Rich Riot

by Henry, Max

  “I’ll call the house later, okay?” She sets both hands on my shoulders and lifts an eyebrow. “Don’t let them make you feel small.”

  “Yes, momma,” I tease.

  She chuckles, taking a step back to gather her purse from the foyer table. “Seriously, though. You showing up last night was probably the best thing that could have happened.” Her thumb traces the stitching on the bag. “I don’t know if any of us would have had the guts to stand up to Libby otherwise.”

  “Maybe, but it wasn’t really about Lib, was it?” I point out. “Tuck took everyone there to get Colt to fess up.”

  “Don’t you think that’s weird?” Her brow furrows. “That he goes after your brother like that?”

  I shrug. “Normally, I would have. But I know why he did it.” I give her a half-smile. “By getting Colt to fess up, he forced the Chosen to admit they have no business harassing the Arcadia kids.”

  She leans her hip into the white side table, arms folded with her purse slung over her shoulder. “If Colt knew he started this whole thing between our schools, then why did he carry on the fight alone when you two moved out there?”

  I mirror her position, shoulder to the panelled wall. “Don’t you think the boys would have asked questions if Colt blended into Arcadia without any issue?”

  She tips her head as though to say, “I guess.”

  “Plus, it was kind of Johnson who started the whole thing.”

  “Which one was he again?” She reaches into her purse, pulling out her phone to check the time while she waits on my answer.

  “The guy who pummelled Colt at the party.”

  “Oh.” Greer slips her phone away. “Caleb will be here any minute. I’ll call you this afternoon to finish this convo, but Lacey?”

  “Yeah?” I push off the wall when she hesitates at the front door.

  “Don’t rush. Honestly. Mum doesn’t mind having you over. Live it up a little before you head home to get your arse kicked.”

  “Thanks.” I blow her a kiss, ushering her outside with my other hand. “Go. Have fun.”

  It’s not as though I’m about to tell her that I’m pretty sure her mum doesn’t mind having me here because then she can report back to Alicia. Not when Greer so generously gave me a place to decompress last night.

  “Love you!” She vanishes, off to meet Caleb at the far end of the driveway.

  She told Beau’s brother to meet her as far from the house as possible so that her mother didn’t see the type of vehicle she leaves in. For a girl who wants her independence from the likes of Libby, she has a long way to go before the habits of a lifetime no longer affect her.

  I should know: I still battle mine.

  My bare feet tingle as I walk across the cold entrance tiles. Greer’s mum took breakfast to the patio, and her dad is away for business. As an only child, Greer’s used to the quiet. Me? I hate it. I could help myself to something to eat before I leave, but the longer I stay in this enormous tomb of a house, the more I’ll build the confrontation with Mum into something terrifying.

  I acted out—again. So what? I admit my error, let her yell and get it out of her system, and then I work with whatever I get.

  The basics are cut and dried, so why the hell do my hands still shake fifteen minutes later as I shut the door of the taxi?

  I wait for the driver to leave and then trudge up the driveway of the Mayberry house, already sighing at the mere thought of a replenishing shower. The dawn light casts a warm glow over the roof of the acreage home, but the lack of artificial light from within suggests Mum may still be in bed.

  Which I’m assuming is why Colt waits for me at the front door. Damn it.

  “If you’re quick, you may get away with it,” he whispers as I approach.

  “Are you sure she hasn’t got up for breakfast already?”

  “This early in the morning?” He snorts when I reach him. “Doubt it.”

  “She probably already knows, anyway.” I wince when I catch a good look at the mess Johnson and Richard left him in. “I need a shower.”

  Colt carefully closes the front door after we enter, and then takes two giant steps to catch up. “Lacey. Wait.” His face is a fine mess; a split on his lip still fresh with crusted blood.

  I sigh. “I don’t stand much chance of letting this slide when you look like that, anyway,” I whisper. “What the heck do you think Mum will say when she sees your face?” A pang of guilt snaps to life behind my ribs. “Are you okay?” As much as he makes me mad to the back teeth, I still love my big brother.

