Living the Dream

by Lyla Payne

  Toby raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything right away. It’s easy enough to read his mind—he’s trying to figure out why I even care, why I agreed to be on the philanthropy committee in the first place. It was my first attempt at changing my image but so far it hasn’t done much other than make people wonder what I’m up to this time. Probably because no one gives a shit about the philanthropy committee. The only reason Toby’s asking is because as chair, it’s even more his problem than mine.

  “We’ll figure it out.” He runs a hand through his spiky brown hair. “It’s late notice, but if we do it over St. Patrick’s Day we could do some kind of pub crawl.”

  “A little distasteful considering people with MS aren’t able to exercise normal muscle function.”

  His cheeks color. “Right. Yeah, of course you’re right. The trick is coming up with something PC that also brings in at least as much money as last year’s beach house rager.”

  “I know. But Quinn’s done hosting those parties, and to be honest, I’m not interested, either.”

  “Because of Audra Stuart?”

  A little voice in the back of my mind tells me to tread lightly. That he’s not my friend, not really. He’s on their side. Kennedy’s. He wants to know what the hell’s going on as badly as they do but there’s one thing Toby doesn’t know. That nobody does.

  There’s something I need from him, too, so at least the appearance of transparency is necessary.

  “We just started seeing each other but she’s not like the other girls I’ve dated.” I look toward Kennedy, trying my best to come up with a genuine smile. “You should know what kind of change the right person can enact on your life.”

  “I suppose.”

  He’s not buying it, a fact that only ups his intelligence in my mind. But my relationship with Audra isn’t my primary sales goal, anyway. “How’s your dad’s campaign shaping up?”

  That earns me back his attention, his moony expression snapping into mild interest. “For reelection next year? It’s going to be a rough race, I think. The whole world’s diversifying, even North Carolina. The day of the middle-aged old-money, white male congressman may be coming to an end.”

  “I don’t think that’s true. He just needs a new strategy.” A way to wow him, to make him think of me as something other than his sleazy but occasionally useful frat brother, brews in my mind, but the steady thunder is interrupted by a bolt of lightning.

  Two, actually, in the form of Audra’s twin brothers, Lawren and Lennox. There’s no obvious way to tell them apart, but by the way their angry eyes and tight jaws lock on me across the yard, there’s no reason to try. They hate me equally. If I’m not careful they’re going to put twin fists in my kidneys.

  “I’m guessing they’ve heard about your new relationship,” Toby mutters, his tone dry as he watches them approach.

  I take a deep breath and catch Audra’s eye, communicating trouble. She spots her brothers and moves quickly to my side, ready to play her part. Put out the flames if possible.

  All the Stuart boys have a reputation for being nice, well-spoken, well-bred guys who are smart, keep their heads down, don’t party excessively but like to have a good time. The girls on campus adore them.

  They also consider sheltering their little sister a full-time job.

  She reaches me at the same moment they do. One of them glares at her while the other steps too close, invading my space. He doesn’t touch me, though, which is good. My patience only extends so far.

  “You Blair?”

  “Sebastian, yes.” I stick out my hand to the one who spoke. “And you are?”

  “I’m not going to shake your hand. I’ve managed to come this far in my life without contracting an STD.”

  “Nox, stop it.” Audra’s voice is small, smaller than anytime she’s addressed me.

  I don’t know whether to be miffed or indignant that she’s more scared of them.

  “Stop what, caring about you? Not gonna happen, sis.”

  “What can I do for you gentlemen?” I step forward slightly so that Audra’s behind me and given the illusion of protection. My blood boils but my face stays calm, my voice even. My lack of emotion unnerves the brothers, as it does most people, and they exchange a glance. Maybe unwilling to take things further when I’m being polite.

  Technically.

  “We wanted to meet you,” the other one says. Lawren. “Because we meet all of Audra’s boyfriends, but for some reason, you’re a secret. Although with your reputation it’s not hard to guess why.”

