by Josie Max
I chuckled through my tears.
“Mom always said that, too.”
“And our mom said it to us. Because it’s true. I wish I could accompany you to the mayor’s place, but I have to head off to Boise for work.”
For me, at this moment, Boise, Idaho sounded glorious compared to a mansion.
“I’ll, uh . . . miss you.” I whispered with my head down.
“I’ll miss you too, Violet. I bet you’ll make friends right away and have a cute boyfriend by the end of the week.”
“Ugh, it’s not that easy, Aunt Dahlia.” I shook my head.
Adults always believed kids could make friends with a snap of their fingers. It’s like they thought we were all three years old and would play with a potato if it could talk.
She gave my arm a squeeze as she shrugged her bag up on her shoulder. “I know. I’m just, uh . . .. I just love you.”
I frowned. If she loved me, then why was she leaving me?
TWO
Violet
MY HEART BEAT WILDLY in my chest as I stared at the large home outside the car.
The car ride to the mayor’s home was insane to begin with, and now it stopped in front of something that looked like the Queen of England might step out any minute.
The door swung open and the driver, dressed in a black suit, stood there and gazed ahead.
He hadn’t said a word to me the entire time. I wondered if he couldn’t speak. My imagination ran away with me on the car ride, and I wondered if the mayor had permanently removed the vocal cords from all his servants like some evil dictator who demanded silence.
I shook my head. My mom wasn’t perfect, but she had taught me to be strong. To move toward fear with strength and dignity, because if I didn’t, then fear would eat away at me.
“Don’t be a wilting tulip, be a thorny rose.” I sometimes wondered if she told me those things so I would do what she never could—fight back. She let drugs beat her, but I wouldn’t let her death, or this unknown family, get to me.
I pushed my foot onto the pavement and stood tall. Jetting my chin out, I gazed over at the driver.
“You are to meet the Mr. King in the back of the house,” the man said.
I blinked. So his vocal cords were intact.
He waved toward the pathway that led around the house. Flowering plants and bushes edged the large slate tiles of the pathway, and I was sure there would be a bench hidden somewhere along the way. I gazed up as I walked and was surprised at the height of the mayor’s home. It seemed like a two-story home from the front, but I counted four rows of windows on the side.
The house was made of large, beige bricks that appeared rough to the touch. I never realized bricks came in any other color than red. But then again, I grew up in a trailer park where the only bricks were holding up cars without wheels.
There was a large, wooden door attached to a fence and as I reached for the black iron latch, it opened. There, on the other side, stood the driver’s doppelganger, and I gasped and took a step back. “No, we’re not twins; in fact, we’re not even related. I’m Theodore, the butler, Ms. Adler.”
He was a lot more talkative than his non-twin.
“I didn’t mean to stare. I’m sorry if—”
Theodore waved me off. “No apology necessary. We get it all the time. Mr. King is this way. Just follow me.”
I nodded and stepped through the gate. My mouth fell open when I took in the backyard. It wasn’t so much a yard as an acre or more. There were large, rolling gardens that slopped downhill, and a deck and gazebo that seemed as if they were hovering over a small stream.
And directly behind the house was a large pool, sauna, and a second, miniature version of the mayor’s home.
Theodore walked around the pool and waved me to the front door of the smaller home.
“The mayor and his guests are directly inside the pool house.”
I didn’t believe my mouth could fall open any further, but it did. “D-did you say . . . the pool house?”
This was a pool house? It looked like it belonged on a suburban street, not next to a pool.
“Yes.” He opened the white door when I moved closer. “They are all in the living room.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled as I became hypnotized by the opulence.
Not only was the exterior outrageous, but the interior was like something from a high-end décor magazine. Mom used to buy those magazines when she had the extra cash—not because she thought she could fix up our trailer to match those pictures, but to imagine she’d lived like that. It was pure fantasy and here I was, stepping into her dream.
