Wild: Savannah Heirs

by June, CoraLee

  “Fine. If you add an extra twenty, I’ll even pick up my shotgun.”

  Scary man with a gun aimed at us? No, thank you. I wanted to give her a thrill, not scare the alcohol-saturated pee out of her.

  From the corner of my eye, I could see that half of Royal’s breast was nearly falling out from all the chocolate she’d crammed into her bra. Her chest had prominent bulky lines stuffed under the fabric, and she was slipping off her heels, preparing to run.

  “No shotgun necessary.”

  Bob looked oddly disappointed, but he just shrugged and stuffed the seventy bucks into his pocket.

  Royal took a deep, slow exhale, and then she started sprinting towards the door. “Make a break for it, Luis!” she shouted like the worst chocolate thief in history. She wasn’t exactly subtle.

  It was a good thing she was drunk, because Bob gave the worst performance of his life.

  “Oh, no. Don’t steal. Stop.” His voice was monotone and humorless. Maybe I should have asked him to grab his gun. Royal simply squealed as she ran past to grab the door and pull it open.

  “Thanks a lot, Bob,” I replied sarcastically before hurrying after her.

  The hot Savannah air hit my face the moment I met her outside. She was giggling as I wrapped my arms around her and picked her up, running back across the street towards the club.

  “I got the goods!” she screeched, raising her arms and letting out a girly battle cry as loud as she could while pumping her fist in the air.

  Dozens of people turned to look at us, but I didn’t give a shit. I was having way too much fun with my girl. When we got back to the other side of the street, I set her down, sliding her body along mine in the process.

  “You did it!” I said, cupping her cheeks.

  She gave me a half smile before sinking her teeth into her plush lips and tilting her head to the side. My eyes zeroed in on her beautiful pout as I ached to close the distance between us.

  “That was fun,” she replied breathlessly before pulling a Snickers out of her bra and tearing open the wrapper. “Want some?” she offered, holding the chocolate in front of my mouth.

  I dropped my hands and took a bite, and her eyes dipped down to watch my lips before she took her own taste. I watched in fascination as her pink tongue came out to swipe the caramel from the corner of her mouth. It was the best goddamn candy bar I’d ever had.

  It was there, with the summer wind whipping her hair, the neon glow of the bar kissing her creamy skin, and the chocolate coating my tongue that I realized this was the version of Royal I loved most. Carefree. Wild. Unburdened by life.

  It was the most expensive candy bar I’d ever bought, but her expression was worth every cent. Because this? This moment right here was fucking priceless.

  Chapter Three

  Royal

  I woke up in my empty bathtub with dried alcohol in my hair, wearing a shirt I didn’t remember changing into. I groaned as I tried to move, attempting to piece together how the fuck I’d ended up here. It only took about three seconds before it all rushed back. The funeral. The car ride. The Salvador Bar. Luis.

  Did I...Did I try to fucking steal chocolate?

  I lifted up the collar of the shirt and glanced down at my boobs. Sure enough, there was melted chocolate on my skin and half of a candy wrapper shoved into my cleavage. Classy.

  I groaned and rested my head back against the tub as I pieced together what had happened last night. Luis had been the perfect distraction. Well, he and the drinks I’d kept downing. Luis hadn’t once told me to slow down or to act like a lady. He hadn’t once judged me or reprimanded me for my decisions. It had been refreshing. Hell, he even encouraged me to fake-rob a gas station. I might’ve been drunk off my ass, but I saw the money he slammed down on the counter. I was just impressed that he’d go to such lengths to keep my mind from spiraling.

  My whole life, my parents had suffocated me, making every choice for me and pecking at my soul like frenzied hens when I tried to do anything on my own. I was twenty-four years old, and yet I still felt like my parents ruled my life. Well, parent now—singular. I kept forgetting that my father was really gone.

  Sometimes it still didn’t feel real. I kept looking over my shoulder like Dad would walk into the house and start smacking Godfrey around or yelling at my mama. I kept expecting to get a phone call that involved his harsh curses, lashing out at me for losing my position as a nurse in the Doctors Without Borders program. I kept waiting for him to call me a shameless hussy who did nothing but ruin the family name every time I was caught partying.

