Scorn of Secrets

by B Truly

  “This is it, ladies. Welcome to your new home,” Regan announces.

  “Your pad is nice!” Tanya clasps her hands together. Regan’s lips curl upward. He must understand the slang. “Can’t wait to see where I’ll be sleeping.”

  Regan’s grin widens. “I’m glad you approve. Hopefully, you’ll be satisfied with your bedrooms.”

  “How many are there?” Tanya wonders.

  “Six. The master suite is downstairs and five are up—along with four and a half baths. You girls have a hall bathroom to share,” Regan replies.

  “Sounds perfect.” Tanya bounces on her heels.

  I concentrate on not rolling my eyes. My lids are itching to reach the sky. Seems like Tanya is getting over being upset about moving fast. She’s gone from pissy since finding out two weeks ago, to psyched once we entered the gated community of Royal Oaks. It looks as if I’m the only one still grumpy about coming to Texas.

  “I’d like to see the rest of the house. Can I look around?” My sister’s a ball of energy.

  “Of course,” Regan says. “Let me introduce my sons first.” He yells upstairs, “Boys, get down here!”

  A tall boy dressed in a black tee and jeans jogs downstairs. He has the same caramel-brown skin tone as Regan, standing slightly taller, at least six two. Very tall for sixteen. I have to stretch my neck for miles to see his face. His features are strikingly handsome. He has his father’s complexion and physique, but the similarities stop there. He must resemble his mother with his more-rounded nose, high cheek bones, and long eyelashes. His eyes are a lovely shade of hazel. His son glances over at us curiously.

  “Where’s your brother?” Regan wonders.

  “He stepped out to the store. Said he wouldn’t be long.”

  Regan nods, and then makes introductions. “Jackson, you remember my lovely lady, Charlotte Guillory.”

  Jackson extends his hand. He doesn’t seem bitter about us moving in, either. “Hello again, Ms. Guillory.”

  I want to scream, it’s Mrs. but decide to keep my lips sealed.

  “You can call me Ms. Charlotte.”

  Regan clears his throat. “These are Charlotte’s daughters, Tanya Thibodeaux and Madison Guillory.”

  “What’s up, Tanya,” Jackson acknowledges her first.

  As Tanya’s eyes roam over Jackson, a spark ignites in her honey-colored irises. I want to gag.

  “Hey, Jackson. Or should I call you brother,” Tanya teases.

  Jackson chuckles. “Definitely not. Call me Jay, most everyone does.”

  He winks and Tanya’s cheeks flush. His mannerisms are the epitome of cocky. I’m willing to bet Jackson knows just how attractive he is.

  Jackson pivots to me. “You must be the baby sis, sweet-cheeks.”

  Is he deaf? Regan just told him my name. “I go by Madison.”

  His face dances with mischief. “Gotcha. What’s up with having different last names, sweet-cheeks?” I glance over my shoulder. “Yeah, I’m still talking to you.”

  Jackson’s grinning from ear-to-ear. Shrugging, I make a mental note—he’s the butt-hole brother. My sister has my mother’s maiden name. We had the same father, but Tanya was born two years before they were married, and they never changed her last name. That’s not my place to explain. “You’ll have to ask her.” I tilt my head toward my mom.

  Jackson bursts out laughing. “I like her, Dad.”

  Tanya scrunches her nose—Mama gives me a piercing stare. A “you better not start” kinda look. My shoulders slouch. I hate to be bitter or have an attitude. Everything just happened so fast. My father only died four months ago. Mama already has a boyfriend that she’s moved us in with—to another state to top it off—and now I have brothers to deal with. All of this makes my temples pound.

  “Well, there will be plenty of time for everyone to get acquainted,” Regan lightens the mood. “Tonight, I want to treat you ladies to dinner.”

  “That will be nice.” Tanya is all smiles.

  She’s supposed to be on my side. We rarely get along. For once, we were on common ground. Now it seems the tables have turned and I’m alone in my gloom.

  “I’ll show them their bedrooms,” Jackson offers. He extends his elbow out to Tanya. She happily accepts, looping her arm through his. “We’ve got the best crib on this block. Can’t you tell?” With his free hand, Jackson swivels his palm in a half-circle, displaying the house in front of him. Tanya giggles. “This babe comes equipped with all the good stuff. Wait until you see our theater room. It’s decked out with plush leather recliners, a popcorn machine, and the best sound system.”

