After a quick glance around the living room, and remembering my mom wasn’t too far away in the kitchen, I figured it would be best if we headed up to my room and practiced there. That way, only Bobbi would hear my cat-screeching voice.
I took her upstairs. Felt weird, almost like giving someone a tour of a house that wasn’t mine, even though I technically did live here. As we pushed into my room and I told her she could drop her bag anywhere, I closed the door. It would give us some semblance of privacy, at least, though I bet my mom would find a way to come up here and bug us again.
The room was way bigger than I’d like, full of empty space and furniture that was just a tad too nice for me. I meant it when I said my mom and I literally dropped everything to come here. The only things we took were our clothes and some knickknacks; everything else we threw out or left. Abandoning your old life was not something I would wish upon anyone.
Except maybe Archer. I’d like to see how he would fare without the money and the bitchy girlfriend.
Dread for singing rose in my gut as I sat on my bed and got out my sheet music. Bobbi went to my desk, spinning the chair out as she did the same. She knew how to read sheet music and figure out pitch and tone a whole lot better than me. If I could sing, I’d be jealous. Then again, if I could sing, maybe I would’ve taken choir at my old school and been just as good as she was at it all.
“You know,” Bobbi said, “with the choir concert in less than two weeks…” She trailed off, causing me to look at her, my brows drawing together in confusion.
“What?”
“I’m just thinking, I might know the perfect way to get back at Brittany and her crew,” she said, eyes on me as she bit her bottom lip. “The winter formal is the week after the concert. She won homecoming queen, and I don’t doubt she thinks she’ll win the crown there, too—this time with Archer.”
I had no idea where she was going with this, but I was listening. If Bobbi’s plan was for me to campaign and miraculously beat Brittany at her own game, it would fail spectacularly. There was no way I’d win, so that’s what I told her.
“If your plan is for me to beat her, let me stop you right there,” I said. “There is absolutely no way I can get a single vote for something like that. I mean, look at me, first off. And second, the whole school is on Brittany’s side, anyway. I don’t think anyone would vote for me.”
“If you go the honorable route, but if we stage it right, it won’t matter who gets the most votes.”
All I could do was blink. Was Bobbi saying we should rig the results? Color me intrigued, because it was not where I thought she was going with this at all.
I fell onto my stomach, bouncing a bit on the bed and propping up my face with a hand beneath my chin as I stared at her. “Go on.”
“I have a friend who’s on the council. She’s in charge of tallying the votes and printing off the ballot the principal will read at the dance.”
“And she’ll help?”
Bobbi nodded. “She used to be Brittany’s friend, back in elementary school. Then Brittany got her period and grew boobs before everyone else, and she dropped her the moment she realized the power she had over the boys.” She shrugged. “She’s been harboring resentment toward her ever since. Brittany has a way of excluding people, making them feel like shit about themselves and basically victim-blaming. She’ll help, and by the time everyone realizes the result was rigged, it’ll be too late.” A sly smile spread across her face. “I bet it’ll be epic, Brittany’s reaction to losing.”
I nodded with her, because I could totally see her throwing some shit for losing. As if a stupid crown at a stupid high school dance actually meant something. Here’s a hint: it didn’t. Not really. It was just a gaudy piece of fake jewelry that would age and get dusty as the years wore on.
Then again, this was Midpark. Maybe the crown wouldn’t be so fake after all.
“You really think we could pull something like that off?” I asked. I’d be down for it; in the meantime, I could plan with Vaughn some way to get back at Archer.
“I’m sure of it,” she said, toying with the corner of her sheet music. “As long as you’d be okay with it. Honestly, I’d love to watch Brittany fall down a few pegs.”
Her friend would probably get in trouble for helping, but frankly, I was kind of okay with it. Even if I got in trouble too, I’d be fine with it. That bitch could go fall in a ditch for all I cared.
