Diamonds in the Rough

by Michelle Madow

  “No, I shouldn’t have.” She pushed her chin up higher, not breaking eye contact. “Although it sounds like everyone would have preferred that I’d never found out at all.”

  “It’s more complicated than that,” he said. “After everything happened, your mother and I were a wreck. She blamed me, and I blamed myself. I still blame myself. You see, we got too comfortable in our gated community. The entrances were guarded at all times, and we felt as though when we were behind those gates, we could live like any other family. I should have known better, but it made your mom happy, and I wanted her to be happy. So I lowered our security while we were in the neighborhood. The park your nanny took you to that day was inside the community. But the gates didn’t stop the kidnappers.”

  “I understand what happened.” Courtney dug her fingernails into her palms. She’d cried so much in the past two days that no tears were left. “But I don’t understand how you and Mom thought it was okay to keep this from me, Peyton and Savannah. Britney was our sister. She was my twin! And you just…didn’t think I should know she existed?”

  “Not discussing Britney was your mom’s way of handling her grief,” Adrian said. “As was moving away from me, and keeping the three of you out of my life.”

  “Come on.” Peyton rolled her eyes. “We know how much power and influence you have. You could have been in our lives if you’d wanted to.”

  “You don’t understand.” Adrian slammed his hand down on the couch, and Courtney jumped back. “Because of me, one of my daughters was murdered. I felt like I’d killed her myself, seeing how negligent I was with our personal security. The three of you being around me would have put you in danger, and at the time, I couldn’t deal with that.”

  Everyone was silent, as though waiting to see who would be first to crack.

  “You do know where we lived with Mom, right?” Savannah asked quietly. “How dangerous the neighborhood was?”

  “Of course I do.” Adrian looked at Savannah, and his eyes softened. “Which was why you were guarded at all times. Your top-of-the-line trained guards could protect you against petty street thieves. But what made you safe was your anonymity. If no one knew you were my daughters, you wouldn’t be at risk for a repeat of what had happened. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make, but I was clouded with grief and guilt. And your mom and grandma had no problem going along with it.”

  “So you stepped out of our lives forever.” Peyton’s voice was eerily calm.

  “Not forever,” he said. “You’re here now. And now you know the truth—you know just how dangerous your connection with my world can be.”

  “You told us most of this when we got here, minus the part about Britney,” Courtney said. “But I knew something was off. You got me back safe, so I didn’t get why you felt so guilty that you cut yourself out of our lives. It makes more sense now that I know the truth. I don’t think it was right, but I understand a little bit better. But I will never understand how you and Mom kept Britney’s memory from me—from us—and thought for one second that it was okay.”

  “I know.” Adrian took a deep, pained breath, and placed his hands on his thighs. “I thought your mom would tell you once you were old enough, but she never did. Of course, I expected her to make up a story about why Britney was no longer with us, but I thought you’d have at least known she’d existed. Then when you came here, your grandmother told me the three of you knew nothing about her. And there were so many changes going on in your lives that I couldn’t throw one more thing at you. Rebecca wanted me to tell you everything—she said it was what I had to do to earn your trust—but I didn’t, and it was a mistake.”

  Courtney couldn’t believe it. Was Adrian admitting he was wrong?

  “So you would have told us eventually?”

  “I like to think so,” he said. “But now I know why Rebecca wanted me to tell you everything from the start. When you’re keeping a secret, it gets harder to come clean every day, until you wonder if it’s better to bury the truth completely. But it wasn’t better. It only made it worse.”

  Learning about Britney’s death left a hole in Courtney’s heart that she’d never known existed until two days ago. Before, she’d been generally happy. She loved Peyton and Savannah, and having such wonderful sisters had always been more than enough for her. Was she betraying Britney’s memory by having felt that way? Should she have felt something missing in her life—should she have known she was supposed to have had a twin?

  But she’d always known something was off. Her baby book had been sparse compared to Peyton’s and Savannah’s, and she’d never lived up to her mom’s expectations no matter how hard she’d tried.

  “Despite how much it hurts, I would rather have known the truth,” she said.

  “I know.” Adrian cracked his knuckles. “I’m sorry. If I could go back to the day the three of you got here, I would tell you everything from the start. But that’s not possible.”

  “No, it’s not.” Courtney shook her head, unsure where they could go from here.

  “I don’t expect you to forgive me immediately,” he said. “But I want a second chance. Since you moved here, I haven’t been accessible, and I plan on changing that. I was hoping that from now on, every Sunday afternoon could be official father/daughters time. The four of us spending time together so we can get to know each other. Does that sound like something you would want to do, too?”

  Courtney bit her lip, unsure what to say. If she said yes, it might come across as her forgiving him, and she wasn’t there yet. But he’d apologized, and he was trying, so that had to count for something.

  She looked at her sisters for a hint of what they wanted. Savannah’s eyes were huge, as if she wanted to say yes. Peyton studied the chipped black polish on her nails, as if she didn’t care either way. Which was surprising—she expected Peyton to have a sarcastic retort.

  “That’s a nice idea,” Courtney finally said. “We could try it and see how it goes.”

