by Henry, Max
I can’t believe they’d come out here like this. The kids, sure, but what kind of adults go after a teenage girl like a pack of damn vultures?
“They got the message, then.” Maggie pulls herself to her feet, shoulders back and chin high.
I didn’t know if the Mayberry’s would bite when Colt suggested he leak the information on where to find me to Christian. But if I know Christian’s father, Derek, well enough, he’ll want to spend as little time out here amongst the dirt and the heat as possible.
Anything to speed up their little witch hunt, I guess.
The sleek sports cars take their time coming to a stop along the street. Local’s vehicles litter the parking spaces in sporadic bursts, which means the posse have to split up to get their three cars somewhat close to the Police station.
“I think I might be sick.” Why the hell did I think I could face this on my own? Well, with Maggie, anyway.
These vultures will tear me apart in seconds.
Sleek and oozing precision, the guys’ cars are commonplace in Riverbourne. I never paid much attention to how damn pretentious they are until now. It’s only when you place European speed beside vehicles that have a real purpose—that wear their dents and dirt with pride—that you realise just how egotistical it is of a teenage boy to drive a car that costs more than the average worker’s annual salary.
“Lacey.” Derek’s voice resonates off the front of the station, drawing me from my thoughts. “An interesting, yet savvy, choice of meeting point.” He looks around from beside Christian’s Porsche, straightening the jacket of his suit as he does. “Will your father be joining us?”
“No.” I swallow rocks, willing my legs to hang in there long enough to get through this. “I felt it best to find out what your visit is regarding before I concern him with the details.”
Derek’s eyes narrow. “You haven’t lost your Riverbourne decorum,” he observes. “Pleasing.”
Christian stands braced behind the driver’s door of his Porsche. I frown as Richard approaches from where he parked his Huracan, Libby at his side. But my focus rests on where Arthur and Ingrid choose to hang back behind the group, arses propped against the hood of Arthur’s Jeep.
“Shall we see if we can find a suitable venue for our meeting?” Derek queries. “I’m positive you could recommend a spot, Lacey. A coffee house, perhaps?”
I tear my gaze from the dubious duo and square up to Derek. “I’m sure right here will suit us just fine. I don’t fancy getting too comfortable considering that may invite our impromptu meeting to go on longer than either of us would desire.”
Christian smirks. His father puffs his chest out, fists flexing at his sides. I can’t imagine it’s every day a child one-ups the great barrister.
“If you wish.” Derek gestures to Christian’s car. “I have something to present to you.”
I give Maggie a slight nod to let her know I’d like her to stay close when I move for the car. Derek reaches in the open window and then lays a Manilla folder on the hood as we approach. He slides a finger under the edge to open it out with the precision a thousand incidences such as this have provided.
“I spoke to your brother.”
Christian gently shuts his door as his father speaks. He exchanges a glance with me yet doesn’t let on a single thing.
“He made an offer that hinges on your acceptance and participation.” Derek straightens, two fingers bent to secure the pages inside the open folder.
“An offer?” My gut tightens.
Libby edges closer but comes to an abrupt halt behind Christian’s outstretched arm.
I catch Maggie in my periphery, watching the street as though she waits for somebody else. It dawns on me then that Derek is the only parent who made the drive.
Colt was wrong. What else has he been led to misunderstand?
“Your brother would like to secure your innocence with his guilt,” Derek states. “He has offered to accept the sentences handed down for both the hijinks out here and his assault at our property, on the understanding your name is never mentioned in association with Gayle Everhart again.”
I search out Libby. She gives nothing away, watching with stoic focus.
“Damage to another person’s property, correct?” I query regarding Colt’s behaviour with Johnson’s truck and the tractor.
Derek nods. “Intentional damage, yes.”
“But his involvement at your house?” My brow pinches as I scour the immediate crowd for a hint that any of them understand. Nothing. “Colt was the one assaulted that night—several times. Why the heck would he be punished for it?”
Derek tips his head to one side. “If Colt is charged with common assault, then the whole incident is written off as a group of boys who can’t hold their liquor.” He pointedly glances toward his son. “But if nothing were to come of it, parents would ask questions. And questions would mean we need to dig into the history of the matter.” He narrows his gaze on me. “You see where I’m going with this?”
“If people ask questions, the incident with Mandy is brought into the light.” He knows.
Derek nods. A stiffening of the jaw and the slightest flare of the nostrils is the only indication that Richard pays attention.
I glance to Arthur and Ingrid again, still waiting across the street. “Why did you all need to come if this was what you wanted to discuss with me, Derek?” I fold my arms, comforted by the weight of Maggie’s hand on the back of my shoulder. “Surely this is a matter that’s best discussed with my family only.”
“We wanted to make sure you agreed,” Christian answers on behalf of his father.
The glimmer in his eye gives away the game. If I agree to this, they’ve effectively done me a favour. And a favour calls for one in return.
Such as sweet-talking a landowner into a stupid idea thought up by a boy with a God complex.
“I still don’t understand why she should be the only one who’s let off,” Libby bitches from behind Christian.
“Because Colt didn’t ask to pardon you,” he snaps over his shoulder.
