Cruel Legacy

by K. A. Linde

“Was it all of them? All of the ones that you told me to invite?”

  He shook his head. “Not…all of them.”

  I groaned. “Just most of them.”

  “Look, it’s not like I’m proud of it. They were the easiest way to piss off Katherine.”

  “I know. I know. Aren’t I using them the same way?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Are you?”

  “I don’t know them. And I need help and people to come to this charity event that I’m hosting. In some way, I’m using their connections to pull this off.”

  “And to make Katherine mad?”

  “It’s an added bonus,” I told him.

  “And how did she feel about that? Pissed, like I’d guessed?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “Harmony booked us into her booth. I didn’t know it was hers. Katherine asked to have it back, and when I said no and refused to back down, she told me that Jane was the one who had told her about my pen name.”

  Penn sucked in a breath, and his grip tightened on my shoulder. “Nat…”

  “Yeah,” I said, holding back the tears again.

  “I should have seen that coming.”

  “You’ve never liked Jane.”

  “No. It wasn’t really anything to do with Jane. It was the fact that she was dating my brother. Anyone who willingly puts up with him has to be bad news. I don’t really know Jane.”

  “I thought I did,” I admitted. “I thought we were friends.”

  “You were…are.”

  “I don’t know, Penn. Maybe it’s normal to betray your friends on the Upper East Side, but that isn’t normal to me. When I found out, I flipped out, and I made her leave. She said that she did it to get the Percys.”

  “For what?”

  “She didn’t say, but I’m sure it’s to help with her club funding. When we first became friends when I came into the city, I know that she met Lewis through me and he gave her a contact to get some kind of backing to open.”

  Penn ran his fingers back through my hair. “She’s business savvy. That’s for sure. I wonder how much Court has invested into that club.”

  I shrugged. I hadn’t thought about that. “Is it stupid that I want to call her? That I want to clear things up between us and make things right?”

  “No, Natalie, that’s not stupid. You’re a good person. That’s how you deal with situations like this.”

  “I’m not,” I whispered. “I made her go, and I stayed so that Katherine wouldn’t see how upset I was.”

  His finger moved to my chin, and he tilted my head up to look at him. “That doesn’t make you a bad person. And wanting to make up with your friend, no matter what they did to you, is human. When I found out about Lewis’s business dealings, I called him. Without a second thought. Despite all the bullshit we’d been through.”

  “Yeah. But…I can’t call Jane.”

  “Probably not right now. Not while you’re a little drunk and worked up about it.”

  “Ugh,” I groaned, burying my head into the pillow. “I just remembered that we’re having the charity event at Trinity.”

  “So? Jane is a professional. She won’t miss the chance to have your event there even if you’re on the outs. She’ll probably see it as an opportunity to make up.”

  I gritted my teeth and then propped myself up on my elbow to look at him. “What if I’m not ready for that?”

  “You’ll know when you are.”

  “How do you know?”

  He sighed and pressed a soft kiss on my lips. The sleep was wiped from his face, and he looked oddly serious. “I understand the bounds of friendship. And what splits you up and what can keep you together.”

  I frowned at the phrasing of that. I knew that he had been through a lot with the crew and that was why they were so tight despite the horrors they’d inflicted on each other and others outside of their circle. But it felt like he was saying more.

  “What do you mean by that?” I asked.

  “What Jane did was wrong. She knows it was wrong. It’s up to you two to determine whether that ends or strengthens your friendship.” He paused, as if uncertain about what he was going to say next. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a while. I keep making excuses for it. For not telling you. But I think…I think I should.”

  “You’re kind of freaking me out,” I admitted.

  “It’s nothing about us,” he insisted. “It’s a part of my past that no one knows. Only the people who were there.”

  “The crew?” I guessed.

  “Yes. Me, Katherine, Lewis, Lark, Rowe, and Addie, at the time. And a girl we knew, Hanna Stratton.”

  I straightened in bed at that name. “The girl who killed herself?”

  Penn startled. He sat up, too. “How did you hear that?”

  “Lewis told me. Well, actually, Addie told me that if I didn’t know about Hanna, then I didn’t really know the crew. And Lewis said that you were all friends, and then, when she went to rehab, she killed herself. It was one of the reasons Lewis and Addie broke up and Addie left the group.”

  Penn was silent. It stretched until it was taut. As if, at any second, it would snap.

  “That’s what he said?” Penn finally asked.

  I swallowed and nodded. “I’m guessing…that’s not the whole answer?”

  “Well, it’s the answer we all agreed on all those years ago.”

  “What…what does that mean?”

  Penn looked down and then back up at me. Resignation on his face. As if he’d had a ten-ton brick on his shoulder and he was finally going to lift it. “So…you weren’t the first bet we ever made. For a long time, we all made them just for kicks. We bet on everything. It was childish and stupid, but it was practically intrinsic to how the crew functioned.

  “Then our junior year, a new girl showed up to our school. Her name was Hanna. She was new money and had clearly been top dog at her last school in, like, Indiana or something. That clearly did not translate to the Upper East Side, as you are well aware.”