  Tanya’s face lights up. “Lead the way.”

  Jackson glances back at me. “Coming, sweet-cheeks?”

  My sister is definitely on board—already won over by the luxurious pad. I tag along like a puppy with a tail between my legs.

  * * *

  My stomach grumbles as I make my way to their enormous kitchen. Maybe I should’ve swallowed my pride and gone out to eat with them. I wouldn’t be starving if I had. Regan wanting to welcome us by taking us to dinner is a thoughtful gesture. I knew my heart wouldn’t be into it, so I faked a headache.

  Bet I wasn’t fooling anyone.

  I’ve yet to see the other son. I haven’t left my bedroom. I assume the sons went to dinner, also. Crossing my fingers, I open the refrigerator. Bingo! The fridge is stocked with goodies. A cheese cracker tray and a plate with tuna croissants sits next to it. My mouth waters. I grab both. I pile a plate high with two mini sandwiches, loads of cheese, crackers, and pepperoni slices. I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I plop down on a lavish, crimson-colored, leather bar stool. The gray and maroon granite bar glistens. My eyes close in delight as I inhale the first sandwich.

  My mind begins to wander in the quietness. A new home, city, and school—no friends. Deep in thought, my head snaps to attention when I hear a baritone voice coming into the kitchen. He’s singing, “That’s what I like” by Bruno Mars. My eyes bulge, swearing that he sounds better than Bruno himself.

  When he catches sight of me, his tune cuts off abruptly, and his hazel eyes widen. It’s Jackson. He’s dressed more casually in warmup pants and a T-shirt. He must have skipped dinner, too. I swallow hard, assuming he’s going to call me sweet-cheeks again.

  “Hi,” he finally says.

  “Hey, Jackson.” Maybe if I play nice, he won’t tease me.

  His warm hazel eyes twinkle. “I’m not Jackson. I am his brother.”

  “Oh,” is all I can muster. This boy is just as tall. He has the same handsome face, lean figure, and muscular arms as Jackson. They’re identical! My mother failed to mention Regan had twin sons. We stare at each other. As I’m studying him, he appears to be researching me. I can’t get a read on his expression. Friendly, although I seem to have startled him. My body is surging with an electric warmth as we stare. I look away, refusing to admit I was ogling him. I shouldn’t feel too foolish. His gaze wasn’t brotherly, either.

  Glancing at him quickly, I spy him still staring. “What?” It’s a rude comment—the word just spills out of my mouth. My impoliteness doesn’t seem to faze him. His lips curve upward. A dimple! A deep one forms in his left cheek. Well, that is one way to tell them apart.

  He clears his throat, breaking eye contact. “Um … nothing. Sorry, I’m not used to a girl being in our house.”

  “Hate to break it to you, but I’m being forced to live here now.” He chuckles. The sound of his laugh makes my stomach flutter. I don’t like it one bit.

  “It’s not bad living here. Big house, great amenities—give it a chance.”

  “The house is gigantic.” I shrug. “But Baton Rouge will always be home to me. It’s where I was born and have lived all my life.”

  He nods in understanding. “Fair enough. I’m Justin, by the way.”

  “Yeah, I met your obnoxious twin.”

  He laughs again. “That would be my older brother, by only five minutes.”

&
nbsp; Explaining my ogling, I say, “My mom forgot to tell us you and Jackson are twins.”

  “Ah, that would account for the look on your face.”

  I smirk at him, trying to hold in my smile.

  “You must be Madison.”

  “Lucky guess?”

  “No, I haven’t met your sister yet. Your curls gave it away.”

  My curls? “I don’t get your drift.” Justin opens the fridge, pulling out both trays. He stuffs more on his plate than I had.

  “My dad told us the younger one, Madison, has a head full of curls.”

  I remember the first time Tanya and I met Regan when he came to Baton Rouge. Self-consciously, I tug on a curl, yanking it straight. Once I release the piece, it springs right back into a spiral. My hair falls to my shoulders. I never do much to it because my curls are hard to tame.