Derek slides the folder toward me, then closing the front cover. “This is your copy, Lacey.” He taps the cover twice. “Take it home, discuss it with your father, and let us know by the end of the week how you’d like to proceed.” He frowns at the sign above us as though to drive the point home. “Time is of the essence when I have bored policemen pressuring me to disclose our out-of-court settlement offer.”
“And if I refuse?” I ask. “What then?”
“Then your brother’s chivalry has been for nothing,” Christian drones.
“And none of this changes,” Libby adds, shouldering her way to the front. “Your charges stick. Did you seriously think you could make a mess in your own backyard and then just run away to the country?”
“Libby,” Derek warns.
“It doesn’t work like that,” she continues, stepping in front of the car.
Her expensive perfume hits my nostrils as my gaze drops to her recently filled pout.
“I’m not running away from a damn thing,” I answer as Maggie’s grip tightens on the top of my shoulder. “I don’t have to be in Riverbourne to get my point across.”
“No,” Richard scoffs. “You get your brother to do it for you. Am I right?”
“Children,” Derek booms. “I implore you to be mindful of where you are.”
Typical. There’s no admonishing their threatening behaviour; only a reminder to conduct this type of business in private.
“Do us all a favour and sign the affidavit,” Libby tosses over her shoulder as she storms back to Richard’s car. “Then get the fuck out of our lives for good.”
I don’t say a damn thing. There’s no point making promises I don’t intend to keep. She drops onto the soft leather seat, scowling at the smile I leave plastered across my face.
“Look forward to hearing your response,” Derek calls as he climbs into Christian’s car. “You know how to reach me
should you have any questions.”
Yeah—by searching my mother’s bed.
“Jesus,” Maggie breathes as the cars all idle toward the intersection. “You don’t have much choice.”
“I have plenty,” I snap. The folder bends in my tightened grip. “And none of them entail doing a damn thing they tell me to.”
COLT
Scrambling isn’t a feeling I’m accustomed to.
I can’t be bothered to lock the car, the action an unnecessary hindrance to my end goal considering it’s bound to be safe, tucked away on Greer’s driveway. My plan hangs in the balance and, as of now, I can’t grasp a decent gut feeling on whether it will work or not.
“Colt.” Greer’s father stands at the door, hands slung in his pockets.
The jerk must have a late start for work today.
“Greer didn’t mention she was expecting a visitor this early in the day.” He stays rigid in the doorway, making it clear he doesn’t intend to let me in without a thorough grilling first.
“Is my presence inconvenient?” I ask with a hint of arrogance in my tone. “I can leave if this isn’t the best time for her.” I make sure to emphasise my last word.
He regards me a moment, running his tongue across his teeth behind closed lips. “Why are you here?”
“To see your daughter.” We’re a foot apart, each as rigid as the other.
“What for?” His eyes narrow a fraction.
“If you’d prefer she didn’t have school friends to the house, I can arrange to see her elsewhere.” I lift a dismissive hand and make to leave.
“No.”
Suckered.
“I’m curious, is all.” Her father steps aside, gesturing to the foyer. “You can wait here while I let her know you’ve arrived.”
“Much appreciated.” I force a smile on my face, careful not to brush against the arsehole when I step indoors.
He makes himself scarce up the staircase, leaving me in the silent holding chamber that is their double-storey, chandelier-clad foyer. For people who started from middle-class roots, they sure know how to hint at their wealth like the best of them.
“Colt.” Greer jogs down the stairs, her father not far behind. “You should have let me know you were coming.” Her eyes flash in a warning.
I glance at the overbearing figure behind her and sigh. “I’ll be sure to do that next time.” Her father continues into the belly of the house when Greer stops beside me. “Maybe even email over a detailed itinerary,” I murmur.
She slaps me on the arm. “Stop it.”
I snatch her against me, tasting her lips. A sweet sigh escapes before she seemingly snaps to her senses and shunts me away.
“Careful.” Greer’s gaze darts toward the rest of the house. “Come in here.” Her smooth palm circles my wrist and she guides me into their front sitting room. “You must know he doesn’t like you.”
“I got the impression. Yes.”
She lets go, moving for the chaise lounge draped in golden rays of the morning sun. “Mum and Dad have been talking.” Greer sits, the light adding to her natural radiance. “It seems our friends did a great job of making their parents believe that there was no unrest amongst our social circle until you came back from Arcadia.”
“Such bullshit,” I mumble, folding my arms across my chest.
She sets one leg atop the other. “You and I know that. But they don’t. It’s hard to make an informed decision when the facts you’re given are so biased.”
“What do you know?”
Her chest rises, head turning away. “Not much.” I study her profile, wondering again how she could never have affected me until now. “Libby has cut me loose, and her minions follow suit dutifully.”
“But you sat with them at lunch,” I query.
“All bullshit,” she confesses. “Ingrid bitched. The boys made digs at me. It wasn’t a friendly reunion.”
I move closer. “I told you the Chosen see you as a threat.”
She lifts a single finger. “You told me that Libby sees me as a threat. Not the others.”
“It’s always the quiet ones.” My lips quirk up on one side.
