“My lovelies, the sun is bright and the world is watching.” She smiles at the sky, inhaling the scent of urban pollution. Thomas brings her usual Bloody Mary on a gold serving tray. “The sun reminds me of the Chateau Ramont where my lover Santiago and I made love for four nights and three days.”
“Here we go,” Jordana mutters as she flips to another page of one of her mother’s feminist self-help books entitled, I Am Not My Period.
“I was twenty-eight and fresh off my second marriage with John James Clark the fifth. Arrogant bastard that lacked in the bedroom.”
“Oh my God!” Poppy with her pink silk scarf tied around her head is fairly interested in this story.
“Yes,” Ms. Eleanor dramatically sighs. “I met Santiago on my way to France. Poured my sorrows onto him and in return he gave me culminating passion.” She pauses and claps in excitement. “August!” I look up as she spreads out her arms waiting for my brother who is walking nervously to her. She embraces him and he winces then smiles. “So happy to have you home!”
“Thank you.” He runs to my side and takes a seat. “Hi, Poppy. Hi, Cody. Hi, Jordana.” He waves to them, not making eye contact. I’ve never seen my brother wave before. I wonder when he started doing that. His mannerisms are always the same so I easily notice when they change.
I pour him a glass of milk. It’s his favorite drink in the world. Literally it’s all he will drink. We have to give him ice cream so he can drink water. He leans in to me and whispers. “I met a pretty girl.”
I look at him as he places his napkin over his lap and prepares to dig into the Belgian waffle I already cut up for him. Turning my head around, I see Juliet standing, leaning against the wall, staring at us for a moment, at me before coming to the table. She greets everyone before taking a seat and smiles as Ms. Eleanor kisses her on the cheek.
Her shirt is a bit revealing as it shows the black bra underneath on the sleeveless sides and cleavage area. Her shirt reads ‘Foreigner”, very fitting and I don’t mean it because she’s British either.
“Juliet, my darling, did you sleep well?” Ms. Eleanor asks before taking a sip of her Bloody Mary.
“Yes, wonderful,” she smiles. A quick glance from her is thrown my way before pouring herself orange juice.
“Have you met August?” Ms. Eleanor asks, her hand extended towards my brother’s way.
“Yes.” She looks at my brother, smiling and waving.
August snickers and quickly waves back. I know where he got it from now.
“Hugo,” my brother addresses me.
“Yes?” I continue reading today’s news on my iPad. Another explosion in a foreign country, crime rate is ten percent down, people still complaining about ObamaCare, and another celebrity baby is born.
“Can you rub my head?” August requests.
I place my hand on top of his and begin combing my fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. There was only one person who did this and that was my mother. Ever since she died, I have become the one to do it. He doesn’t let anyone else, for fear of others hurting him. He’s scared of a lot of people. Always been scared of Scarlett. Makes fun of Cody, adores Poppy, hesitant at first but warmed up to Jordana, lets Ms. Eleanor dress him up in her old attire, and me—well, I’m his brother. I peak through my glasses to see Juliet as she drinks from her glass. Ever since last night, I have imagined her in every sexual position known to man. I am attracted to her. I want to fuck her, but especially after last night, I’m not sure my Patriot should invade England.
“So what’s on the agenda for today?” Cody asks.
“Daddy gave me my allowance, so I’m going shopping.” Poppy twirls her strawberry blonde hair and giggles with excitement.
“I was supposed to have a private date, but I think I will cancel it,” Jordana says.
“A private date with who?” Cody asks.
Jordana smiles mischievously. “With Margaret Jacobs.”
“Margaret Jacobs?” Cody’s mouth drops, but I don’t understand why. I thought we all knew this already. “The racist and bigot daughter of Steven Jacobs?!”
“Wait, I’ve heard of the Jacobs family,” Juliet says. “They come to my family’s functions in London.
“Of course you have,” I say. “Steven Jacobs is a Republican not afraid to voice his opinion on the so called flaws of humanity and America.”
“He’s a racist prick,” Cody spits out. “Then again, most of you are.”