  Dad might have been dead, but the shadow he cast over our lives still remained.

  With great effort, I managed to pull myself out of the bathtub only to have to drop my head back into it and puke my guts up. I guess my stomach would give me the dressing down instead of my father. After I’d vomited up all of my stomach’s contents, I turned the spout on to wash it away, and then pulled my shirt and panties off before climbing right back in. It hadn’t heated up yet, but the cold water felt good on my skin.

  I rested my pounding head against the porcelain, letting the water slowly submerge me. I grabbed the only bar of soap that was within reaching distance and slowly started to wash my skin and hair. Once I was free of alcohol on the inside and the outside, I dragged myself back out, pulling the plug as I went.

  I wrapped myself in a fluffy white towel and walked through the door into my bedroom, blinking with disdain at the bright sunlight. Slamming a hand over my eyes, I walked blindly over to the window, yanking the curtains closed so that my poor head could catch a break from the sun. As soon as it was blissfully dark, I collapsed into bed and stared up at the ceiling with my towel still tucked around me.

  Before I could decide if I wanted to try to go downstairs to get some water and Tylenol or if I wanted to go back to sleep, my door opened, and Mama breezed inside.

  Seeing me basked in darkness, she immediately walked over to my windows and threw open the curtains. “Close those!” I screeched, shoving a pillow over my face.

  She ignored me, of course, and came over, tugging the pillow away from me. “What do you think you’re doing staying out all night with Luis Salvador?”

  The question was flung at me with fierce anger, and I blinked at her intense reaction. “What?”

  “You have got to stop this, Royal,” she said. “We coddled you for far too long. Let you run wild. Your father encouraged you into the nursing program and got you into Doctors Without Borders, but you threw it all away by screwing around with that married doctor!” she said with clear disapproval. “You’re always doing this. Always ruining your future. And now, you’re being seen leaving your own father’s funeral to spend a night drinking with a high school student!” she seethed. “Your father would roll over in his grave.”

  “Well he can’t, because we burned him to ashes,” I shot back.

  Anger flashed over her red-rimmed eyes. “Don’t be crass.”

  I sighed and ran a hand down my face. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  Satisfied, my mother sniffed and nodded tersely. “Your father’s parents are staying here for the next few months.”

  I sat up in bed, clutching the towel against me as the bomb crashed at my feet. “What?”

  Gerald and Gretta Taylor were not the fuzzy and warm grandparents that other people boasted about. Not that this revelation was any sort of surprise, considering who their son had been. Living with them in the same house was going to be brutal.

  Mama nodded and wrung her hands together like she was just as nervous about it as I was. “Yes. Gerald is going to help get a few things settled at the law firm and make sure there’s a smooth transition for the clients. He has to do that here in Savannah.” My granddaddy was a lawyer too, up in Atlanta. Like my father, he also boasted the ability to form a good bribe and get guilty clients to walk. “They’ve also come to settle your trust fund.”

  I stared at her, waiting for her to go on. When she didn�
�t elaborate, I knew that I wasn’t going to like whatever she had to say. “I just had my twenty-fifth birthday. That means I have access to the trust money now.”

  “Yes, well, it seems your granddaddy made some adjustments.”

  I clenched my teeth. Of course he had. Didn’t matter to him how unfair it was that he’d given Godfrey his trust fund when he turned eighteen. I was always treated differently. “What kind of adjustments?”

  “He wasn’t happy to hear about your scandal with the doctor, Royal.”

  Shame immediately soaked into me, like walking unintentionally across the lawn and getting nailed with the sprinklers.

  “I believe he’s decided to make your funds available provided that you return to school and further your education.”

  “I am not going back to school to do yet another program I never wanted to do in the first place.”

