The Society

by Michelle Brown

  “Belle loved you, Mr. Jones. Always. She was worried what it would mean once this came out, and here we are…”

  He smiled and I finally took off my mask. “I know she did, and yet, now she is done with everything. Did you know she arranged to get her degree sent to her? She can finish it online. Lied about some exchange thing. The school believed her after she assured them I’d pay the tuition throughout the rest of the year.”

  My heart thudded. She’d been scheming while I hadn’t known it. “She can pay it, you know? By herself, I mean…”

  He smirked. “She won’t have to. I will not withdraw the money I paid so far. She didn’t pick this life, so the best I can do for her is to help her finish this off.”

  I swallowed. “How did a decent man like you end up among the rotten Society of Silvercrest?”

  This time when he smiled it looked positively malicious. “Just because I love and support my step-daughter doesn’t mean I don’t belong here, Mister Kipleton. Never forget that.”

  With that he left and I pulled out my phone, but Belle’s line went straight to voicemail.

  I shouldn’t be surprised.

  Hurrying outside, I figured she’d pack her things at home. Corey had clearly given her the space, and therefore I had a good chance to find her there.

  Or so I hoped, because the last thing I wanted to do was hunting her across the country just to beg for everything I had thought within reach.

  Belle

  I stepped out of the house I’d lived in most of my life and smiled. I wore jeans, a simple tee and a black leather jacket, nothing left of my bohemian style, and shouldered my back.

  I was leaving this life behind, and with it the lies and the deceit.

  I had done what I needed to do in order to get out, and now I was ready to move on. I’d finish Silvercrest Prep because it would get me into the best colleges, but that was all I was going to take with me.

  In front of the gates a car stood, waiting, and I smiled to myself as I opened the passenger door and slipped in.

  In the dark I couldn’t see much of the man in the driver’s seat, but when he held out a passport to me, I took it and smiled. “It was that easy, huh?” I asked.

  He chuckled, the sound deep. “It was that easy with the right amount of money. If you take that and use it, you’ll be free of the family name you carried for so long, and of your life.”

  I nodded, brushing my thumb across the cover of it before opening it. I vaguely saw the outline of my picture on the passport, and could barely read the name printed there, but I knew it anyway, because I’d picked it: Anabelle Jacky Dixon.

  For a long moment I stared at the dark letters, the light of the dash the only thing illuminating the inside of the dark car.

  Once I’d realized Kip had to have someone helping him, I’d snooped in his phone. It had been easy using his fingerprint when he was sleeping like the dead, because he’d stayed over just to annoy my mother.

  I’d found a name in his phone’s list that had caused my heart to pause and I knew.

  It all had made sense then, and I’d done the only thing I could think of and had called that number.

  My dad had answered almost immediately, as if he worried Kip could report something bad, but then he’d been shocked to find a woman on the phone.

  And he’d told me everything.

  I’d repaid the favor by telling him I wanted to get out.

  And here we were.

  “You sure you don’t want Kip to know where you are?”

  I smiled to myself, closing the passport. “He is a great person, no doubt, but I met him as a liar, a cheater, and a person who was ready to ruin more than one person’s life.”

  “So was I. Although I knew I was going to swoop in and save you from whatever was going to come.”

  I touched his arm, feeling weirdly familiar with him even though I hadn’t seen him in almost ten years. “You are my father, and while I despise the games the high society always plays nothing will ever change that. Kip is…” My heart thudded for a moment because I wished it was different. “…meant to stay in my past. Clean slate and all. I wouldn’t need a new name if I was taking my past along anyway…”

  He sighed. “He could get a new name, too.”

  I shrugged, appreciating the offer, but not wanting that. “You saw the pictures. You were there. I cannot forget that. Ever. I couldn’t be happy with him.” And that I knew to be a fact, no matter how much I wished it would be different.

  “So, Canada, huh?” Dad changed the topic and I nodded.

  “Canada. Far away, cold and fresh in every way.”

  He nodded, stalling for another moment, then he reached behind him and pulled something else out that he handed me. “I bought the tickets, Miss Dixon, and rented you a small apartment. You’ll be able to pay the rent for a little while.”

  I placed my papers in my lap and folded my hands over them. “Will you be okay?”

  He cocked his head. “Will you be?”

  I didn’t know that, but I knew that a new life was what I needed to find that out.

  And who knew, maybe life would throw Kip in my way again.

  After all, third time’s a charm, right?

  Acknowledgments

  This is my first careful venture into writing something that is not my usual style. Thank you to Michelle Brown and all the guys in this anthology with me.

  You helped me grow and get over myself. (A little at least…) I cannot tell you enough how much I appreciate the faith you have in me. Thank you.

  Aimie and Lina, you two saved my ass.

  Again. Thank you. I love you guys!

  My readers… Thank you so much. Onto the next one. ;-)

  To my new readers: Thank you and… Please remember, usually I’m writing things that aren’t like this. xD

  xoxo

  Sam

  About Sam Destiny

  Once upon a time, there was a young girl with her head full of dreams and her heart full of stories. Her parents, though not a unit, always supported her and told her more stories, encouraging her to become what she wanted to be. The problem was, young Sam didn't know what she wanted to be, so after getting her A-levels she started studying Computer Science and Media. After not even one year she realized it wasn't what her heart wanted, and so she stopped, staying home and trying to find her purpose in life. Through some detours, she landed an internship and eventually an apprenticeship in a company that sells cell phones. Not a dream career, but hey. Today she's doing an accounting job from nine-to-five, which mainly consists of daydreaming and scribbling notes wherever she can.

