by K. M. Raya
“Well if it isn’t Sunshine and the gang,” I greet them as I make a move to walk towards the school.
They move as a unit, flanking me on both sides. I fight my smile because I knew they were waiting for me.
“So when were you planning on talking to us about what happened the other day? Why did you back us up like that?” asks Holden.
His tone is innocent and curious, but I’m not an idiot.
I stop and they stop with me. Turning to the guys, I study them individually before responding. Holden’s done a total one-eighty since I’d managed to piss him off on the beach.
“It wasn't about backing you up. Trust me, there's no loyalty here in case that's what you're thinking. That was your friend’s house and those guys came in there to start something.”
I clear my throat awkwardly.
“And I have no idea what sort of beef you guys have with that guy—actually I don't even care, but coming into someone elses’ territory and pulling a knife is a huge no no where I come from.
That raises a few eyebrows.
“You should have left it alone, it was reckless and now Fin has you on his radar,” warns Carter.
I flick my eyes to his and frown.
“So you're saying I should have let him gut you like a fish then? Because thats what would have happened if I hadn’t intervened—you weren’t even looking.”
I place my hands on my hips and wait. He knows I’m right, they all do, but they'll never admit it.
“We don’t need some little girl getting in the way of business,” growls Carter.
I arch my brow at him.
“Business? What is this, Gossip Girl?” I laugh. “You guys could have seriously hurt someone. You should be thanking me, actually.”
Carter’s face is beet red and a vein pulses in his forehead. I’ve never seen such loathing directed at me before. His jaw clenches and his fists are tight at his sides.
That's going to be his downfall someday. The guy has absolutely zero poker face.
“Look,” snaps Ellis, forcing me to pry my gaze from Carter’s snare.
Ellis looks mean today. He has a black barbell piercing in his eyebrow and his black hair is freshly faded. My stomach flutters every time he turns those grey eyes on me.
“I get the whole tough girl act, but this isn't the Hamptons. Shit gets serious around here and you're going to get yourself hurt. You’re fucking lucky everyone left before you pulled that wimpy ass gun out.”
‘Wimpy gun my ass. That gun’s saved my life.’
“You want to talk about getting hurt? What about airing your dirty laundry in front of everyone in school? What about starting a fucking brawl during a house party?”
My body is almost flush with his now and I track his tongue and he flicks it out to lick his lips. The action seems involuntary and it makes me tingle.
“I’m not going to apologize for what happened. Even if you won't admit it, you needed me. Keep starting fights and next time I won't be there to bail your asses out.”
“You really think we—” Carter starts to say, but Holden stops him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Just let her go, man— she clearly has no sense of self preservation,” he sneers in my direction.
I’m sick of these entitled pricks ganging up on me. I have places to be and things to do that don’t involve these verbal sparring matches they seem to love so much.
I back away from Ellis and take a deep breath in as I go to turn away.
“It’s been super fun catching up, but I’m really tired of talking to you,” I tell them bluntly. I don’t give a shit. If they get to be assholes then so do I.
I take off towards the school building before they have a chance to respond, but just as I get out of earshot, I hear someone mutter ‘bitch,’ under their breath.
I can feel their eyes on my back as I walk away and I fight the urge to run the rest of the way. Instead, I walk with my head held high as people part for me. A short, gangly boy holds the door open for me and I thank him, much to his surprise.
The kids at this school don’t seem so bad from what I’ve seen so far. They don't pick on me, or gossip about me like I’d anticipated, but there's still a level of wariness to them that's created a sort of disconnect between us. Sure, Beth and the girls are cool and all, but it's like these people are . . . scared of me for some reason. I don't want them to fear me. They have the Brothers for that.
It's still early enough in the day that the halls are relatively empty. I make my way towards the center of the building where I know the admin offices are. The room I'd seen when I first came to get my school schedule is huge. In fact, it resembles a lobby more so than a high school reception office. One large room sits off to the side complete with black leather sofas, end tables filled with magazines and two flat screen TV’s mounted on the walls. If I ever wondered why private schools charged so much for tuition, this office just gave me an answer.
There's nobody at the front desk, but the hot coffee still steaming on the countertop tells me I’d only just missed them. I need to change around my schedule and add a study hall to the end of my day. Though I'm not quite struggling, I can feel myself slipping behind and I’d much rather spend that time studying and working on homework than wasting my time in PE.
A loud thud rumbles through the room. I follow it over to a long hallway with the lights still turned off. The hallway is empty and there are three doors on each side. All of them are closed, but only the last door on the right has a light shining from beneath the crack and from the long rectangular window towards the top of it.
I know I shouldn't, but I can't help my curiosity, so I creep down the dark hallway until I reach that door and peer through the window.
What I see makes me curse before slamming my palm over my mouth.
I see two grown men standing tall and menacing in front of none other than Captain Montgomery. The man on the right is leaning against the stark white walls, wearing a charcoal grey suit and dark brown dress shoes. He looks polished and important, but those blue eyes of his are mean and cold.