  “Don’t raise your voice at me, Royal. I’m giving you a chance to settle into the facts before your granddaddy hits you with them. Dinner is at seven tonight. Don’t be late,” she said, her eyes trailing over my disheveled and damp appearance. “And for the love of all that is holy, look presentable.” She turned and walked out, leaving the curtains open just to spite me and my throbbing skull.

  They were always doing this. Always holding me to a different standard than Godfrey. I loved my brother, but I envied that he could quite literally get away with murder and not suffer the consequences—not that Mama knew her precious baby boy was involved in Dad’s death. Godfrey was always treated like a prized pony around Savannah, and I was merely a consolation prize.

  I loved Godfrey more than anyone, which was why I always felt guilty for being jealous. He was selfless. Protective. He was probably the only person in our fucked up family that actually loved and understood me. But I hated that he got to cash in on privileges I’d never see, all because he was born with a dick.

  To the public, my family always bragged about me and my “accomplishments.” They were always trying to sell the image of a perfect daughter. But behind closed doors, they beat me down, pointing out all my faults, scrutinizing every little thing I did. You couldn’t live your life beneath a magnifying glass without getting burned.

  Grabbing my phone, I smiled when I saw that Luis had changed my background to a photo of us in his car. I was kissing his cheek, my makeup smeared in the corner of my eye and my strap falling off my shoulder. Luis looked devastatingly handsome, that perfect smirk kissing his expression in a way that looked impossibly hot.

  Deciding that if I stared any longer, I’d start drooling, I dialed Godfrey’s number and smiled when his grumpy voice got on the line.

  “What,” he growled.

  “Good morning to you too.” My voice was hoarse, likely from my night of hard liquor. I didn’t even want to know how much I’d drunk.

  “You okay?” Godfrey asked immediately, his voice softening when he realized it was me.

  I heard shuffling on the other end of the line and let out a shaky exhale before replying. Godfrey was rarely home anymore since he spent all his time at Rachel’s house. I wished that I had a place I could escape to like that. Maybe I needed a fuck buddy. “Did you know Granddaddy is coming to stay here? We’re having dinner tonight, and he wants to discuss an amendment he made to my trust fund. I’m starting to think he’s going to hold that money over my head till the day I die,” I complained.

  I knew why they did it. My family wanted to control me, using whatever means they had. They picked my schools, my career, the hospitals that hired me. Any time I tried to show a semblance of independence, they wrapped the puppet strings around my neck and pulled.

  “Fuck. I was hoping he wouldn’t stay,” Godfrey cursed. “You okay?”

  “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Just wanted to make sure the favorite child will be in attendance so they’ll be focused on how amazing you are and ignore me.”

  Godfrey chuckled. We both resented the pressure our family put on him, just for different reasons.

  “You know I hate family dinners, but I guess I can make an appearance for you. Should I wear ripped jeans just to make their eyes twitch?”

  I grinned. “Absolutely. Maybe they’ll focus on that and not on how much of a failure they think I am for the Ecuador thing.”

  Godfrey went quiet on the other line. I hadn’t told him what happened with Aaron Carmichael and me, mostly because I didn’t like to admit it was real. I spent most of my time drinking myself into a stupor to ignore the fact that I was responsible for a woman’s death. Maybe being chained to my family was my punishment. I took her life; my family takes mine.

  “I’m glad you’re home. You know that, right?” he asked quietly. “And you know I won’t judge for whatever happened there, right? If you sleeping with a married man brought you back home, then I’m all for it. Mom and Granddaddy can get fucked.”

  I smiled. Godfrey always knew what to say. “Thanks, little brother. Okay. See you tonight.”

  “Yeah, see ya.”

  Tossing my phone on the mattress, I forced my eyes to look out the bright window and tried not to think. But the room was too quiet, and my thoughts were too loud. I threw the pillow back over my face and steeped in my own worries until I slept.

  * * *

  Mama served me sparkling cider like I was a child.

  I sat to her left like always, wearing a demure blue dress that she’d given me. I’d already been dressed in something else when she’d come into my room and insisted I change. The thing had ruffles and cap sleeves and a hem that reached my shins. I looked like I was getting ready to go Easter egg hunting. If I put my blonde hair in pigtails, it would complete the effect.