“Cody, as a woman who prefers women, I find that highly offensive,” Jordana points out.
“First day I came here, Hugo said, ‘Oh look, our very own token black boy.’”
“Doesn’t mean I’m racist. You are the only black person of this house,” I defend myself.
“And Poppy asked me if I met Jay Z,” Cody continues.
“You have though. He performed at your thirteenth birthday party,” Jordana points out. “So what, me too. He and Kanye work with my father all the time.”
“And she always rubs my hair and skin,” Cody points to Poppy who laughs.
“That’s only when I’m under the influence.”
“Which is 99.9 % of the time,” I add.
“Exactly,” Poppy joyfully agrees. “Juliet, you want to come shopping with us?”
“Uh, sure, why not? I could use something new.”
Poppy claps in excitement. “Yay! Girls’ day!”
“Oh God,” Jordana moans, placing her Chanel sunglasses over her eyes and she stops Thomas who is bringing Ms. Eleanor her third Bloody Mary. “Thomas, please bring me a Crown and coke and make it a double.”
JULIET
After breakfast I go into the living room and study the pictures over the white colored fire place that catch my attention. They’re pictures from the years of Ms. Eleanor’s life. She has photos of her in her younger days with several handsome men and there’s one with my mormor. They look to be in their late twenties. They look to be at the races, both wearing these huge funny looking hats. My heart begins to brighten then ache just thinking about her and the fact she’s gone. I miss her so much.
My eyes wander to two family photos next to each other on the right. One with Ms. Eleanor, three boys, one girl, and a small boy. This is them. The original Sinful Saints along with August who looks to be maybe ten or eleven. There’s a tall boy with brown hair and a bright smile, a blonde who is very handsome but his eyes look dark and he has this lazy grin. Then there is the boy who stands closely next to the platinum blonde girl. He’s smiling and wearing sunglasses, the same as Hugo’s, but of course it isn’t Hugo. This is their older brother. I wonder where he is now? I study the blonde. She’s very beautiful. She’s the type of beauty from the forties or fifties. Her blonde hair falls perfectly around her shoulders and her lips are glowingly red. This must be Scarlett. They all look to be sixteen or seventeen. I move on to the second picture and see Jordana, trying not to smile. Her cinnamon hair was longer, Poppy with her bright, bubbly smile, Cody with no hair, August, Scarlett again except older and more beautiful, and Hugo. Damn. Hugo looks exactly like his brother, Gabriel, in the picture. The way he stands, the way he’s dressed, and he even had on the bloody damn sunglasses. Except, unlike his brother, Hugo wasn’t smiling in the picture. What else is funny between the photos was that Scarlett was smiling brighter in the one with Hugo than with his brother. That sort of bothers me. I don’t like any of her smiles. It’s the kind of smile that laughs in your face telling you off. Maybe I’m totally overthinking it again, but it seems to me she was happier with Hugo because of his lack of smile.
“Ms. Eleanor loves to take family photos.” I jump at the sound of Hugo behind me. I turn around to see him staring at me through his shades and his hands in his pockets.
“This is your brother?” I point to the picture.
“It is.”
“Where is he now?”
“He’s dead.” My heart drops for him and August.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
/>
“It’s alright.” He has no emotion when he says it. You would think his death had no effect on him whatsoever.
“So, do you have any other siblings?”
“No, just August and I… you?”
“A little brother, Gregor. He’s twelve. Your brother, August, he’s sweet.” I smile just thinking about him.
“Yes, he does have that sweet charm when he likes someone. Most people just feel sorry for him.”
“I don’t understand why,” I say, confused. “So what, he’s autistic. It doesn’t define him and I like to see it that he’s in his own world. A world where he knows everything and most likely he does. The people we deem fragile are usually the ones who are brighter than we are.”
“You’re an optimist.”
“No,” I shake my head, smiling. “I’m truthful.”