His blonde hair is the color of a sandy beach and it’s cut into a clean coif that matches the thick beard on his chin. It only takes a single look for me to realize who this is. Leaning backwards, I confirm it for myself when I read the name ‘Headmaster Jack Draven’ on the plaque next to the doorframe. He looks so similar to Carter that it would be impossible for him to be anyone else but his father.
The other man is even more striking than the first with his shock of white blonde hair, cut close to his scalp. His skin is tanned, but sort of leathery looking and at odds with his silk tie and several thousand dollar black suit. Each hand holds several rings on multiple fingers, glinting in the low, ambient lighting of Jack's office. I know instantly that this man is Captain’s father. I've never seen that unique hair and skin color combination before. His golden eyes flash as he glares at his son. I can't quite hear what he’s saying because the door to the office is so thick and heavy. His face looks red and the vein in his forehead seems like it could burst any second now.
Captain stands there while the man yells at him—his face is impassive and maybe even a little bored. His silvery blonde hair is parted neatly to the side and his arched blonde eyebrows look striking against his olive colored skin. His clothes are nicely pressed and his shiny dress shoes are immaculate. Captain’s white sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, showcasing a shiny Rolex watch as he shoves his hands in his pockets casually.
He opens his mouth to respond to his father, but in a flash, a fist hits the side of his face and blood splatters onto the white walls. Meanwhile, Headmaster Draven just stands there, leaning against the wall watching his colleague punch his own son.
Captain reels back, wiping the blood from his face but only serving to smear it all over his lower lip and cheek. He pulls his hand away from his face and stares down at his palm with something dark flashing in his eyes.
He doesn't g
et a chance to recover before his father grabs the back of his neck, twisting him around and slamming his face into the heavy mahogany desk. Captain hits hard—the thud reverberating through to the other side of the heavy door and I can't help but tighten my hand that covers my mouth to stifle my protests.
Captain is struggling to stand as blood gushes from his head wound. Still the man screams at him.
I move closer against my better judgement and before I can stop, my forehead smacks the glass window with a thump.
‘Fuck!’
The older men don’t even flinch—too caught up in dehumanizing the teenager in front of them, but Captain heard it. His blonde head snaps in my direction and our eyes meet. I refuse to move though. He’s already seen me. It's too late to pretend I didn’t just watch the whole thing.
His glare burns through me as he ignores his father who’s stomping around the room like a child. I’ve never seen an adult man behave in such a way. In the mob, men act like men. They keep their emotions bottled up on the inside, only unleashing the monster in their own private homes— not out in public for anyone to stumble in on. Mob men are clearly a different breed than these California aristocrats.
He stares at me still, hands balling into fists at his side. I can tell he wants to come over here, but he’s held in place by his father who suddenly lays his hand on Captain’s shoulder.
Captain winces visibly at the contact, fire raging in his eyes. I can tell it bothers him to look vulnerable in front of anyone— least of all me. I can't help but wonder why the hell he doesn't stand up to his father. It's not like Captain isn’t capable enough. Actually . . . he's almost bigger than both of the men in the room. At six and a half feet tall and around 190lbs, I'd be willing to bet money on him kicking both their asses any day or night.
But he doesn’t defend himself.
He cowers and averts his eyes.
It bothers me more than words can say.
His father's touch this time isn't a strike. He shakes Captain’s shoulder gently as he speaks softer now. A moment later, he’s handing him a clean white shirt— gesturing for him to change out of his bloody clothes. Captain takes the shirt from his outstretched hands. It's a practiced movement and he doesn't even blink at it. It's clear that I’ve stumbled on a situation that’s occurred more than once. His father obviously beats him on the regular.
Still though, I can't quite wrap my head around how casual they all are. Even Headmaster Draven watches them impassively. He’s moved to his desk chair now as Captain goes to switch clothes.
I can't help the way my eyes stray to Captain’s bare chest as he rips his soiled shirt over his head. My gaze tracks the hard lines of his body, soaking in every detail and biting my lip so hard that I draw blood.
Though he’s beautiful— all deep olive skin and abs for days, his torso is littered with bruises and healing cuts and gashes. I can see the welts lifting sections of his skin where later on they’ll turn to scars. His skin is blue in places and purple in others. Some of them have already started fading to a soft yellow or green.
It’s time to leave.
I need to get out of this hallway before someone finds me here.
I’m already late for class— an hour already having passed in the blink of an eye. I turn to leave, casting one last glance through the window only to find Captain staring right back at me. His eyes flash with shame before clouding over in seething anger. I can't look at him anymore. I hate the look in his eyes.
Fleeing the office altogether, I decide my schedule change can wait.
✽✽✽
Lunchtime is tense for multiple reasons, but number one on that list has to be the fact that none of the Brothers have taken their cold, unfeeling eyes off of me yet.
They sit over there at that table just for them, watching me like a pack of hyenas stalking their prey.
I’ve been ignoring them for about fifteen minutes now, but every once in a while meet their stares head on. I need them to know that they don't scare me. They may have the rest of the student body walking on eggshells around them, but not me.