  “Yes.” Savannah bounced her knees, looking like she was about to pop right off the couch. “I would definitely like to do that.”

  “And does it sound good to you, Peyton?” Adrian asked.

  “Sure.” Peyton shrugged. “I guess that sounds fine.”

  “It’s settled, then.” He smiled for the first time since seeing them this morning. “Tomorrow will be our first father/daughters day. Is there anything particular you’d like to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Courtney hadn’t had any time to think about it. “What were you thinking?”

  His eyes glinted. “Have you ever been to the Grand Canyon?”

  “Considering that before moving here, we’d never left California, what do you think?” Peyton asked.

  “It’s one of the seven natural wonders of the world, and it’s nearby, so it’s something you should see,” he said, ignoring Peyton’s snark. “We can take the helicopter to the canyon, fly over it so you can see it from above, touch down at the bottom for a picnic lunch, take a boat ride down the Colorado River and be back to Vegas in time for dinner.”

  “It’ll be just the four of us?” Courtney asked.

  “Along with our pilot and a bodyguard,” Adrian said. “But besides them, yes. It will only be the four of us.”

  “All right,” Courtney said. “That sounds like a great idea.”

  “Glad you approve,” he said. “I’ll meet you here tomorrow at nine?”

  “A.m.?” Peyton’s eyebrows shot up in horror.

  “Yes.” Adrian chuckled. “I think you’ll survive. You might even have fun.”

  “Thank you for doing all of this,” Courtney said. “All Mom did was defend what she’d done and try to make it seem like she wasn’t in the wrong. But that made it worse. So even though there’s no way to make this all better, and I hate how everyone lied to us for s
o long, I do appreciate your apology.”

  “I’m happy to hear it,” Adrian said. “And I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”

  “Me, too,” Courtney said, surprised by how much she meant it. “But I was planning on spending tomorrow studying for the SATs, so I better get started now instead.”

  Despite her world being turned upside down by learning about Britney, she couldn’t ignore her schoolwork, especially since her PSAT score hadn’t been what she’d wanted. She was only in the ninety-fifth percentile, which wasn’t high enough to qualify for the National Merit Scholarship. It was frustrating to find out, but if she studied hard enough for her SAT and boosted her score, there would be other scholarship possibilities.

  She should also talk to Brett at some point, but she wasn’t ready yet. She felt more vulnerable than ever, and she was terrified of what would happen if she were around him. She wouldn’t have the strength to fight her feelings. What if she did something that she ended up regretting?

  It was too much stress on top of everything else that had happened in the past two days.

  “And I need to practice some songs to figure out which one to record next,” Savannah said. “My fans have been asking for a new video all week. I still can’t believe I have fans. How cool is that?”

  “Very cool.” Courtney smiled, happy to see Savannah’s dream coming true.

  “I’m glad the two of you have things to do, because I need to have a conversation with Peyton,” Adrian said.

  “Why?” Peyton laughed. “Am I in trouble?”

  Adrian’s expression revealed nothing. “We’ll discuss it in private.”

  Peyton’s smile disappeared, and she picked at her black nail polish.

  “I’m going to my room now to study,” Courtney said, giving Peyton a look that meant You better tell me what this is about later. Then she remembered they hadn’t cleaned up from breakfast. “But first, Savannah and I will clean up the kitchen.” Cleanup was normally Peyton’s job, but since Peyton would be busy, Courtney would take one for the team. She didn’t want the dirty dishes sitting around for too long. Yuck.

  “Do you want to talk in your room, or in my condo?” Adrian asked Peyton.

  “My room, I guess.” She fidgeted and looked at the floor. Either she had no idea why Adrian wanted to talk to her, or she suspected he’d found out about something he shouldn’t have. She looked at Courtney for help, but all Courtney could do was shrug and send her good luck vibes.

  Peyton followed Adrian to her room, the door shutting behind them.

  “I wonder what that’s about,” Savannah said.

  “I have no idea.” Courtney stacked the dirty dishes and brought them to the sink. “But I can’t wait to find out.”

  Chapter 27: Peyton

  Why did Adrian need to talk to her alone? Did he know she’d kissed Hunter? Was he upset about her decision not to apply to college? Peyton’s stomach felt hollow, like it had that one time last year when a friend in Fairfield had dared her to swipe nail polish from a store and she’d been caught and forced to give it back. She wrapped her arms around herself and waited for Adrian to start the conversation.

  “Do you mind if I sit?” He motioned to the swivel chair at her desk.

  “Sure.” She sat on the edge of her bed and crossed her legs, trying not to pick her nails or do anything that might give away guilt for whatever he thought she’d done. “So, what’s up? I’m not in trouble, am I?”

  “There are a few things I want to talk with you about,” he said.

  “Great, I am ‘in trouble,’” she said, sitting straighter when he didn’t deny it. “You’re fucking kidding me. I don’t even know what I did.”

  “No, I’m not ‘kidding you,’” he said. “And I would like for you to stop using language like that. It’s not classy, and it makes you sound much less intelligent than you are.”