“I didn’t even plan on going,” I said. Honestly, anytime the dance was talked about on the announcements, I tuned out. Getting all dolled up and going to a dance was the last thing I wanted to do right now, but I could make sacrifices. “I need to buy a ticket, get a dress—”
“This weekend I’m busy, but next weekend we can totally go,” Bobbi spoke, grinning, almost like she was thrilled at the prospect of shopping…like a normal girl, basically.
My friends and I used to go shopping, but we’d rarely come home with anything. It was more of a clearance-rack shopping trip than anything.
Hold up.
Where was I going to get the money for this impromptu shopping trip? I just shoved all the money I had left over in an envelope and put it in my mom’s purse, and I knew if I asked her outright for money to buy a dress—a dress that, around here, would cost more than double the dresses back home—she’d laugh in my face.
Plus, Mom wouldn’t want me going to a dance anyway, because there’d be boys there, and heaven forbid those things got close to me.
Maybe it was stupid, maybe I was only setting myself up to fail, but I found myself agreeing with Bobbi, telling her that we would indeed go dress shopping next weekend. She already had hers, apparently; it was just mine we’d get. I’d figure out the money situation later.
For now, singing.
Bobbi did her best to teach me, just as she’d been doing ever since Ms. Haber put her with me as a tutor of sorts. I at least knew the lyrics to the songs we were singing, so I was making progress. The whole pitch thing still tripped me up, but Bobbi was confident that, by the time the concert rolled around, I’d be fine.
I wasn’t so sure, but I guessed only time would tell.
Bobbi was gone when dinnertime rolled around, which was fine. Everything was moving fast, so I needed a break. I literally just needed to lay there in my bed and zone out. All this planning, constantly being ready to be at war with the entirety of Midpark, was draining.
Maybe I’d take a bath.
Mom and I ate dinner first. Oliver wasn’t home yet, which wasn’t so odd. He literally worked all hours of the day, but if this place was really as bad as Bobbi said, as unsafe as Vaughn and Jacob made it out to be, there were probably a lot of rich families that needed him to work on their cases.
Mom could not stop asking about Bobbi during dinner. It was kind of annoying, how much my mom clearly wanted me to make friends. It’d be easier for me to make friends if, I don’t know, we weren’t in a hoity-toity town full of rich bitches and cute bastards. Yeah, to make friends with most of these people was akin to lifting a knife to your own throat and holding it there. Bobbi was nice, and I liked her, but I still didn’t know whether I’d go so far as to call her a friend.
Even if, you know, she was helping me get back at Brittany in the best way—a way I would never have come up with on my own.
To steal her crown. It was a fun thought, and it was one I entertained as I dodged my mom’s questions during dinner.
Once dinner was over, I told her, “I think I’m going to take a bath.”
“That’s fine, honey.” Mom gave me a smile. “I really do hope you hang out with that girl again. She seemed nice. You should have a friend during your senior year.”
Of course, I wanted to tell her that I would have friends if she hadn’t uprooted me out of nowhere and forced us to move here shortly after my eighteenth birthday, but I kept that comment to myself.
I headed up the stairs, going to the bathroom I used, starting the water in the tub. I left th
e room, about to head to my bedroom to grab some pajamas to change into after the bath, but I stopped in the middle of the hallway, trying to listen.
My mom was still downstairs, Ollie still at work. I was alone up here, which meant I could do something I really shouldn’t.
I tiptoed to my mom’s room, finding her purse in the middle of a bunch of unfolded clothes on her dresser, exactly where it was in the morning. My mom might be in charge of keeping the house clean, but when it came to her room, she was still the mother I knew from before, having hardly a care in the world.
I shouldn’t do what I was about to do; my mom’s van was more important than a stupid dress, but the urge to get back at that bitch clouded out my judgment, so I did the one thing I shouldn’t. I reached into her purse, found the untouched envelope with the cash in it, and tucked it into the waistband of my jeans. A sense of alarm filled me, and it did not disappear until I made it to my room, was able to close the door—and lock it—and stashed the envelope back under my bed.