  “I was a loner, but yes, I know the sentiment. Nothing translates here.”

  “She was a fish out of water. A pariah. Katherine joked one day and said that she could make her one of the most popular girls in school. I bet her on it. She said it was too easy. So, I said I bet I could get her to sleep with me.”

  I frowned, reflexively backing away from this version of Penn. The one who had hurt me so completely with such a similar bet.

  “Anyway, it isn’t really the bet that mattered. I won. We made Hanna one of us. I slept with her. Katherine had been right. It had all been too easy. It was wrong on so many levels.” He shook his head, as if trapped in the whirlwind of that time all those years ago. “After that, we all dropped her like it was nothing. We ostracized her. It went around school that she was a whore and gave it up easy, that her young, innocent vibe was just an act, that she was a drug addict. The world is a cruel place. But we made cruel acceptable.”

  “That’s awful,” I said. “She probably felt so alone.”

  “Yeah. It was awful, Natalie. It’s something I deeply regret. And it got worse.”

  “Worse? Worse than sleeping with her and bullying her?”

  He frowned. “I wasn’t a good person. I never claimed to be. But it was Hanna that opened my eyes. I wish I could take it back.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “Well, she came back to me and begged to make it stop, to take her back.” He couldn’t even meet my eyes. The sorrow and turmoil was all over his face. “I wasn’t exactly kind in my response. She went to Lewis that night. They slept together, and as you can imagine, that just made it worse.”

  “Christ, Penn.”

  “I know. Katherine got tired of the whole thing after that. She never liked when the attention was on anyone but herself. And she pretended to want to befriend her again…and then planted drugs on her.”

  My gasp was audible. “Seriously?”

  “We’d all dabble
d. Hanna had with us, too, when she was on the inside. But…she wasn’t a drug addict. And I didn’t find out about what Katherine had done with the drugs until after Hanna’s parents found out and sent her to rehab.”

  “Oh god. Where she killed herself? “Because you’d all tortured her.”

  He bobbed his head. “It was a horrible day. I’m not proud of what happened. In fact, it’s my deepest regret. After that, Addie couldn’t take it. Not because Lewis had cheated. They did that to each other all the time. But it was part of what had driven Hanna over the edge. Addie blamed us. Rightly so. And left. But we all agreed not to speak of it again. We had a story for what had happened, and we stuck by it. Our crew shrank and tightened after that. We had too many secrets by then.”

  I didn’t know what to say. There was nothing to say after all. This had all happened a dozen years ago or more. They’d been young and stupid.

  Cruel boys and girls cementing their cruel legacy in blood.

  Hanna had been the unfortunate victim in all of this. She’d paid the ultimate price for the heinous crime of wanting to belong. I knew it well enough. The way that Katherine could deceive. Lewis could charm. Penn could seduce. They were all fucked up in their own ways. Party to their own manipulations and machinations. Destruction trailing in their wake.

  I felt akin to Hanna for what she’d gone through. What we’d both gone through. The humiliations we’d endured at the hands of the Upper East Side. And I felt justified in my actions. In the way I was getting back at them.

  Because I’d said from the beginning of all of this that I was not the first person that they’d hurt, nor would I be the last if they kept getting away with it. I was here to teach them a lesson. Lewis was already learning it. Katherine was well on her way. The admission about the first real bet, the one that had cemented the crew into perpetuity, just proved that I was doing the right thing. I was doing this for people like Hanna. So that no one had to go through what she had gone through, what I’d gone through, again. Not ever again.

  I leaned back against the bed. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”

  “Do you…think less of me?” he asked cautiously. “I wouldn’t blame you. I think less of me for it.”

  “No, I don’t.” And I didn’t. “You tried to get out after that. You wanted to be something more and something better. You learned your lesson. That’s more than I can say for the rest of the crew.”

  He settled back down on the bed. His hand slipped under my shoulders and drew me back to him. “I’ve never told anyone that story. And we never talk about what happened. I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life to get that off my chest.”

  “You should have seen a therapist.”

  He chuckled and kissed the top of my head. “Probably. But my mother sees it as weakness.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Everyone should see a therapist. We’re all so fucked up. Talking is the only way we can work through what happened. After I left the Hamptons, I went every day. Well…after I could pick myself up off Amy’s floor.” I sighed. “It helped me survive but not get over it. You helped with that.”

  “I am sorry about the bet. And our year apart. And Lewis. And Katherine. And what happened with Jane tonight. About all of it. I wish we could turn back time and start over.”

  I nudged him. “If we started over, I’d never still be here. I wouldn’t have been able to hack it.”

  “I doubt that.”

  I shrugged. I had major doubts. I was putting one foot in front of the other and coming out on top by sheer determination. The only thing that felt easy about the whole thing was Penn.

  “Do you think you’re going to make up with Jane?” he asked softly against my hair.

  “You think she’s part of my crew? That I should push past our betrayals and see our strength and bonds beneath it?”

  “I think that she was there when no one else was. That means something. You have to decide what it means to you.”

  I sank deeper into his arms. Penn was right. Jane had helped orchestrate the collapse of my career by aiding and abetting Katherine. Could I forgive her for that? If I did, would she do it again?