The floors were dark hardwood, and the walls were stark white with frame molding. Everything was bold. Black wooden furniture, deep blue velvet chairs and couches. Gold and white accent pieces. A modern take on the old world.
My fingers slid across the black table by the front door. Not a bit of dust or a nick in that wood. I doubt there was anything second-hand in the place.
A throat cleared and I turned to discover a woman, not much older than me, with bright red staining her thin lips and platinum blond hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her perfectly sculpted brow rose. “Did you get lost?”
“No.”
“Ms. Adler. There’s one thing you should know about Mr. King. He doesn’t tolerate tardiness. It shows a blatant disrespect for others. He understands that you recently lost a relative, so he’ll let this pass . . . just this once.”
A relative? She’s acting like my third cousin twice removed just died, not the woman who raised me.
My jaw tensed as I did my best to bite back the blatant disrespect I wanted to throw her way.
“How do you know I’m Ms. Adler?” I spat out, not at all hiding my irritation.
Despite my obvious anger at the bitch, she clapped back.
Her eyes slid up and down my body with a smirk. “You can’t be serious. I heard you are from South Green Hills. And judging by your clothing, you would fit in perfectly at a South Green Hills barbecue.”
I glanced down at my clothes. My jean shorts were ripped and not in the stylish way—more so in the ‘I bought them two years ago and they were one of the two pairs I owned’. Then I noticed the stain on my T-shirt from the milkshake.
I pursed my lips. “You caught me. I’m Violet Adler. Guess there’s no fooling the fashion police.”
I slid my eyes down her body just as she did me and smirked. I may have bought my clothes at a store with the word ‘outlet’ in the name, but it didn’t mean I lacked taste. She wanted to judge me; well, I was going to judge her right back.
“I’m Ms. Peterson, Mr. King’s private assistant. When he is at his private residence, I keep track of his schedule and who is to see him and who is not.” She took a breath and was obviously incapable of smiling. “Now that we’ve established who we both are, let’s get you where you need to be, which is the conference. The mayor is meeting with journalists in the living room.”
Conference? Is that what rich people called talking?
As she walked down the hall, she said, “We’ve taken care of your clothing. You won’t have to worry about wearing those rags anymore.”
Rags? Ms. Peterson was laying it on thick. Did she think we were in a Dickens novel? What in the fresh hell was wrong with her?
“Thank goodness.” I stopped in the hall and rested my hand against my forehead. “My tatters are so itchy,” I said with a snort.
We stopped in front of two double doors and she turned to me. “Of course, they are. That’s why they’re cheap. Now, Mr. King will do all the talking. Don’t worry, you don’t have to say anything about your horrible time in South Green Hills,” she said the last part with a sneer.
Wow. She really believed the garbage that was coming out of her mouth.
“Right.” I side-eyed her as I turned to the door.
She pulled the doors apart and they slid straight into the wall.
Inside the room, which was about ten time
s bigger than my trailer, was the mayor in a navy blazer and peach-colored button-up shirt standing on the far side by a fireplace. Next to him stood an overly Botoxed and collagen-filled woman with long blond hair. A dozen people with cameras filled half the room.
“And here is the girl of the hour, Ms. Violet Adler,” the mayor said with that bright, white smile I remember from Happy Pond. Even in the light, it was blinding.
Flashes went off and for a moment, I couldn’t see anything. I felt a pair of hands on my arms, pulling me farther into the room.
“Please, ya’ll, give her some space. She’s been through so much,” a woman with a thick, southern accent said as she guided me closer to the fireplace.
I blinked until my sight came back. It was Botox woman. She tried to grin at me, but it appeared painful and looked more like a grimace.
“My wife Kiki and I knew the moment we heard of the horrific events at Happy Pond that we had to embrace this young girl. Take her in and help her heal.” The mayor placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it a little too firmly.
I gazed up at him to find him staring at me, his eyes blank. It was chilling. Sure, he was smiling, but it was like he wasn’t looking at me, but through me.
