It’s an essence of peace that can only accompany power, and the rich buy it like property.
Calm is their neighbor.
Calamity was mine.
And despite the differences in our upbringings, I never felt like I wasn’t at home in Foxx’s house, never felt like I didn’t belong—even when the noise of the city streets stuck to my clothes like the smell of smog or smoke.
Not until tonight.
As I drive up the lighted entrance into Foxx’s estate, I feel almost self-conscious—as if I’ve brought the noise with me and I can’t shake it out of my clothes.
The white pillars that frame the house nearly shine with an ivory gleam. The banner by the front door says “Welcome.”
Strange. This is the first time that I feel nothing of the sort.
I’ve been to this house a thousand times… but never under these circumstances.
Not when I know that there’s at least one person there who isn’t looking forward to my entrance. Not when I don’t know what awaits me.
It’s always been the three of us: Foxx, Chris and me. Thieves aspired to be as thick as we’d become.
But now the balance was being upset. Foxx is building his own family.
And it’s never been more evident than it is now—as I walk up the polished cream steps to what used to be a second home… to bear gifts… at his soon-to-be sister-in-law’s blowout.
I knock on the front door, not knowing if the other sister-in-law is lying in wait to knock my head off of my shoulders.
The door opens quickly and I am pulled into an embrace before I know what’s happening. Kat.
“About time you came,” she grins, releasing me. “We were afraid that you weren’t going to show.”
I almost say my first mind’s thought. I was out, steam-pressing the city sounds from my clothes because if I didn’t, you might see that I really don’t belong.
I don’t say it.
Instead, I grin widely, shaking my head. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
She nods knowingly at me, looking curiously at my face as my eyes wander over her long wavy hair.
A blood-red light covers the walls from floor to ceiling. It enshrouds everything in front of us. It’s like walking into a photography dark room, and it gives the house a supernatural feel—both spooky and sexual.
“What’s with the lights?”
“What?” Kat innocently replies, doing a three-sixty on her feet. “Oh, these? They’re cool, aren’t they? They’re meant for the party.”
“They’re meant for a sex club.”
Kat gasps, looking back up at the walls beside me. Foxx appears almost out of thin air, rubbing her arms from behind.
He reaches in to slap hands with me, but when he steps back, he glares.
“Don’t listen to Griff, baby. They’re party lights.”
I scoff at Foxx. “Yeah, this will be one hell of a party. All of Ana’s friends will step into the house and think they’ve wandered into some type of orgy-fest. They’ll think it’s the best party they’ve ever been invited to.”
Foxx nearly knocks me all the way into the kitchen to avoid causing Kat any more panic.
I sit on a nearby stool as he pours a drink for me into a red Solo cup. He grabs the liquor from a locked cabinet, and I see why once I take a look around at what’s left out for the “kiddies.”
Soda, light beer, and fruity wine coolers.
Sissy shit.
I don’t take a sip of the vodka until Foxx sits down beside me.
“Seriously, Foxx?” I say, nodding upward. “The lights?”
He laughs, bowing his head. “I know, man; I know. Kat thought they were cool for the party. I didn’t have the heart to tell her.”
“Or the balls.”
Foxx throws a swift elbow to my ribs, nearly knocking my stool over. Ouch. Fuck.
He scoffs. “Yeah, right, Griff. If I didn’t have any, there’s no way I could survive this relationship. Man, these Lexington women, I tell ya… Even Ana.”
He shakes his head, laughing, letting blonde strands of hair fall forward.
“Nah, Kat’s tough… but she’s not Elena-bad.”
I stiffen, pulling my cup mechanically to my lips before taking a forced swallow.
Great. I had to get with the sister that has her own level of ruthlessness.
Foxx checks his watch.
“In fact,” he says. “Elena should be showing up with Ana sometime within the next hour.”
I take a look around. “Well, where are all the kids? The students?”
Foxx stands from his stool. “Don’t worry; this place’ll be packed with them before you can blink. Kat told me that the entire school might just show up. I think I may have even heard a radio announcement go out about the party…”
He shakes his head, tilting his own drink to his mouth before freezing the cup mid-air. He sits it down instead of drinking it.
His smile drops.
“So,” he says, swirling the liquor. “Chris told me what happened…”
I squint at him. “What happened?”
“At the bar the last time you guys hung out.”
Shit. Here we go.
I feign indifference. “Yeah?”
Foxx stares harder at me, leaning in.
“You want to tell me what that’s all about?”
His glare probes my face, searching for answers. But I won’t meet his eye. I stare straight ahead, determined to ignore his question.
“Nothing. It was a one time thing.”
“Just one time?”
Lie.
“Yeah. One time.”
I wait… and wait… but the barrage doesn’t come.
Instead, Foxx nods at me.
“Alright, if you say so… but I want you to know that I’m here, man. Always… and if you ever…”
A crash rings out from the front patio, shifting our attention towards the door.
The party has barely started and, already, it seems that things are starting to take a turn.