I felt awful, really. A bit selfish, but for the first time in my life, I wanted to do something. I wanted to be selfish, to rock a pretty dress and get back at the bitch who saw fit to make a fool out of me. And maybe to drug me. The blame for that went both on Brittany’s back and Archer’s.
In the beginning, Archer hadn’t seemed like a bad guy, so I did wonder if he knew the extent of it all. Would that make what he did any better? I didn’t know the answer.
I made it back to the bathroom, my mind racing. The whole purpose of taking a bath was to relieve some stress and not have my thoughts fighting for dominance in my head. To let me lay back in the warm water, close my eyes, and temporarily try to forget all of the shit that had risen up in my life recently.
Because that’s what it was—a shitstorm of epic proportions.
After shutting the door, I started to shed my clothes, piece by piece until I stood there, naked. My pants made a loud sound as they fell onto the tiled floor; my phone sat in my back pocket, tempting me to use it. To talk to the one boy I shouldn’t.
Here’s a hint: I didn’t have Vaughn’s number. The only guy whose number I had was Archer’s, and I really shouldn’t think about texting him.
I pulled my hair up into a loose clip, pinning it to the top of my head. I let the water get as high as it possibly could before shutting it off, and as I sunk into the warm, steaming water, I let out a sigh.
My eyes stared at my feet for a long while, and I wriggled my toes. Who knew my life would get so complicated after coming to Midpark? Then again, I never would’ve guessed, even in my wildest of dreams, that my mom would ever force me to uproot my entire life and come to a rich town like this. It was hard, not going to lie. So, so hard, adjusting to a life like this, being an outsider, not knowing if what you were doing was right.
I sighed again, heaving myself away from the back of the tub and bending over the side to reach for my phone. My fingers were able to snag the bottoms of my jeans and tug them closer, letting me get to it. I had to dry my palms and fingers on the jeans, but once I did, I brought my phone back with me.
I hadn’t spent much time on my phone lately, because Mom had taken us to our cell carrier’s store and forced them to give us new numbers, along with wiping the phone completely. All of my pictures, gone. All of my apps, gone. Before she brought me there, she sat next to me and watched me get rid of and delete my social media profiles. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat—everything, all gone.
It sucked. Majorly.
Maybe it was because I felt the need to talk to someone, maybe it was because I secretly hoped he wouldn’t see it right away, but I found myself reaching out to someone I most certainly shouldn’t. Not yet, not while I was in the bath, not until I figured out what the hell I was going to do with him.
Well, at least it wasn’t Archer, right?
No, the person whom I reached out to right then was the one, the only, Jacob Hall.
Chapter Ten – Jacob
Using my contacts for someone else was the last thing I wanted to do on a Friday night, but that bastard had me. I supposed I could push, see if he really did have a video of me taking Jaz home, but if I went that far, I might anger him, and then he might go ahead and turn the video in anyway.
If the police got a video like that…considering why I was out of a job with them, they’d definitely look into it. They’d suspect me immediately, siding with the clearly fucked-up man with tattoos.
Honestly, it was a game I simply did not wish to play. Could you blame me? After the world had literally pissed on me again and again, I just wanted to keep my head down, make some money, and live out the rest of my life.
Even that seemed like too much trouble lately.
I was on the phone with him. Dante Storm. What kind of fucking name was that?
I’ll tell you: it wasn’t a name at all. Dante Storm was not his real name; if I had to guess, I’d say the Storm bit was of his own imagination. Googling the word storm yielded far too many web results for me to narrow it down, so I was just as clueless now as I was then, only I’d reached out to my contacts this week and had them doing what they did best.
If you had money, there really was no limit to what you could do. I had to spend some of my hard-earned money on paying my contacts for their help, but I was due another payment from Mr. Anonymous soon, and I’d have to speak to Jaz about that, too. I wasn’t worried about making rent or paying bills; I’d used my get out of Midpark money, so I had to restock.