Luckily though, I have Beth here to distract me. We've been sitting here listening to Kara complain about some boy in her class for the last ten minutes. I’m not really sure what he did to piss her off so much because I’m only half listening.
I can’t take it anymore.
“What's the deal with Captain’s dad?” I ask bluntly. The question stops their conversation abruptly and all three girls turn to me in confusion.
Beth raises a blonde eyebrow, placing her diet Coke down on the table softly.
“Giles Montgomery? He’s an ass, why?” she tells me, but I already know he’s an ass.
What I want to know are the dirty details. If anyone has the scoop it’ll be Bethany.
“I’ve gathered that,” I tell her around a bite of crisp apple. “But what does he do? What his deal?”
“He’s some sort of doctor, I think,” supplies Kara. I look to her as she continues. “He owns the Black Building down by the docks; you know the one with the sketchy people out front?”
I don’t know what the hell she’s talking about. I've barely had the chance to really explore Seaside, much less investigate their local businesses.
“She’s right, my aunt used to work for Giles a few years ago. It's some sort of drug testing facility— the kind that pays you to test commercial drugs and stuff. It's gross, my aunt said everyone there is basically homeless or an addict,” Beth tells me.
Interesting . . . I’ve seen places like that in New York, but always in the bad parts of town.
“Hmm, so he's like a legit doctor then?”
Beth breathes in deeply, running her fingers through her soft blonde hair in agitation. Her demeanor changed just now. Her eyes flicker from side to side, as if someone could be listening in on us right this very second.
“Listen, I don’t know why you'd care about that piece of shit, but I’m going to warn you right now to stay as far away from Giles Montgomery and all the men he’s mixed up with as you can. He’s bad news, trust me.” Beth’s eyes are serious. Not a trace of her usual humor to be found.
A cold feeling swells in my stomach.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” I implore her. I hope she feels like she can trust me. That's what friends do, they trust each other.
Looking over her shoulder one more time, she scoots closer in, leaning over the table slightly as if it will somehow make this conversation more discreet. The girls lean in too, creating a sort of cocoon around Beth.
“That man ruined my aunt’s life. Like I told you before, she used to work with him at the Black Building. She never really told me what she did there, but she started to get sick a few years ago. Nobody could tell us what was wrong with her. I guess Giles claims to have run tests to try and diagnose why she was fainting all the time, but he ended up firing her for not being physically fit enough to perform her duties.” She sighs deeply. “But it’s all a bunch of bullshit. Now she just sits at home drinking all the time.”
“That’s fucked up. Is it even legal to fire someone for being sick?” I ask.
Beth rolls her eyes. “Does it even matter? The Brotherhood doesn’t give a shit about what's legal or not. They have the cops in their back pockets and they know it. Auntie Grace couldn't even file a civil suit against him because what lawyer would be dumb enough to go against them? He just showed up one day with a big ass severance package and basically told her to fuck off,” she practically growls.
“Is she okay now though? Was she really sick?”
I feel bad for Beth, I don’t know much about her personal life, but from the small bits I've gathered she lives alone with her aunt and never talks about her parents.
“That's the thing . . . as soon as she stopped working there, she got better. She’s fine now for the most part, but she still refuses to go anywhere near that place. It was right after her best friend died and I think the whole thing fucked
her up a little. She barely even leaves the house.”
The whole situation just rubs me the wrong way. I don’t know what this Black Building is supposed to be, but it sounds extremely shady. I find myself looking at Beth in a new light. At first glance I’d assumed she was just another rich girl, living on some sort of trust fund and lording over the population of Draven with an iron fist.
But maybe I’ve been reading too many books.
I excuse myself from the table, telling the girls I need to hit the bathroom before class starts. I've got a good twenty minutes before I need to be anywhere.
After leaving the busy cafeteria, I find my way to the bathrooms outside of the theatre and immediately go to the sink to put a cool paper towel on my neck. This damn school is stressing me the hell out.
The bathroom door opens, and closes. I hear the click of the lock and turn to see who it is, but before I can make a move I’m being hauled backwards and slammed up against the tile wall. Captain crushes me to the wall with his massive body—his hands are shaking and the seething rage in his eyes makes my breath stutter.
I could break his hold easily. I’ve had years of self-defense lessons back home, but for some reason I want to see where this goes.
‘Maybe that means somethings wrong with me.’
“You didn’t see a goddamn thing, got it?” he growls in my face. His breath smells like cinnamon gum with his lips so close to mine.
“I’m pretty sure I saw something,” I whisper. “I saw a whole lot of something.”
He pulls me forward by my shirt before slamming my shoulder blades back into the wall a little higher now. It hurts, but not bad enough to let him see. I just smile at him, making his golden eyes blaze.
“What is it with you and sniffing around in places you don’t belong? It’s like you're asking for trouble, you realize that right?”
I’ve surmised that it’s not just Carter who knew I was in the woods that night.