  Family isn’t renounced overnight. It’s a slow, gradual process built on the back of countless occasions where you’ve felt let down or unwanted.

  Colt hasn’t done enough to warrant that yet; our unease is still too new.

  “I’m relatively okay,” Colt answers with a shrug. “Richard took out most of his anger on my face. I haven’t decided yet if that’s a good thing or not.”

  “He probably didn’t want anyone to forget in a hurry.”

  Colt’s lips tip a little. “I wouldn’t forget cracked ribs either, sis.”

  “No. But this way everyone in school won’t either when the constant reminder is right there, written all over you.” I wave my fingers at his broken and bruised mug.

  He shakes his head. “I want to say I’m sorry, but I’m not. At least, not entirely.” Colt leans back to check down the hall toward the main suite. Satisfied the coast is clear, he leads me toward my makeshift room with a hand on my lower back. “I regret not letting you know, Lace, but I don’t regret Libby.”

  I swear I’m about to decorate Christian’s carpet with the breakfast I haven’t had. “Please don’t tell me you love her.” He’s not that stupid.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “No. It isn’t.” I settle on the foot of the bed. “Yes or no, Colt. Do you want her exclusively?”

  “Doesn’t mean I love her if I do.” He leans down to examine the camera equipment on Christian’s desk. “What do you suppose he does with this?”

  “I haven’t figured it out,” I say with a sigh. “I’ve been preoccupied with other things.”

  “He must have a YouTube account or something. But for what?”

  I shrug. “I dunno.” He doesn’t get to change the subject that easily. “How do I know you won’t let slip to Mum I was out as well?”

  Colt swings his gaze toward me. “If I wanted her to know, she would already.”

  “There’s no point hiding the truth,” I reason. “She’ll find out anyway when one of her ladies spills the gossip. You realise that, right? I might as well get in first and earn at least half a brownie point for honesty.”

  He shrugs. “Perhaps. But if you go along with it, for now, it’ll buy you some time.”

  “To do what?” I snort. “Stew on the outcome some more?”

  He shakes his head, hands in pockets. “To launch a pre-emptive strike.”

  Legs folded on the bed beneath me, I narrow my gaze on Colt. “I’m listening.”

  COLT

  “I had time to think on the walk home.”

  Lacey’s eyes bug. “You walked?”

  “Hardly going to drive drunk, and I couldn’t hang around after this happened, could I?” I gesture to my face and then tug Christian’s desk chair out to sit on the foremost part of the seat. “Some fresh air seemed like the right thing to do.”

  “You could have rung Greer and let me know.”

  I laugh. “Sis. You might have wanted to pick me up, but I’m sure your friends would have had something to say about it.”

  “They wouldn’t have minded,” she protests.

  “They would have done it for you, not because of you,” I point out. “Big difference. Anyway.” Elbows on my knees, I lean forward and gently rub the sore patch on the side of my head. “I walked. I thought about things, and I failed to find a way to make this better for myself.” She opens her mouth to speak, yet I shush her with a raised hand. “I di
d figure out how to make it better for you, though. At least, I think I did.”

  “I get it,” Lacey snaps. “You want me to stay here and act the good girl for these bastards. Well, guess what,” she challenges, voice rising. “I won’t.”

  “Keep it down,” I warn. “You want Mum up here asking why I’m beaten half to hell, and you’re in yesterday’s clothes?”

  She settles on the bed again.

  “I do want you here, but it was for selfish reasons.” Fuck, I hate having to admit this. Weakness is not something we’re trained to show at Riverbourne. “I wanted you here so I wouldn’t be alone.”

  Her shoulders drop. “Colt.”

  “I hate it, too, sis. But I’m good at this. Manipulation and trickery come naturally to me.”

  “It doesn’t have to,” she offers. “You can change.”

  I smile sadly, avoiding her eye. “That’s the problem. I don’t want to change. I like this. I like the thrill of knowing I can pull it off.”

