. I look at the photo next to it, and it’s the same pose, but with different men. I look at the younger boy and notice a great resemblance to Arthur Cain. I smile to myself. He was a handsome man when he was young, and he looks somewhat like Lance in the photo. Sure enough, the photo beside it has none other than Lance himself in the same chair, with Arthur standing beside him, his hand on his shoulder. Lance has an expression of discomfort on his face, as if he isn’t used to his father touching him or having his picture taken.
“What a pity,” a female voice says behind me. I turn and see an older woman, who looks exceptionally well for however old she may be. She is wearing a gorgeous white dress and matching earrings. “All these old and young men, without a trace of the women responsible for bearing them. You would think these rich men were conceived inside a bank account.” I laugh, probably a bit too hard. Some of the rich suits around me look at me as if I’m insane.