  I drifted off, still debating whether it would be worth it.

  And when I woke, I decided that I couldn’t risk it. Even if I wanted to.

  Chapter 30

  Natalie

  I threw the door to my apartment open and rushed inside. My feet were killing me from the walk back home and the three-story climb to my place. I kicked off the uncomfortable heels. Then I rounded the corner to find Penn pacing the living room.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know. I’m late,” I told him, holding my hands up. I dropped my planner and oversize St. Vincent bag onto the table in the hall and strode toward him. “The meeting ran over.”

  “It’s fine. I was just…”

  “Pacing?” I offered for him.

  “Yes.” He grinned at me.

  I took in the image of him standing there in chinos and a blue button-up with his sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hands in his pockets with Dermot Kennedy’s album playing from his phone. His blue eyes bore into mine, and I practically sighed with relief at seeing him.

  Party-planning had taken over my life. I hadn’t thought one charity function would become a full-time job. I was overworked and stressed and not even getting paid to do any of this. Harmony had brought on a party-planner, Gregory, to help with day-of on-site issues so that I could actually enjoy the party. And meeting with Gregory had been a lesson in how behind I was, even with Harmony and the lackeys helping. We were a matter of weeks from the big event, and I’d never felt such relief and blind panic that someone else was going to be responsible for getting this off without a hitch.

  “Are we going to be late?” I asked him. He’d been planning a surprise for me all week to get me away from this, and I didn’t want to ruin it. “Do I have time to change?”

  “We’re not going to be late,” he said. “Just put on something comfortable.”

  “You’re in that, and you want me in something comfortable. You do know that comfortable means lounging around the house in sweatpants, right?”

  “Track pants,” he said, following me into my bedroom to watch me take my clothes off.

  “Sure thing.” I reached into my closet and pulled out a pair of skinny designer jeans and an Elizabeth Cunningham top that she’d given me straight off a model last week when I went to see her about a dress for my event.

  “I said, comfortable,” he said with a laugh.

  “This is comfortable,” I assured him.

  “But not really…you.” He peeked into my closet and half-forgotten mound of bohemian clothes that I’d pushed to the very back and not touched in months. “We said that we’d always be ourselves when we were in private.”

  “But we’re not going to be in private,” I said as I tugged on the jeans.

  “What if we were?” he mused.

  I slipped the shirt over my head. “I don’t look okay?”

  “You look great,” he told me evenly. “You always do. You’ve just been so stressed out about this party. I don’t want you to get so wrapped up in all of this that you aren’t writing and you forget who you are.”

  “Oh, I love you,” I said, leaning into him and pressing a kiss to his lips. He wrapped his arms around me. “I know who I am. Clothes don’t change that.”

  “No, I suppose not. I know how demanding this all is. I don’t want you to use it to cover up your frustrations with writing. That’s your real passion, and this is just a hiccup.”

  I glanced up at him. “I had to turn down a seven-figure advance so that my ex-boyfriend couldn’t control me. I think I’m due a little moping about my career.”

  “A little,” he conceded. “Just until this event is over. Then you have to get back on the horse.”

  I winked at him. “Is that a euphemism?”

  He nipped at my bottom lip. “It will be later.” He smacked my ass and gest
ured for me to lead the way out of my apartment.

  I jumped at the contact, grabbed my purse, and then left my place. I locked up behind us. “Where’s Totle anyway? I thought I’d get attacked when I got home.”

  “Rowe is puppy-sitting.”

  “He’s obsessed with your dog.”

  “He is. And Nicholas adores him.”

  “Rowe or Totle?” I asked cheekily as we hit the street.

  “Both.”

  Penn hailed a cab, and we drove the dozen blocks north before I recognized the brick buildings that made up Columbia’s campus.

  “We’re going to your work? Did you want another round on your desk?”

  He lazily ran his thumb up and down my arm. “Are you offering?”

  “I might be.”

  “I will take that into consideration.” He gestured to the cab where to let us off. “This is good.” He passed the guy some cash and then helped me out of the car. Our fingers laced together as we stepped onto the brick-lined path that led into the heart of campus. “This way.”

  My curiosity was piqued as I followed him away from the philosophy department. We passed the library, walked across the quad, and went up past the business school. The sun was sinking low on the horizon. Undergrads were hastening past us and into the library to prepare for finals. A group quizzed each other from a set of flash cards. A pair of Columbia runners passed us in short black shorts, sweat glistening on their chests. Everywhere all around us showed signs of the end of the semester and the coming of summer. The bright hope extended even to me. Because in a few short weeks, that would mean that I would have Penn all to myself.

  We stopped in front of the physics building.

  “Physics?” I asked.

  “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  I looked at him skeptically. I had a degree in English. I’d been a collegiate swimmer. I had never stepped foot in the physics department. I’d basically lived in the fine arts department and the pool in college.

  He laughed when he saw my face. “Trust me.”

  I tightened my hold on his hand. I did.

  We took the elevator to the top floor and then another set of stairs to what appeared to be roof access. What the hell was on the top of the physics department?