“Shit,” Foxx gripes. “Let me go check on that real quick.”
I grunt in reply.
It won’t be quick.
Just like our usual get-togethers that have been pushed back or like when “I’ll hit you up tomorrow” turns into “I’ll let you know what’s up next week,” this conversation too will likely never be brought up again.
What was once an unbreakable bond between us three friends lately feels like Elmer’s glue, and I start to wonder if things will stay that way from now on.
While I ponder this, Foxx turns his back to me, walking back to the foyer with his cup in hand.
“My place is gonna be fucked,” he mutters under his breath.
***
An hour later, the sound of breaking glass barely earns a glance from me, and the frequency of scattered booms and splashes has increased ten-fold, but doesn’t faze me anymore.
Foxx was right.
His place is going to be fucked.
More guests started to trickle in as soon as I finished my drink. Within the next half an hour, five people turned into ten—ten turned into twenty—and somehow fifteen minutes later, that twenty turned into two hundred.
Did the party have a TV commercial spot as well? Where the hell did all these people come from?
I watch the door with latent curiosity, waiting for the guests of the hour to arrive, but still… no Ana… no Elena.
Just co-ed after co-ed.
Cheerleader. Frat. Goth.
I wander around aimlessly, helping Foxx keep a tab on things. As if he needed the help. He’s got big, burly security guards at the house’s major entrance points.
Despite the persistent and unseasonable chill in the air, every part of Foxx’s mansion is at the partygoers’ disposal. The pool, the furnished basement. Everything.
Everything but the upstairs floor.
Foxx doesn’t want anyone upstairs—told me he doesn’t need any careless
college students stumbling up the stairs and getting knocked up on his watch.
But he didn’t include me in those rules.
I brush past security without a word, heading up the stairs so I can drink and mellow out in relative peace.
I don’t need another frat boy wrapping his arm around my shoulders to convince me to sneak another keg in. And I certainly don’t need another of Ana’s friends purposely flashing me tits and ass every time I turn a corner.
I’ll pass on the theatrics.
I hop the stairs two-at-a-time on my way up to the second level mezzanine. The downstairs symphony of noise fades further into the background with each step, and for the first time all night, I can actually hear myself think.
I slow down midway in my ascent, taking labored sips out of my Solo cup.
The shuffle of my pant legs as I move towards the mezzanine sounds almost deafening. My footsteps start to sound hollow to my own ears. Everything goes out of focus until I feel like I am floating through a vacuum.
It’s my thoughts; they’re drifting away—isolating me in a world of my own making. It happens every time I drink—every time I drink to excess.
The world slips out of my grasp, and all that’s left is me.
This used to happen all the time when I was a teenager. I’d drink just to numb. I’d drink to forget.
But now I’m damn near thirty, and this is the second time that it’s happened to me in recent weeks. That’s two times too many.
The fucked up part is that one side of me sees what’s happening and wants to stop it, but feels powerless to do so. And the other side… just doesn’t give a fuck.
The two usually fight it out inside my brain until one of them wins.
I lean against the wall outside of an upstairs guest bedroom, fighting the urge to sit down. I wonder which one it will be tonight.
I meander through Foxx’s hallways and bedrooms, knocking my hands against doors, tapping my feet against carpeted floors.
Foxx built this fairly simple home for himself a few years back. His amenities are black, simple—clean, but not extravagant. I find hardwood where there should be marble—white fixtures where there should be silver.
I’m half-shocked when I don’t find cracked ceramic in the showers.
His home is so different from his childhood home, from his father’s house… from mine…
Like the elder Foxx—the indomitable powerhouse magnate of Foxxhole Publishing—I’ve used my wealth to lavish my life with beautiful things wherever I could find them, to indulge in luxury whenever it presented itself.
My extravagance is known for having no boundaries.
The expensive shirt on my shoulders. The Beemer I parked outside. The plastic women who have floated in and out of my life.
They’ve all played a part in who Lukas Griffin has become. And suddenly, after looking—really looking—at the modesty of Foxx’s home, everything I’ve acquired now seems so shallow.
Or maybe I’m just drunk and talking crazy.
Yup, that’s probably it…
I start to raise my cup to my lips again when something inside of me snaps.
I pour what’s left of my drink down a bathroom drain, trashing the Solo cup with a slam that tilts the waste bin.
Suddenly, I feel fifteen again, and I’m slamming my last liquor bottle against the wall—the last time I vowed to ever pick up a bottle again.
Old habits die hard… but I’ve been down this road before. I know how it ends. I know it’s not where I want to be…
I close the door before the smell of the alcohol can hit my nostrils, before the pull of an old seduction makes me lose what little will I have left.
Thirteen years.
Thirteen long fucking years… and I’m still afraid. Still afraid that the demons of my past will resurface to haunt me—that the mistakes of the father will manifest within the son.
They have before. I have to ensure they won’t again.
But every day is a battle for control.
I turn another corner in Foxx’s house wondering if another demon will meet me around the bend.