  I spread my hands. “Not a secret, boys. We’ve just been too busy fucking to come over for a visit.”

  The words are out of my mouth before I can rethink them. Audra’s sharp intake of air finds my ears, but fuck it—she’s not going anywhere. My fingers tighten on hers, squeezing tight enough to remind her of that fact.

  The color drains from Nox’s face and floods Law’s, as though they’re still connected by an umbilical cord. Anticipation unspools in my muscles, turning them into coiled springs ready to release—because one of them is going to take a swing at me.

  It’s the pale one that does it, all of the blood from his brain pooled in his fist, but I’ve been hit enough to have developed decent reflexes to avoid it.

  I twist to the side and duck as his meaty, Scottish fist flies past my cheek with a whistle and a swish of air, narrowly missing Audra. Instead of standing and giving him another shot I take two quick steps forward, then straighten up, brushing nonexistent dust off the crease in my pants.

  Two of the baseball players, probably the ones who live here and have a vested interest in the cops not being called, restrain Lawren. Toby’s standing between Nox and me, talking softly as the taller, beefier Stuart brother nods too fast, his breath coming in angry pants like a bull pawing the ground in front of a red cape.

  Audra presses her pretty rosy lips together until they’re thin and white, disgusting me further. Her skin pales underneath her carmel-colored freckles until her red hair appears to be on fire, but when she turns to her brothers, putting herself between me and them, her voice is steady.

  It makes me proud, just for a moment, to be in this with her. Two people who understand the value of being the calm one in situations like this one. The power it gives us.

  “I’m leaving. Sebastian’s taking me home. You don’t need to worry about me.” She holds up her hands when they start to protest in a single breath. “Fine, worry about me. I’ll check in later and Blair will call you if I’m not snuggled in bed by two.”

  Blair and Kennedy raced over when the proverbial shit started to hit the fan, and Audra exchanges a quick, indecipherable glance with her roommate before putting her arm around my bicep, squeezing hard. “We need to talk.”

  She’s quiet, her hand still pinching my muscle as she steers me through the house and out the front door. I allow her forceful show until we’re free of prying eyes and then yank my arm away and dig my keys out of my pocket. Normally I’d use a car service, but I’m going to sell my Mercedes next week to hoard some much-needed cash and wanted to take it for one last spin.

  “Are you going to continue to drag me around like a little boy? Do you even know where you’re going?”

  “No.” Her lips open long enough to loose the single word and then press together again.

  Inside, I had gauged her controlled reaction as strength, but now I notice the bright sheen of tears in her eyes. I wait for the swell of disgust, because it never fails to accompany the sight of weakness in other people. It’s one of the reasons that women irritate me. They not only have a tendency to cry but they use weakness—or the illusion of it, when it suits them—and expect to be coddled.

  Everyone gets treated the same. Which means if they cry, I walk away. Usually.

  Now, something rips a little bit in my chest at the sight of her unhappiness. She’s not blaming it on me or waiting for sympathy. In fact, the tears are gone now, as fast as they appeared.

/>   I take my cue from her and ignore the whole incident, leading the way down the block to where my black sedan is parked at the curb. She opens her own door and slides into the passenger seat, the click of the seat belt greeting me as I climb behind the wheel. A quick count to ten gives me enough time to assess my faculties. I’m okay to drive.

  Being arrested wouldn’t do, not now, and not when Teddy Rowland held inheritance and a future over my head in high school. Funny how most people discuss my delinquency as though it’s canon but not one single person at this entire school actually knows anything about me.

  Whose fault is that?

  The quiet voice in my head has been around for years, my own personal Jiminy Cricket. It’s always sounded a bit like Quinn—the younger, preteen version that thought having a sibling would be great fun.

  My half brother is the closest thing to a friend I’ve ever had, but lately neither of us bothers pretending it’s more than a convenient alliance, at best. Since he met Emilie our relationship has been even cooler than that, but he’s too nice of a guy to write me all the way off.