  Lacey stays mute—as she should. There’s no way to reason away why you love to be the bad guy. Nothing worthwhile, anyway.

  “You need to get Dad involved,” I drop before the conversation gets too deep on the unredeemable: me. “Call him now, before Mum gets to him, and tell him everything.”

  “Because that would work out well,” she snorts with a flick of her golden hair. “Confess to both our parents in one day? I’d rather handle one at a time, thanks.”

  She flops back on the bed, frustrating me with how easily she gives up. “I mean more than last night, sis. Tell him about school, the therapist, all of it.”

  “What difference does it make?” She rolls her head to face me. “He let Mum go ahead with it all. Why would it worry him now?”

  I drag a palm over my face and instantly regret it. Hissing through my teeth, I rise and cross to the mirror to check I haven’t set myself off bleeding again. “He’d care because he doesn’t know.”

  I don’t get anything: no gasp, no words, nothing.

  I turn to find Lacey staring up at the ceiling, her brow furrowed and hands clasped on her stomach. “How do you know that?” she murmurs.

  “I overheard Mum talking to one of her Cashmere Cult last week.” Lacey smirks at the nickname we gave Mum’s coffee group. “She sounded proud of herself for doing all of this without Dad’s influence, as though she was bragging to those other women about how she’s not under the thumb anymore.”

  “Why are you telling me now?”

  “You think you would have cared before?”

  Her lips twist. I’m right—I know it. “What do you think he’ll do?”

  “I don’t know.” That’s the part I couldn’t nail down while my boots gave me blisters. “He might not be able to do anything, other than giving Mum somebody to be accountable to.”

  “So that she’s not too rough on me.”

  “Exactly.”

  Lace rolls to her side, regarding me with her hand propped beneath her head, elbow bent. “And what about you?”

  “What about me?” I fake interest in the mirror again, mindlessly touching the bruises forming on my face.

  “What happens to you if Dad knows the truth?” She hesitates. “You do mean to tell him everything everything, right?”

  “If he knows about the whole Mandy thing, then he’ll understand how wrong the bullying against you is. You can’t get the maximum effect from this without divulging the details, sis.”

  She seems unsure. Such a tiny gesture that tells me so much about the strength of our relationship. Even when all seems lost, there’s still a tie that binds.

  “You’re facing enough,” Lacey whispers. “What, with the charges over Johnson’s truck, and now the hell you’ll receive over Libby.”

  “So what’s one more log on the fire?” I tease.

  Her soft blues lift to find mine. “I can’t do that to you, Colt. No matter how angry I am at you. I can’t.”

  “If you don’t, I will.” I take a step toward her, crouching to level our gazes. “I made my bed, Lacey. You know that. All the hell I’m about to go through? It was of my own making. But what they’re doing to you?” I sigh out my nose. “That wasn’t your fault. You can’t compare what we’re going through when it’s apples and oranges.”

  “I can when you’re my brother.” She reaches out with her free hand and takes one of mine.

  “Let me do this,” I urge. “If I get one thing right in my fucking life, let it be this.”

  A fleeting moment of concern pinches her features. “Why the turnaround?”

  “I told you,” I murmur, pulling away to stand. “I had a lot of time to think.”

  “And if you’re playing me? Where do we go from there, Colt?” She shuffles to a seated position. “I can’t take another blow.”

  “Then I guess you just have to trust that I’m not.”

  TUCK

  “Boy!”

  Swear to God, that name. “Coming, Dad!”

  I snag a clean T-shirt from the pile at the foot of my bed and yank it on while I make my way down the hall.

  “You need help with something?” I thought I was free for the rest of the morning.

  Kurt lifts his gaze from the paper spread on his legs, socked feet kicked up on the timber coffee table. “Your punk friend is here.” He looks pointedly out the picture window to his left.

  “Her name is Maggie,” I state, turning for the door.

  “What’s she doing here?”

  I stall, halfway between the open lounge and the back door off the kitchen. “I invited her.” Last I remember having friends over wasn’t a crime.