“Everyone has their own versions of the truth. A truth that meets their beliefs. A truth that makes them happy. When my brother and I were five, I was speaking full sentences and learning the difference between right and wrong… August was banging his head on the table and throwing fine china everywhere. He couldn’t speak. All he did was scream. He screamed when he was sad and angry, smiled when he was happy. My mother was worried and begged to have my brother checked out. My father told her that he was just a late bloomer. A child that bites his arm so hard that he bleeds is a late bloomer. My dad saw the truth that he wanted to see. We all do sometimes.”
“Well, that was depressing.” He doesn’t say anything, probably shocked at my response. “Must’ve been hard for you… all that weight on your shoulders.”
“I managed along with the nannies and my older brother, Gabriel. My mother finally got August tested and got him the best speech therapist, schooling, everything. He finally spoke when we were eight. His first word was Gabriel. He first made eye contact with me, and then my name and my mom’s name came after.”
“He spoke the names of the people that didn’t give up on him.” I smile at him, but he doesn’t react. He just stares my way, his lips pressed together in a tight, firm line.
You know the moment in a horror film where some unexpected noise occurs or a dark cave, basement or whatever appears? Basically, it is a clear sign that you should not follow the noise or the strange, pale child because it will lead you to your abrupt end. But no, the nitwit on screen still follows that noise, pale and creepy looking child, or decides to explore the dark cave, basement, spooky house. They’re curious and unfortunately curiosity always kills the cat. In this case, I am the nitwit in the horror film—the cat. The dark places, scary looking little shit, and freaky as shit noise, curiosity… well that’s this guy right here.
“Hugo, you want to play a game, right quick?” I ask out of the blue, digging in my back pocket for the silver dollar. Yes, I sometimes keep a silver dollar in my back pocket.
“It depends, is there a winner?”
“You don’t like games where there isn’t a winner or loser?”
“Those games are only for practice.”
“Okay, well, there is a winner for this game.”
“And what does the winner get?”
“Don’t you want to know the game first?”
“I’m sure it has something to do with that silver dollar in your hand.”
I smile. “Perceptive, you are and it does. Actually, it’s a guessing game. I’m going to put my hands behind my back and count to… let’s say five seconds and bring them back out and your task is to guess which hand the silver dollar is in.”
“How original,” he deadpans.
I roll my eyes. “Don’t you want to know what you get if you win?”
He waits for my answer, sullen as usual.
“Me.”
“You’re fucking with me.”
“No,” I shake my head. “If I win though…” I come closer to him, my body barely touching his. “I get to undress you… and everything I take off of you… I get to keep for my own personal collection.”
He slowly licks his lips. God, I love it when he does that.
“Fine,” he gives his consent.
I place my hands behind my back and count off. “One… two… three… four… five.” I pull out my fists, palms down. He carefully stares at them, but seeing it’s a win-win, he goes ahead and picks my left. I open it, revealing nothing. It’s cruel of me, but while I was counting, I slid the silver dollar back into my back pocket.
He sighs in arrogance and smirks in victory. “Guess you’ve won.”
“I guess so.” My heart races as I move closer towards him. I place delicate fingers on the hem of his shirt. I look at him, slyly grinning and the corners of his mouth start to turn up in anticipation. Too bad I’m just teasing him. I let go of the hem and place my hands on his stomach, gliding them up to his chest that feels very nice and hard. I move further up to his neck. His lips part and his breathing becomes ragged, matching mine. The corners of his mouth begin to flatten as I move up to his face, placing my hands flat on his cheeks. I look him in the eye through his sunglasses and slowly exhale. “I’m going to undress you.” I tell him the truth.
I daringly remove the sunglasses from his face, revealing the same eyes August brightened me with earlier. “There it is.” He stares at me with a blank expression. Nose narrow and perfect, lips plush and pink, he’s beautiful and his eyes—one green, one blue… the contrast is very fitting for him. He has two sides to him and now I realize that I want to discover both.
I smile broadly and his brow creases. There’s one emotion.
“I’m going to hold onto these for a while,” I tell him. “You could use a break from the dark. See it as a holiday.”
I walk away, leaving him with his soul wide open for the world to see.
Hugo
She took my fucking glasses. Bitch.
5
JULIET
“So what is it with Hugo anyway? Is he really…?”