  “Yeah, right.” Peyton rolled her eyes. “I get pretty much all Cs. And I’m not even in AP classes. I’m not putting myself down—I know I have a lot going for me—but book smarts isn’t one of them. So I hope this isn’t about my grades.”

  “Your grades are definitely a concern.” Adrian leaned back in the chair. “Along with how you are putting yourself down right now. You don’t realize your potential.”

  Peyton clenched her fists. Could he have sounded any cornier? “If you’re going to try to force me to fill out college applications, forget it,” she said. “Sitting in class all day is my own personal hell. There’s no need to put myself through it for four years more than necessary.”

  “This isn’t about college applications,” he said. “Your astronomy teacher called over break to discuss you.”

  “Why?” Peyton asked. Ms. Mandina weirdly seemed to like her, and Peyton didn’t think she was failing her class.

  “She told me you’ve been getting Cs on your tests, and she thought you could do better,” he said. “Then she told me that she cornered you after class and forced you to sit down with her during a few lunches for individual tutoring sessions, and how quickly you picked up on concepts in a one-on-one scenario. She finished grading the test you took before Thanksgiving break. You got an A.”

  “No way.” Peyton shook her head. She hadn’t gotten an A on anything since elementary school. “I didn’t even study.”

  “Apparently the tutoring sessions were enough,” Adrian said. “I put in a call to the school, and found out that you have Bs in history and English, too, which isn’t great, but it’s better than the Cs you barely had in the same subjects at Fairfield High. So, tell me why you chose to stay at Goodman, instead of switching to public school after two months.”

  He had noticed how she’d dropped the public school thing.

  She supposed there was nothing she could do but tell the truth. “Because school sucks no matter what, but the small class sizes at Goodman aren’t quite as torturous as the huge, boring classes in public school.”

  “Right.” He nodded. “And tests at Goodman aren’t timed, right? If it’s not completed by the end of the class period you have to come back during lunch or after school to finish?”

  “Yep.” Peyton’s cheeks heated. She’d had to do that more times this semester than she cared to admit. At Fairfield High, tests were turned in at the bell—finished or not—and not finishing her tests on time was part of the reason behind her bad grades.

  “I have a feeling you’re not going to like what I’m going to say next,” Adrian said. “But before getting upset, please hear me out and take what I’m saying into consideration.”

  “Okay…” She bounced her legs. That was never a good way to start a discussion.

  “Ms. Mandina has a brother with Attention Deficit Disorder—ADHD—so she knows a lot about it. She thinks you show signs of having it, too.”

  “No way,” Peyton interrupted. “I don’t have a disorder. I’m not the best in school, but that doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me.”

  “No one’s saying there’s anything wrong with you,” Adrian said. “A better way to think of it is as a learning difference. Some of the best, most creative thinkers in the world—like Albert Einstein and Walt Disney—are thought to have had ADHD. It isn’t a ‘disorder’ as much as a unique way of thinking that doesn’t conform with the traditional school system.”

  “Now you’re an expert, too?”

  “I researched it on the plane home from Macau. Having to sit still in a large class while listening to a lecture is a hard way for a student with ADHD to learn. That could be why in the smaller classes at Goodman, where class is discussion- instead of lecture-based, and with individual attention from your teachers, your grades are improving from what they were at Fairfield High. It also explains why you’re not as bored in class.”

  “I’m not convinced, but even if I do have A
DHD, then what?” Peyton asked. “It sounds like school still wouldn’t be a good place for me, especially since in college the classes are bigger than they are in high school.”

  “That’s not necessarily true,” he said. “There are many smaller colleges around the country that have classes similar to what you have at Goodman. But we don’t need to get ahead of ourselves. My primary concern—and Ms. Mandina agrees with me—is to get you tested for ADHD or any other learning differences. It’s a two-day test, and you’re scheduled for Monday and Tuesday.”

  “But I have school.”

  “You’ll miss those two days,” Adrian said, as if it didn’t matter. “You’ll get caught up. It’s more important to get this figured out.”

  “Okay.” Peyton wasn’t going to protest missing two days of school. “Is that all you wanted to talk with me about?”

  Maybe she’d been wrong to assume that she was in trouble.

  “No,” he said, and then he took his iPhone out of his pocket, tapped on the screen a few times and held it out to her.

  She looked down at the screen and froze. On it was a photo of her and Jackson from Thursday night, when they were at their corner table at the Imperial Palace Karaoke Club. It was pixelated, clearly taken from across the room, but sharp enough for the two of them—and the pitcher of beer they’d both drunk from—to be identifiable.

  They sat close to each other, their heads bent in conversation, her sunglasses covering most of her face. She scrolled down to the next photo. Her sunglasses were off her face now and on her head, making it unmistakably her, and Jackson’s hand was on her cheek. She scrolled down again and saw a picture of Jackson resting his forehead against hers, their lips nearly touching.

  Peyton’s chest tightened. She’d promised Jackson she would back off, since she couldn’t stand the thought of getting him in legal trouble because of her. But any possibility of passing off their relationship as a friendship disappeared with that final photo.