  Dad grunts, peering out the window again. “She’s not your usual type. She is this girl you’ve been sneaking off with, right?”

  And yet again, I’m reminded how distant Kurt and I have become. “No. That’s Lacey.”

  “So, Maggie is…” He sets his steely eyes on me.

  “Just a friend.” I fold my arms high on my chest. “I am allowed friends who are girls, right?”

  The stern bastard holds my gaze. “No reason to get smart. This is still my house, and I am still your father.”

  Barely.

  “If Maggie’s going to be a regular here, invite the girl in and introduce her properly.”

  “Fine.” Damn it.

  “Good.”

  The newsprint crinkles as he shakes it out, the spread masking his face once more after he lifts it high. I cut a path across the open-plan kitchen to greet Maggie, or more so, give the girl warning. Kurt’s never taken an interest in which of my friends come and go before. But then again, my friends have been the same since primary school and all boys to boot. A bitter easterly blasts across the yards, racing past the door when I swing it wide.

  “Hey.”

  She rubs her arms, hastening from her car to the cover of the back step. “Fuck me. It’s freezing today.”

  “You don’t say.” I usher her indoors. “Come in and get warm. Don’t worry about taking your shoes off until you’re inside.”

  “You know,” she says with a laugh, focusing on her feet as she knocks her boots off beside the table. “Mum threw a woolly jersey at me, and I mocked her about it. I think she’s smarter than I give her credit for.”

  “Seventeen winters, and you still don’t get it, huh?”

  “It’s spring now. Besides.” She snorts. “You didn’t see the colours she’d knitted into it.” Her gaze lifts to find Kurt seated in the living room.

  “He wants to say hi,” I mutter under my breath.

  Mags shakes her cropped leather jacket off and hangs it on the back of a dining chair, alarm evident in her wide eyes. “Why?”

  “To be polite, I guess.” I shrug.

  She sighs out her nose. “Don’t make me do it alone, though.” Her small hand fists in the back of my shirt, and she steers me toward the living room like a human shield while whispering, “He scares me.”

  “Dad,” I call out as we enter. �
��This is Maggie.” It takes some wrestling, but I get her in front of me.

  “Hi, Mr Brallant.” She lifts one hand in an awkward wave. A complete contrast to the ball-breaker look she has going on with skin-tight black jeans, and a red check shirt.

  Kurt pulls in a deep breath before folding the paper and setting it on his bridged legs. He lifts his gaze to her and hesitates a moment. “Tuck tells me you’re a friend of his.”

  She nods.

  He rolls his lips and leans back into the seat cushions to fold his arms. “But we’ve never met.”

  “Oh. Uh…” Mags waves a hand over her shoulder in my general direction.

  I roll my eyes. “We’ve gone to school together for years, Dad, but we’ve only just become close friends. Okay?”

  He lifts his eyebrows. “Just checking.”

  With his messed up salt-and-pepper hair, two-day beard, and muscular frame, my father can be bloody intimidating if he wants to. One stern word, one aggressive stance, and he’d have Maggie sprinting for the door.

  But to my surprise, he slowly removes his feet from the table and then leans forward in the seat. “Take a load off, Maggie.” Kurt gestures to the armchair beside his. “I was about to put the jug on. Would you like a hot drink?”

  She glances between Dad and me. “Sure?”

  “How do you have it?”

  Mags moves for the empty chair. “Milky Milo if you have some, thanks.” She tentatively sits on the foremost edge, hands between her knees.

  “Having a brew?” Dad narrows his gaze on me as he rises.

  I nod, side-stepping to get out of his way. Maggie gives me a “What the fuck?” stare behind his back, and all I can do is shrug.

  Either he’s setting us up for one of his epic burns, or he honestly does approve of her.

  First time for everything, I suppose.

  “I messaged Colt for an update this morning,” I say as I take the two-seater. “He said their mum hasn’t got out of bed yet so Lacey’s in the clear… for now.”

  “Eish.” Maggie finally relaxes at the sound of the tap in the kitchen. “What do you think her mum will do?”