  My brother sat across from me, his suit jacket already flung off, his tie loose, and his shirtsleeves rolled up at his arms. He’d already downed his second glass of wine that was served with our dinner, despite the fact that he wasn’t even nineteen yet. Mama let him do whatever he wanted, and usually, I didn’t care. But now that I was home, the stark differences between how she treated her children were too obvious to ignore. Maybe she controlled me as some therapeutic way of coping with how my father controlled her. I wasn’t sure, but I hated it.

  My granddaddy was sitting across from Mama at the other head of the table, droning on and on about how disorganized he found my father’s law firm to be. He was the spitting image of my father, except thirty years older. Bald head and white facial hair, he had the same formidable expression and frown lines. My Gigi sat to his right, either doting on Godfrey or criticizing my mother’s dinner, even though Mama didn’t even cook the damn thing.

  I continued to play with my food, shoving the bits of filet mignon around on my plate and swiping it over the lines of sauce placed there like paint on a canvas.

  “And then we have the issue with your daughter.” My head snapped up at my granddaddy’s words, but he wasn’t even looking at me. “Her wildness is a stain on the Taylor family name.”

  “I’m sitting right here, Granddaddy,” I said with mock sweetness. “You can talk to me.”

  His glacial eyes pinned me to my chair. “Watch your tone, girl,” he snapped as he continued cutting into his meat.

  “I’ve always said Royal gets her brazenness from her mother’s side of the family,” Gigi said, sniffing into her wine glass.

  My mother shot me a look, blaming me for getting another shovelful of criticism tossed her way.

  “Which brings me to the issue at hand,” my granddaddy continued, setting down his fork and knife. “Your mama told you about the trust fund?”

  “She did.”

  Godfrey cocked a blonde eyebrow. “What’s this about?”

  My granddaddy’s eyes slid to my brother. “The terms to Royal’s trust fund have been changed. It was obviously necessary. The girl is disillusioned, irresponsible, and wayward. These new stipulations are necessary to ensure she doesn’t waste away her fortune with nonsense or further ruin the family name,” he said, speaking abo
ut me like I wasn’t right there.

  I pulled at the hem of my dress, taking my frustrations out on the baby blue ruffles that hung across my leg. “What stipulations?” I asked.

  “I’ve pulled some strings, and you’re now employed at St. Joseph’s Hospital here in Savannah. Not many hours a week, but I took what I could get.”

  My eyebrows shot up. He got me a job without asking me first? I really shouldn’t be surprised. My father would’ve done the same thing. It wouldn’t matter to him that I didn’t want to work there. He was only interested in bringing me to heel.

  “In the meantime, you will also go back to school. Clearly, the nursing program didn’t set you to straights, so you’ll be enrolled in law school. Once you graduate, you will come to work for me.”

  My jaw dropped open, and my heart skittered to a stop. Practicing law like he and my father had was the last thing I ever wanted to do. I shook my head adamantly, feeling suddenly like the walls were closing in on me.

  “I don’t want to work at the hospital, and I sure as hell don’t want to study law,” I said, ignoring the way my mother shot me a glare for saying a swear word at the dinner table. “I don’t want to be a lawyer. My mama and dad knew that. Hell, Dad used to say women weren’t cut out for the job.”

  My granddaddy pointed his finger at me. “Your father was right about women being wrong for the job, but with your background in nursing, you’d be good as a hospital malpractice lawyer. I’m looking to expand our services, and that particular field needs the sympathies of a woman’s touch.”

  I felt my face drain of blood as my mind flashed back to Ecuador. I could still hear the steady beats of Mrs. Almendarez’s heart monitor flatlining as she died on the table. They wanted me to defend the evil I was running from.

  “Dad wouldn’t have wanted this,” I spat, hoping that the fresh grief would garner sympathy from my grandparents.

  “Your father coddled you, and look what you’ve become—a floozy who got sacked from a humanitarian organization!” Granddaddy yelled, slamming down his fist against the table and rattling the china.