“You should be good to go Monday,” I told him. I was sitting on my couch in the living room, my feet kicked up on the coffee table before me. Papers sat scattered on the table, and I pinched the bridge of my nose as I wondered what kind of mess I was pushing Jaz’s way.
I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t give a shit…but I knew I’d long passed that point. Even though she should be just another client to me, she was a bit more, and I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to see that girl get hurt, and I had no idea what me helping Dante get into Midpark High would do.
I guess I’d just have to keep an eye on her even more than I already was.
That should bother me. I should want to keep my distance, but I didn’t.
“I knew you were the man to ask,” Dante spoke on the other line. “I really appreciate it, man. Tell you what: I can put in a good word for you with the lady.” The lady. He had to have meant Jaz, which meant he planned on talking about me to her.
“No,” I quickly spoke, shaking my head even though he couldn’t see me. “I’d rather you didn’t bring up my name to Jaz.”
There was a moment of silence before Dante said, “You should know I don’t like being told what to do. I do what the fuck I want when I want, you know? But, since you did help me with minimal complaining, I suppose I can keep this little secret between us. You did do me a favor by getting me in there so fast.”
I didn’t want to tell this guy that I’d spent most of what I had saved to expedite the process of getting a birth certificate made for him, but it kind of went hand in hand with the other thing he asked me to do for him.
“Look,” I started, “about finding you a place—”
“Ah, you know, I have been thinking about that,” Dante cut in. “I think it would be best if I found a place on my own. You know, this is a big town. I’m sure someone needs a bodyguard or something.”
I frowned to myself. No family in Midpark would let a stranger that looked like him sleep in an extra bed on their property. No one. Dante Storm was not Midpark material, and even if he went through with whatever asinine plan he had, he would never fit in here. Kind of like me.
“Well,” I started, leaning back on the couch, “are we done here?”
Dante laughed on the other line. “Sounds like you want to be done with me, Jacob Hall. Kind of rude. Someone like me might take offense to that.”
Other people might fear threats from a man like Dante, but I was beyond that point. The video had me by the f
ucking balls, but any physical threats just slid right off me. You could not hurt a man who’d already done the worst to himself.
Oh, just like every other fucker in this town, I had my secrets. However, my secrets did not involve an underaged mistress or drug problems. My secrets were much worse than that, much deadlier. The reality was no one knew the real Jacob Hall.
I thought I hid it all rather well, considering how much I just didn’t give a shit lately. It wasn’t something I was proud of, but it was what made me who I was today. Those fucking twins had seen me, somehow known something was off with me, but they didn’t know the truth, the full extent of my past. No one could.
“I’ll let you off,” Dante’s voice broke into my head, “for now. I don’t think you and I are done, though. You and Jaz seem to be awfully close. If I have my way, I’m going to be spending a lot of time with her, which, I would imagine, would lead me to spend a lot of time with you. You haven’t seen the last of me, Jacob.”
I had a comeback ready—something so full of swearwords…okay, it was mostly swearwords—but the bastard hung up before I had the chance to say anything. With a scowl, I brought my phone away from my ear, glaring at it, as if Dante could see my glare on his end.
The motherfucker. I really didn’t like him.
You know what? I really didn’t like most people, which made living in general hell.
I hated dealing with people like Dante, too. The blackmailers were the worst. He was a fucking stranger to me, and yet he somehow knew my weakness. After all, it shouldn’t matter anymore. It wasn’t like I had a job to protect.
But, fuck, a video showing me putting a drugged-out Jazmine Smith in my car was a way to get to me. If a video like that got out, even if Jaz cleared the air and I wasn’t arrested, I’d still be ruined. I was already a pariah in this town; they were likely to kick me out entirely if something else happened. The thing with Celeste three years ago had already started to unravel the good life I had for myself.
Defiant: A High School Bully Romance (Midpark High Book 2) Page 11