  A light sparkles in Justin’s hazel eyes. “Your hair is pretty.”

  His admission surprises me. My stomach turns a cartwheel. Ugh! My manners intercept my irritation. Just because Justin’s making me uneasy doesn’t mean I shouldn’t thank him for complimenting me. “Thanks.”

  “Do you dye it?”

  I get asked this question often. It’s dominantly dark brown with natural highlights. “Um, no. Just born with two-toned colored hair.”

  “The blondish highlights are quite unique.”

  Okay, time to leave. Justin is charming and sings like an angel. I like the fact he’s making small talk—it lightens the mood. The problem is I shouldn’t be attracted to a boy who could possibly become my future stepbrother. “I’m gonna head upstairs.”

  His forehead wrinkles. “Nice meeting you.”

  After I clean my plate, I smile—or attempt to. I hurry away, because my cheeks are growing redder by the minute. I wish my complexion wasn’t such a light shade of brown. Even a blind person could see my blush.

  I worry about my first impression on him. I’m sure I seemed ill-mannered. But in the short span of time talking to Justin, my palms became clammy and my body tingly. Two totally different reactions with the Jenkins’ twins. Jackson sorta got under my skin—Justin set me ablaze. This is just day one in Houston, Texas.

  What else will this city bring?

  8

  The Jenkins

  This house must be bigger than Buckingham palace. A house isn’t the right name. It’s a mansion. There are too many rooms to count. I still haven’t figured out what some of them are used for. The home has a feminine touch. The twin’s mom has to be responsible. The decor looks straight out of a magazine from the plush sofas to the mahogany wood. The wood type is a guess. Whatever kind it is, it’s good quality.

  Rubbing my hand on a pillow—the fabric feels lovely. I wonder if the material is silk or satin. The main colors of the home are light gray and beige. A couple of rooms, like the media, have darker tones—rich browns and maroons.

  There are family photos in the hall before the dining room and upstairs. The twins look like their mother from their almond-shaped, hazel eyes to their high cheek bones, rounded noses, and full lips. Their father stepped in, giving them their caramel-brown complexion, height, and physique. The rest is all mom.

  Maybe if I understood why Mama moved so fast to erase the life we had—this palace could be a warm home. Although, if I’m honest, my family was destroyed the day my dad was killed, getting involved with the wrong people.

  * * *

  The furniture Tanya and I chose online was delivered here and waiting for us. I chose a gray, upholstered platform-style bed. The set came with a mirrored dresser and two nightstands. The queen mattress is an upgrade from my former full size. It’s a gorgeous bedroom set—compliments of Mama’s Rico Suave. Mama took us to Bed Bath and Beyond to get the bedding, curtains, and most of the décor. All of it cost an arm and four legs. I’m almost certain the gold credit card she whipped out to pay didn’t have her name on it.

  Over the last week staying here, I’ve gotten my room mostly in order. I only have a couple more boxes to unpack. I liked my old bedroom simply fine, but I’d be lying if I tried to deny loving this one.

  A knock on the door startles me. In the threshold stands one of the Jenkins brothers. He towers over me, almost a foot taller and full of alluring swagger. I can’t tell which twin he is—they’re identical. He’s sporting all black—T-shirt, jeans, and some impressive Timberland-style boots.

  “You’re....” I shake my finger, not sure. The twin smiles and he doesn’t have a left cheek dimple. “Jackson, right?”

  “You can call me Jay.”

  He lets himself into my room. “Sure, you can come in.” He bursts out laughing. I fight to hide my smile.

  “You’re a lot feistier than you look.”

  I smirk at him, crossing my arms. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

  “It was.” Reaching out, Jackson pulls on one of my curls. “These make you look so young and innocent.”

  I shift my weight, unsure of what to say.

  “I meant no offense. Your curls are cute.”

  Where Justin makes me flush—for some reason, this twin intimidates me. “What’s up, Jackson?”

  He twirls in a circle. “Nice room. I came to see what you’ve done with the place.”

  I shake my head at his humor. Jackson walks around inspecting my room. The accents are purple and silver. The curtains and comforter are those colors combined. The fluffy rug is an orchid color. The decorative pillows are different purples and grays in a variety of materials.