And when I enter one of the empty bedrooms, I find one sitting in wait…
The House Always Wins
Remember this: The house doesn't beat the player. It just gives him the opportunity to beat himself. – Nicholas Dandalos
ELENA
“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” I huff heavily, pulling the remainder of my shirt down over my head.
“Why would I knock on what’s supposed to be an empty room?” Griff throws at me. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“This is my sister’s party. I brought her here. And as you just freaking saw, I’m getting changed.”
I run my fingers through my hair, trying to regain my dignity.
Lukas just caught me bare-breasted, switching clothes for the party, and even now… in the dark… I can tell he’s staring intently at me.
“I can’t believe this,” I mutter softly, adjusting my sweater sleeves.
His voice floats over my head.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Elena. It’s not like I haven’t seen you before.”
He stresses the last few words, and heat crawls up my neck and into my face.
I keep my head down as I continue to fold my dirty clothes by the bed. I avoid showing my face—though I know he cannot see it, anyway.
I snort. “And I can promise that you never will again. And what happens to my panties are none of your concern.”
I swear I can hear him grin from across the room. It’s infuriating… yet frustratingly arousing.
The curve of his mouth. The shape of lips.
I remember every detail… but I wish I didn’t.
I don’t want to want Lukas Griffin.
I sit on the bed, gathering the rest of my belongings.
“Why are you stalking through the shadows, anyway?” I ask angrily.
“Why are you? Who gets changed in the dark?”
“A person who has a massive migraine from setting up a party all day, that’s who. But… you wouldn’t know anything about that.”
He continues to stand, unmoving, in the doorway, looking menacing in all black clothing.
He scoffs. “Like I had any choice. You shut me out, remember?”
“And rightfully so,” I respond softly. I slide my bare feet into my wedges, preparing to smooth out my skirt and strut past Lukas.
But I don’t. I know I should just end this conversation, but I have this urge to argue with him. Everything about him hits a nerve in me.
Even when he’s not trying to, he manages to offend me.
“You can’t do something as simple as knock on a closed door. Organizing and planning anything of meaning might make your head explode.”
He takes a step closer, lowering his voice in anger.
“You underestimate me, Elena. It would be wise not to.”
I still can’t see his eyes, but I can feel them—can feel the concentrated burn of those deep green irises.
The dark adds a malevolence to his appearance, the deep color of his hair and clothes made even deeper by the obscurity of the room.
Do I dare challenge him?
I’m tempted… but reading his body language makes me hesitate. He stands there, rigid, facing me.
His silhouette seems sculpted from granite, the breadth of his shoulders and set of his jaw giving him the appearance of living stone.
My nerves are humming.
Every inch of me is tingling.
I stand still, stiff as a board. Not out of courage, but out of fear.
I’m afraid of what will happen if he touches me. I’m afraid of what will happen if he doesn’t.
Luckily, I don’t have to wait and see… because a frantic Kat interrupts us, barging through the open door.
I balk, feeling caught red-handed, but Kat doesn’t notice. In fact, she seems entirely unfazed by the scene in front of her.
Typical, self-absorbed Kat.
I guess I don’t expect any less from her.
Not these days.
She grabs for my arm with no sense of finesse.
“Elle,” she exclaims breathlessly. “I need you to go pick up the cupcakes.”
Anger beats inside my chest.
“Me?” I spout, outraged. “Why don’t you go get Foxx to do it?”
She exhales roughly. “I can’t. He took off with Chris a few minutes ago. Some work emergency.”
I can feel Griff tense beside me. But I keep talking.
“Well, then, why don’t you?”
“There are eight dozen cupcakes.”
I don’t respond.
“I can’t. That’s too heavy for me,” Kat continues. “You know that I can’t.”
If looks could kill, I’d be a dead woman. Still… I’m not having it. She’s the one who’s wrong.
Not me.
I throw a few daggers of my own to remind her.
“I guess I do know, don’t I?” I sweep past her, nearly brushing her on my way out.
“Fine,” I call over my shoulder. “I’ll get the damn cupcakes.”
The sounds of my footsteps echo down the wooden staircase as I make my way through the foyer and out of the house.
When I hear a second pair exit the front door behind me, I twirl on my feet, ready for a round two shouting match.
But it’s Lukas, not Kat.
He catches my shoulders as I whirl on him.
“Oh,” I say, surprised. I look up into his green eyes. “Sorry.”
“I’m sorry. Almost knocked you over.”
I shrug. “It’s ok. I thought you were Kat for a sec. I’m actually glad you’re not.”
I lower my gaze.
“I’d rather be around you than her right now, and that’s saying something.”
I half-expect him to frown at my joke, but he grins. He takes a step back, looking down at me, but I notice that he never lets go of my shoulders.
I extricate myself from his hands.
“I’ve gotta go,” I say, turning my back.
But I can feel him again. He’s still behind me, emanating heat like a shadowy sun.
Hour by Hour (Games & Diversions #2) Page 2