An icy shiver ran down my spine. No, I wasn’t cold. I was sweating in the overstuffed room. A desperate need to get out and run back to the airport filled me.
I already missed Aunt Dahlia. This was the mayor’s home, and I didn’t know a soul. I had no friends here.
I never thought I would say this, but I missed South Green Hills Trailer Park. Some of my neighbors weren’t good people, but most were nice and worked hard to survive. But even the worst person at the park would never glare at me the way the mayor just did.
I swallowed and tried my best to appear happy to be there. If the mayor wanted me in his home for publicity, then I’d give him what he wanted. Later, I could ask him about a recommendation letter.
Whatever it took, my mom had told me in the past. That’s what I had to do.
I felt a gentler touch on my arm by Kiki. She may look like Barbie with a bad face lift, but I bet she was nice. She must be for taking me in, having never met me and all.
“Oh, dear, you’re shivering. Here, take this.” She reached over and on a hook by the fireplace was a pink blanket.
I wasn’t cold, but I took her offering. The blanket was the softest thing I had ever touched in my life.
“As you can see, Violet needs her rest. My press secretary can answer the rest of your questions. Let this young girl have some peace,” the mayor said to the group.
Some flashes went off as the journalists took pictures of us.
“Mr. Mayor, just one last question, please.” A tall woman leaned forward with her recording device.
“Fine. One more, but then that’s it.”
“Two years ago, your brother and his wife were killed in a plane crash off the coast of Cape Cod, along with your long-time friend Mr. Jack Franklin. Then you took in your brother’s children . . ..”
“Yes. My nephew Knight, and my niece Ava. How is this a question?”
“I’m getting to that. Now you’re taking in a girl you don’t even know. For a man who never had kids, you seem to like to scoop up other’s children.”
Kiki gasped.
“Are you implying that these children are property, to be plucked up when the owners have died?”
The reporter’s eyes widened. She shook her head. “No, t-that’s not what I meant. What I meant to say was—”
“I think you’ve said enough. Please leave. They’re human beings, not things.” The mayor narrowed his eyes at the woman.
She nodded and stepped back. After a few minutes, all the people in the room had left except for the mayor and his wife.
He turned to me with his haunting stare. “Please accept my apology, Violet.”
“It’s fine. I think she just messed up what she meant to say.”
“That’s not an excuse.” His eyes slid down and landed on my chest before quickly rising to meet my gaze once more. “Ms. Ellis hates me. Her questions have always been farcical at best. It’s like she has a vendetta against me. But that’s the price I pay being the mayor.”
“I am meeting Janice at the club for dinner,” Kiki said as she walked to the sliding doors.
“Thank you for the blanket. It’s super soft.”
The moment Kiki turned her sights on me, she sneered. “Is it? Oh, is it super soft? That’s just super,” she said in a mocking, baby tone.
She turned on her white stiletto heels and yelled back as she went down the hall, “This better be worth it, Ichabod. I already have to live with the other brats. I better get a raise for all this . . . uh, mothering.”
I heard the door slam as she left. So much for her being nice.
“I guess we’re alone now.” The mayor stared at my chest and walked toward me.
I backed away until my neck hit the mantel of the fireplace.
“Oh, look . . . there’s nowhere else for you to go.” His lips curled as he placed his hands on either side of my head.
THREE
Violet
I COULDN’T MOVE MY head. My stomach felt like I had recently ingested a boulder. I knew the guy was creepy, but not like that much. My eyes darted around the room. We really were alone. Even if I screamed, would anyone hear?
I was standing in his pool house. He probably paid his servants enough to ignore the screams of a young girl.
“You know, the last guy who tried to do this to me winded up in jail.” I wasn’t about to give up without a fight.
He threw his head back in laughter. “I’m the fucking mayor. No one’s going to arrest me.” He ran his hands through his thick brown hair that grayed at the temples.