  Soft-hearted idiot.

  I turn the wheel toward campus, figuring she’ll want to be rid of me and our unsuccessful public appearance as soon as possible.

  Audra surprises me with a soft hand on my forearm. “Are you hungry?”

  “What?”

  “Hungry. You know, food? I’m dying for a cheeseburger or a chocolate milk shake. Or both.” Her lips are still thin and now she’s worrying at the bottom one with her teeth. The color hasn’t returned to her face. “Like Whataburger?”

  “That place is disgusting. Do you even know what they put in their food?” My stomach clenches at the thought of putting any of it in my mouth. There are some things about growing up rich, at least for the past ten years, that are going to be harder than hell to shake, starting with the fact that I’ve never eaten a taco or anything else handled by pimply teenagers working a drive-through.

  She shrugs, managing to relax the tiniest bit. “I know it’s awful, but might as well take advantage of this metabolism while I’ve got it. Plus there’s nothing like Whataburger where I’m from.”

  “Elgin? Is it like Mars over there?” I’ve been abroad and while it’s true there aren’t quite as many McDonald’s and Starbucks and the options for killing yourself via excess calories are more limited, it’s not impossible.

  “We’re pretty isolated,” she murmurs, her gaze trained out the window.

  There are rumors about the Stuarts—how much money they have, where it came from, whether the boys really wear kilts and crowns at home, that they live in an actual castle—but I squash the desire to ask. This is a business arrangement, nothing more. We shouldn’t even go grab her a burger, but there’s something so fragile about Audra at the moment. It isn’t a good idea to send her home that way, with Blair and her brothers and who knows who else waiting to pump her for the truth.

  “Fine. Whataburger.”

  There are at least four of the greasy fast-food chains within quick driving distance from Whitman. The closest is a popular spot for students to congregate after the bars close—they serve breakfast all day, and the food is cheap, and drunk college kids love nothing more than an extra hour to seal the deal.

  I pilot us to the farthest franchise from campus and we get out of the car, Audra pulling a sweater tighter around her. Before I know what’s happened I’m out of my jacket and draping it around her shoulders, noticing now that a wet chill infects the midnight air. Florida might be preparing for a thunderstorm before dawn.

  “Thanks.” A flicker of something trembles in her gaze—maybe confusion—making me think she’s going to refuse my baffling gift but instead she clutches it even tighter as we step inside the restaurant.

  The woman behind the counter wears a stupid striped orange-and-white shirt and a hat that she might have stolen from a 1950s carnie frying funnel cakes. She asks if she can take our order. Audra requests her bacon cheeseburger and chocolate shake, then turns to me with her eyebrows raised.

  I can’t stop the grimace and shake my head. “Nothing for me, thanks.”

  We stand around in awkward silence for the ten minutes it takes for them to hand over her foul-smelling snack. Fast food, my ass. The booth Audra chooses is made of molded plastic that finds every bone in my lower body, shoving me into the most uncomfortable sitting state known to man.

  She opens a package of ketchup and dips her burger in it one bite at a time, a forlorn, distant expression on her pale face. I may not want to get to know her better, but sitting here not saying anything for the next half hour feels like Chinese water torture.

  Plus, getting to know people is the best way to figure out how to play them.

  “Why do you let them push you around like that? Your brothers.” It takes a moment for her gaze to focus on me, and when it does, I can feel her hostility.

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  I spread my hands in mock surrender, regretting my snapped response at the party. There’s really no need to make this whole relationship harder, not if we want the people in her life to believe us, but I don’t have much practice not stirring the pot. I make a living riding the ripples.

  “Pretend I’m actually a guy you want to date that your brothers don’t approve of—a guy you like,” I persist at the distaste on her face. “Because that’s going to happen one day and you’re going to have to stand up to them. You’re an adult. They’re going to have to respect that eventually.”