  Jackson scratches his chin. “Purple must be your favorite color.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Nah, not really.”

  I scrunch my nose in confusion. Jackson’s hazel eyes dance, then I realize his comment was meant to be sarcastic. He checks out the decor on the tall, slate-gray wall unit that I’m also using as a bookshelf.

  “Books must be your thing.”

  “Yeah, I know books aren’t exciting to most people.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the nerdy type.” I sigh—Jackson grins wider. “You’re the laid-back sister. Tanya’s room is way more glamorous. I think her chandelier may actually have real diamonds on it.”

  “I can’t decide if you really like my room or not.”

  “I’m digging it. The color scheme you’ve chosen does go well with the light gray walls. Besides, diamonds aren’t my best friend. I prefer pretty things over fancy ones.” Jackson winks at me.

  Is there a hidden meaning behind his remark? I can’t figure him out. “Okay, Mr. Riddles. Unless you’re going to help me finish unpacking, I’m sending you on your way.” I push him toward the door.

  “Maybe you aren’t a sweet-cheeks after all.” He shrugs. “Oh, well. The nickname kinda suits you.”

  “If you think my sweet side is bad, wait until you see my other side. I’m about to introduce you to my she-devil if you keep up with the jabs.”

  Jackson laughs all the way out the door.

  * * *

  Mama gets us registered for Taylor High the following week. The school campus is enormous. Two of my old high schools could fit inside of Taylor. It takes all morning, which makes Mama grouchy. At least we are in the system and ready to go. They have even given us our schedules.

  On the ride back to Royal Oaks, Mama says, “Thank goodness that’s over. Houston is too demanding. I don’t understand why they needed so much information to get you registered for school. You’d swear the two of you were applying for visas.” She lowers her visor, glancing at herself in the mirror at the red light. “When I pull up, you guys get out of the car. I’m treating myself to the salon after that headache.”

  I shake my head in the back seat.

  “Well, I want to go, too,” Tanya tells her.

  “Do you have money to pay for it?”

  “I’m still upset about you making us move here for my last year of high school.” Tanya attempts to bait her.

  I have two years left, so I shoul
dn’t complain. Tanya has it worse, attending Winsten for three years, then having to finish her senior year at another school.

  “We’ve been over this. With the debt your father put us in, I couldn’t afford the mortgage. Luckily, this car is paid off or the bank would have taken it, also.” Mama sighs. “Regan has been a true blessing.”

  “I get it,” Tanya replies. “I’m just saying it’s not fair, is all.”

  “How about I treat you to the spa. It won’t make up for what your father did, but it’s a nice reward for you being so understanding.”

  Tanya perks up, gifting Mama with a huge smile. She pulls into the driveway. She doesn’t offer to treat me to the spa, and I don’t want to ask and seem ungrateful. Neither of them says bye when I get out the car. It’s nothing I’m not accustomed to. My parents had favorites. I was Dad’s and Tanya is our mom’s. I shrug, trying to pretend it doesn’t bother me. I promise myself that when I have kids, I won’t play favorites.

  * * *

  For most of the week I hide in my new bedroom. Dari and I talking through the week is the only thing that cheers me up.

  I overhear Tanya on her cell, gloating about her new, extravagant bedroom. She gushes about the house and how well-off Mama’s boyfriend is. Tanya goes on to say that she’ll have no problem climbing the social ladder at Taylor High.

  Back at Winsten, my sister was very popular—from being part of the dance team to going out with the most popular boys. Tanya is a social butterfly with tons of friends. She’s outgoing and boisterous—the total opposite of me. Sometimes I wish I could be more like her. My idea of fun is reading, watching TV, or surfing on Goodreads.

  Does that make me a nerd?

  Tanya thinks so. Normally, I wouldn’t care what others thought of me. Having to attend a new school where I don’t know anyone makes me leery of my mantra, though. In less than two weeks, Tanya is fitting right in, and I’d like to follow in her footsteps.

  * * *

  A marvelous aroma simmers upstairs to my bedroom. It smells so good—I have to follow the scent down to the kitchen. My stomach has been balled in knots all day, worried about how my first day at Taylor High will go tomorrow.