The man was handsome with a rugged, square jawline, and that seemed to make all this worse. The mayor had everything—power, money, looks, and I bet he had been coddled because of it.
He looked like one of those men who had never been told no. Until now.
But much to my surprise, Mayor King stepped back and shrugged after his laughter died.
“After what you’ve been through,” his eyes slid to me as if waiting for me to react, but I kept my stance firm, “I suppose I should give you some time. But there is an order of things and in this house—”
I folded my arms. “The pool house?”
His jaw tightened and he firmly took hold of my chin. “Listen here, you brat. I pay for everything in this place. I paid for your schooling, for your clothes, for your life. Don’t think for one minute I won’t take it all back, and you can go find out what happened to that garbage can you called a home.”
My heart sank as his words became clear.
“You mean the trailer?”
His grip loosened. That same cold shiver that I always got when I was in his presence slid down my spine and his finger trailed down my neck. “Oh, not just the trailer, Violet. Think bigger. That’s the difference between you and me.” He smirked before he continued, “Where I’m from, we are always several steps ahead. We don’t just get a job to pay the bills, we buy the whole fucking company. So, when I say what happened to your home, I don’t just mean that terrible trailer . . . I mean the whole park.”
I swallowed and tried to hold back my frown. He wanted to frighten me. I knew enough about men like the mayor—big guys who got their kicks from intimidating others to get what they wanted.
He would not break me that easily.
“You bought the trailer park?”
He considered me for a minute, his tone condescending. “You’re not as dumb as I thought. But it’s not just the park I bought, but the land. And all the surrounding properties.”
Of course, he’d be a shitty landlord. The moment he strolled up to the officer at Happy Pond, I knew he was a dick. It was a feeling then, a sixth sense, but now I had proof.
Living with the mayor was a bad idea. Once Aunt Dahlia found out, she wouldn’t want me
living here, even if it meant losing out on attending Green Hills Academy.
Yeah, I wanted to get a chance at getting into Winter River University next year, but not if it meant living with a psycho for the next few months.
I held my hands up. “Look, I can tell you and your wife don’t want me here. Why don’t I do you both a favor and leave? You can return the clothes and get back the money for the school.”
I tossed the blanket to the floor and tried to step around him. The mayor reached out and wrapped his fingers tightly around my arm. I winced as he shoved me back until my head hit the mantel.
“Once you stepped foot on my property, you became mine. I own you, little girl. And if you want a chance at getting into Winter River University, you’ll live here and do as I say. You’ll go to Green Hills Academy tomorrow and be the demure, thankful bitch I expect you to be.”
My eyes flickered to the doorway. There was a shadow in the hall. A servant maybe? Or perhaps that stuck-up bitch of an assistant I met when I first walked in, Ms. Peterson. Either way, I prayed whoever it was would interrupt.
But the shadow never moved, and I wondered if it wasn’t a person but maybe just a shadow of a statue or a table.
I was on my own. No aunt to help me or Kiki or even the mayor’s nephew who found me at the pond.
“How did you find out I wanted to go to Winter River?” I asked slowly.
His grip never relented as he lifted his head, gazing at himself in the mirror above the mantel. “I had the best conversation with your aunt yesterday. She’s so sweet, not at all like . . . well, never mind. She told me so much about you. I feel like you could be my daughter. Don’t you want to be daddy’s good little girl?”
His hand cupped my cheek as his thumb pressed my bottom lip until my mouth opened.
I slapped his hand away. “It’s not as if I have to go to Winter River. That’s not the only university in the country.”
“You’re right.” He let go of my arm. The mayor turned and walked to the doorway until he glanced back at me. “There’s so many colleges and universities, too many to count really.” He tilted his head as if deep in thought. “I wonder what would happen if I sent a letter to everyone you applied to and told them how I tried to help you, but you gave me nothing but trouble. That you were too much like your mother and I worried you would OD, too.” He paused. “Certainly, universities would have to reconsider the risk, no matter your grades.”