“An arsehole?” Jordana finishes my question. She gives me a sly smile before continuing. “You’re really fond of him, aren’t you?”
“I’m just curious. I took his sunglasses.”
“What?” Poppy peaks her head out from behind the curtains of the dressing room. “He doesn’t let anybody do that.”
“Well, maybe he’s fond of me?” I sip the glass of complimentary champagne with confidence.
“Oh no, there isn’t a maybe. He is,” Jordana declares. I feel excited like a pathetic girl gets when the boy she likes like her. “Hugo is very complicated, literally the definition of it. He is capable of feelings, but I wouldn’t bet too much on him exploring them. Remember. He doesn’t do love.”
“That’s jumping the gun, isn’t it? I’m not trying to marry the lad.”
She squints her eyes at me. “You seem like the type that easily would jump the gun if you thought it was the right thing to do.”
I can’t even defend myself. She’s totally right.
“Well, Hugo is definitely a loaded gun,” I say as one of the sales clerks comes and pours us another glass of champagne.
“Yes, he is, but he wasn’t always like that. I guess you can say he was in transition. Still saw a smile from him, showed his affection for August out in the open, but that faded every day until he became who he is now. I can’t say that I blame him. When Hugo arrived from boarding school, it wasn’t on good circumstances. ”
“What do you mean?”
She looks at me hesitantly. “You know that his brother Gabriel is dead right?”
I nod yes.
“The reason why he came here was to look after August after Gabriel killed himself.” My mouth and heart drop. “Yeah, he shot himself in Scarlett’s room… the room where you are sleeping.”
“Holy fuck,” I mumble to myself.
“Holy fuck is right.”
“Why Scarlett’s room? Were they lovers too?”
“Yep, they were. All the original Sinful Saints—Michelson, Noel Rochester—they all were fuck
ing her, sharing her, and sharing their evil ploys. Everyone at school feared them. They just loved fucking with people. Chad, he was such a fucking creep. Last I heard he’s living in the ghetto because his dad cut him off because of his drug addiction. Noel Rochester left when Hugo got there. He attended Harvard and changed his ways, I suppose. When Hugo arrived, Scarlett basically created a carbon copy of his older brother, but according to her… better.”
“I knew I wasn’t overthinking those family photographs,” I say.
“No one knows why Gabriel killed himself, but everyone assumes that it was because he fell in love with Scarlett and couldn’t handle the fact that she didn’t love him back. Hugo’s ignorance of love is what makes him better. He has feelings, but no love—only tolerance,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Whatever the fuck that means.”
“What about August? He can’t be serious to say he doesn’t love his own twin.”
“Oh, you can argue with him on that, but he will claim only sympathy and obligation towards his brother.”
“How could he?”
“Easy, they are identical twins. Same height, same hair color, they both have heterochromia for Christ sakes…”
“They’re sick?” Poppy interrupts peeking her head again from behind the curtain, a wary look on her face.
Jordana smacks her lips. “It’s the reason why they both have different eye colors, Poppy. They’re not sick.”
“Oh,” she shrugs and disappears back behind the curtain.
“But yeah,” Jordana continues. “They have all that yet only one of them came out with a brain development disorder.”
“Wow.” I take a long sip of my drink savoring it along with Hugo’s reality. “I mean, it’s amazing how he is to me... I see his potential, but given an ass of a father, dead brother, he’s given up.”
“That’s just not it. Gabriel killed himself knowing the promise that was made between them. Hugo told me before he became this complete shutdown. Their mother killed herself.” I didn’t think my heart could hurt more for Hugo, but it does. “Hugo witnessed her jump off the balcony of their condo when he was little. Hugo is literally the definition of a kid who’s been handed fucked up cards. Us, we are spoiled and privileged, but if not both at least one of our parents actually love us… they’re just too ignorant to show it like they should. Hugo’s father has always been a son of a bitch. His affairs are what made his mother sick and want to kill herself. Hugo has hated him ever since. I swear one more snap from his father, Hugo will seek revenge on him.”
Sinners & Saints (Sinners & Saints #1) Page 7