  It looks as though she’s going to tell me exactly where I can stick my nose instead of her business, but then her shoulders slump. She takes a giant slurp of chocolate ice cream and sighs, eyeing me. “I know.”

  “You know what?”

  “That they can’t keep treating me like a little kid.” She gives me a small smile. “Crazy me, I was actually thinking this would be sort of fun, you and me. Give me a chance to go against their wishes in a big, showy way and then when I find someone new and awesome they’ll just be glad.”

  The statement insults me but I hide the reaction from her. She’s being honest and I’m not one to discourage such a thing, even at the expense of my own ego. Audra Stuart is not the type of girl I’d date. I’m not the guy for her no matter what kind of thrill she’s getting from ignoring her brothers’ wishes for the first time in her life.

  I don’t know why I feel the need to remind myself of those facts.

  “But?”

  She swallows one last bite of cheeseburger, polishing off the whole oversized thing, and wipes grease and ketchup from her lips. “Do you think you could make this whole thing a little easier on both of us?”

  The shift in subject, in tone, straightens my spine. She’d lulled me with her silence and her almost-tears and weak requests for sustenance, but this girl? Needs to be watched.

  “Easy really isn’t my specialty, peach.”

  “Ugh, that is so creepy. Worse than Red. Keep trying.” That smile again, but more tired this time. “Look, I’m not saying you need to act like you had a lobotomy over Christmas break. But it’s going to be less problematic for me to convince my family and friends that you’re not so bad if you’re not disrespecting me to their faces. That’s all.”

  Exhaustion etches lines on her forehead and around her eyes, giving me a sneak preview of Audra thirty years from now. Just as lovely, but with more wisdom to drag along for the ride. Her naïveté both draws me toward her and churns hatred for her.

  But she has a point. We made a deal and yes, she has plenty of reason to see it through since she knows I can ruin her reputation and make things hard for her family with a click of my finger, but that doesn’t mean having unrealistic expectations is going to work.

  I mean, I can’t expect her to endure disbelief and one intervention after another for the next four months without breaking. Not when this is ultimately about changing my image, not hers. So I close my eyes, count to five, and open them ag
ain. Tears return, give her emerald gaze a sheen, but they’re still stubbornly held at bay.

  Another chunk of something rattles loose inside me. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. They’re as fiery as her hair and lead to inappropriate thoughts about how everything on her body matches.

  “I’m conceding that you have a point. This is your end of the bargain but we’re going to have to work together to make it viable.”

  She squints at me. “Are you sure you don’t want to let me in on the reason for this whole ruse? Might make it easier for me to help.”

  “Let’s just go with the goal of your brothers not kicking my ass before May, yeah?”

  That makes her laugh, but the sound is as tired as the rest of her. She pushes her milk shake across the table. “Have a drink, Sebastian. Consider it a peace offering, and also your first lesson in how to be more likable.”

  “Oh, enlighten me.”

  “It’s pretty basic—relax. It’s chocolate and milk and ice cream, not ebola. Have a drink.”

  There are about a million expressions that all basically boil down to one: no pain, no gain. There’s no way to be able to work the connections that run rampant through Whitman’s networks without presenting a different face to the world. Right now, that means playing the kind of boyfriend Audra Stuart would want around.

  But what it also means—what scares the shit out of me—is letting people see behind the mask.

  I wrap my fingers around the freezing cold paper cup, put my lips on the same straw that was in someone else’s mouth less than five minutes ago, and take a drink.

  It is, surprisingly, delicious.

  Chapter Six

  Sebastian

  Logan Walters blows up my phone for the tenth time since he apparently realized his marginally legal website has mysteriously disappeared. The messages are all the same—asking me what the hell happened, how long before we can get it fixed and start making money again, would I please fucking call him back right fucking now. I actually despise the guy; I helped him because that’s what I do. Did. And there wasn’t a reason to say no.