She smiles in response. “It is, isn’t it.” Her face falls, a frown marring her brow. “In which case …”
“Arthur,” I state, finishing her train of thought for her.
Greer nods. “He’s commented Libby deserves what she gets. What if he thinks the same about the others?”
“You think he’s an insider?” I drop to the seat adjacent to hers.
She eyes my shoes on the spotless cream rug. “You should probably take those off before my mother sees you.”
I chuckle and reach down to remove them. “You think she’ll make that much effort?”
Greer smiles wanly. “Now that you mention it, no. But I’d rather not give them anything extra to criticise you for.”
“Noted.”
Her hands fidget on her lap, manicured nails clicking against one another. “Have you heard any further from Derek?”
I shake my head, taking my turn to fidget with my fingertips. “Nothing. But you know how lawyers work.”
“How?” She lifts one eyebrow. “Because last I saw my parents dealing with them, they’d call every opportunity for a ‘catch up’ simply so they could send another bill for their time.”
“You’re not alleviating my worry,” I murmur.
Greer sighs. Her skirt rustles as she shifts down the sofa toward me. “Look. You’ve done what you can. If you had a better idea, I’m sure you would have executed it by now.”
“Would I?” I search her eyes for any hint of her stance on this.
She looks away. “I think so.”
“But?” My word is barely more than a begging rasp.
“But.” She returns her focus to me, head titled to one side and a small smile playing on her lips. “You have to admit you’ve always been the rogue, Colt Williams.”
“Should I be flattered you took notice, Ms Roberts?” I tease.
Uh-huh. I use humour to mask my concern. So, sue me.
“It’s a little hard not to notice when gossip about a certain senior boy shagging a third-year girl in the gym change room spreads through the female scholars like wildfire.”
“You heard about that, huh?”
“Jesus, Colt. Who didn’t?” She lets out a mocking laugh. “I’m sure it was a hot topic at the teacher’s meeting that Friday. They probably wrote a whole new passage into the school guidelines for it.”
I laugh, relaxing into the seat.
“Actually.” Greer leans toward me, her bent arm propped on the high end of the chaise. “What did happen about that?”
I snort. “I was made to endure one hour of the school health technician giving me a lecture on the importance of safe sex and respecting your partner.”
She chuckles. “Who was more embarrassed. You, or her?”
“Her. Clearly.” Legs apart, I adopt a dominant stance. “Have you thought any more about what I said yesterday?”
“We should probably head for school, Colt.” Greer rises to her feet, hands smoothing the pleats of her skirt.
“Don’t shut me out,” I plead on hushed tones. “It’s simple, Greer. Either you want to try this, or you don’t.”
Her deep ombre eyes fix on mine. “But it’s not that easy, is it?”
“Why not?”
“Because of everything that you’ve done,” she hisses on a whisper. “If I make it public, that we’ve decided to try our luck at being a couple, then I have so much outside pressure from my parents, school, our family friends.”
Biting back the slander that wants to escape, I rise from the chair, shoulders stiff. “I guess it comes down to an even more basic question, then Greer.” Her lips twist, eyes wide as I close the space between us. She searches my gaze. “Which matters more to you?” I lean in close, brushing my forehead against her before pulling back. “Money, or love?”
“That’s not fa
ir.” Her shoulders curl inward, one foot taking a tentative step back.
“Isn’t it?” I gesture to the grandiose room about us. “Because all it boils down to, is money, Greer. This life? This privilege? It’s all a fantastic smokescreen for the disgusting and dubious things we do to maintain it.” I huff a bitter laugh. “Everything has a price, babe.”
Her throat bobs.
“Tell me. What’s yours?”
TUCK
“What’s your plan today?”
Kurt doesn’t lift his head from the paper before him when he asks. Coffee in one hand, local news in the other, he’s back to regimented and practical.
“Speak with Lacey and leave her clear on my position.”
“Good.” His eyes lift; stance unchanged. “That’s all you need to do, son. Don’t overthink this. You’ve given the girl plenty of opportunity from what you told me yesterday. The rest is up to her.”
Except I didn’t tell him everything. I gave my old man the PG-rated, clean version of mine and Lacey’s short-lived relationship.
What happened in the forest? Still ours to keep.
What I did in Riverbourne for her? Never happened, as far as he’s concerned.
“Anything else you want to add?”
I look up from my cereal to find him watching me; the paper set down on the table. “No, Sir.”
“Tuck.” Kurt sighs, pushing the paper away. “If you want things to change, then that requires honesty on both our halves. Understood?”
“Completely.” I down the last three mouthfuls of Weet-Bix in a hurry. “Am I excused?”
“Yes.” He sighs and then takes a slow sip of his coffee.
Retreating from the table, I set my dishes in the sink for our housekeeper, Bianca, and then bolt toward my room. Talking with Dad last night was helpful—I won’t bullshit and say that it wasn’t a complete waste of time. But he has such a differing point of view to me.
I’m reminded of how much I take after my mother. Sure, I look like my Dad. I’m a guy; I’m bound to take on my father’s physical traits.
But my heart and my head? They were nurtured and shaped by my mother’s love. Not his.