  All through that time little Sam never once lost the stories in her heart, writing a few little of them here and there, writing for and with her best friend, who always told her to take that last step.

  Only when a certain twin-couple entered her mind, bothering her with ideas and talking to her nonstop did she start to write down their story—getting as far as thinking she could finish it. Through the help of some author friends, and the encouragement of earlier mentioned best friend, little Sam, now not so little anymore and in her twenty-seventh year, decided to try her luck as an Indie author. She finished the story of the first twin, Jaden, and realized she couldn't ever stop.

  So, it really is only after five that the real Sam comes out. The one that hungers for love, romance, some blood, a good story, and, at the end of the day, a nice hot cup of Chai Tea Latte.

  And if the boys are still talking to her, she'll write happily ever after.

  Books By Sam Destiny

  Gun Shot Heart

  Call Me Michigan

  AJ’s Salvation

  Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Sam-Destiny/e/B00PXI4JZG

  Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/sam-destiny

  Reader group: Destiny's Morningstars

  For all the ‘good girls’,

  don’t be afraid to create a little chaos.

  “I hate men who are af
raid of women's strength.” - Anaïs Nin

  Chapter One

  Elena

  Attending Silvercrest Prep is like living in a fishbowl, everyone knows every dirty little secret about everyone else, or at least they think they do. If they knew even a quarter of the things The Society hid, they wouldn’t look at us in the same way ever again. Wealth is what makes this town run, and if you have it, you’re one of us. You’re protected, no matter the cost, no matter what depraved, disgusting thing you did. But make no mistake, you are also a pawn, a body to be bartered and traded with, like players on a baseball team. Everyone is seeking to progress, to move further up the ladder or secure family ties. If they told you it was like a rope around your neck, you wouldn’t think it was so wonderful, but building an empire sounds much sweeter rolling off the tongue, doesn’t it?

  That’s what Tristan Radcliffe is, the rope cutting into my flesh, burning my skin as it is pulled tighter and tighter. I hate him for it.

  “Come on, we’re going to be late for class if we don’t go now,” Serena, my best friend, says as she tugs on the sleeve of my blouse. We’d left campus to grab some lunch at a nearby coffee shop, and just as we are about to leave, I notice him standing in the doorway. Blocking our exit.

  I sigh, grabbing my bag. I know that in this tiny town there is no avoiding him, but lately, he’s like my shadow. I clench my jaw; today, he’s got company in the form of Blythe Tanner, the daughter of a bookshop owner. She’s nothing, her parents don’t warrant her a second glance, but Tristan likes to try and get under my skin. His arm is draped over her shoulder, while she looks up at him lovingly. Why couldn’t she be richer? From a more influential family? They’d be perfect together. Why couldn’t it be her instead?

  His friends shout across to them as they secure a table, and that’s when he looks up and his eyes lock with mine. The corner of his mouth begins to drag up slowly into a smirk as I clench my fist and exhale slowly. Straightening, I follow Serena and attempt to move past him and Blythe. As we get closer, I can smell the fact that he’s high, and I can’t stop the way my lip curls. He’s the son of Malcom Radcliffe, a business tycoon and from one of the oldest families in Silvercrest, he should know better than to ditch school and get stoned with his cronies.

  As I pass, my shoulder brushing against his because there’s no space, he reaches out and grabs my wrist. Blythe looks at us for a moment, confused before Tristan gives her a nod, and she makes her way over to where the others are waiting. Watching. I bet it stings, being dismissed like the help, but that’s what it’s like around here. If you don’t have millions in the bank, you’re expendable.

  “Let go,” I say, my voice low. Whenever I’m around Tristan, I’m careful to keep my face neutral and my voice steady. I’m the daughter of the mayor. I can’t afford to make a scene. I need to behave.

  His touch is like fire on my skin as his strong fingers stay firmly where they are, digging into my flesh.

  “Or what?” His voice is calm, but the look in his dark eyes is dangerous. He looks like a wolf, cornering his prey, and I refuse to lay down and be served up to him on a platter like a beautiful braised lamb shank. He leans down, his face inches from mine as I feel his warm breath on my cheeks. There’s no denying that he’s handsome, with his prominent cheekbones, sharp jawline, and dark hair that’s a little on the long side for my taste, but that doesn’t mean I want him invading my space.

  “You’re high,” I sneer, trying to push him away with my shoulder. “Get your shit together, Tristan, and get out of my way. I don’t have time for this.”

  He doesn’t move away, instead he leans further forward. With his lips brushing against my ear, he whispers, “In a few weeks, all your time will be mine, Lena, so enjoy your freedom while you can.”

  My parents are the only one who call me Lena, and they haven’t done that in a long time. I hate that Tristan has been embedded in my life since we were children, it means he knows how to push my buttons.

  Pulling away, I scowl at him as I hiss, “Fucking Douchbag.”

  Grinning, he teases, “Fucking Princess.”

  We both watch each other carefully, waiting for god knows what. Minutes pass by with Tristan refusing to let go and me unable to look away.

  “Elena,” Serena calls softly, breaking the spell. I’d forgotten that she was still there. That they all were.

  “Until next time,” Tristan says softly, before walking over to where Blythe is shooting daggers my way. Blythe is nothing but a blip in his life, she just doesn’t know it yet.

  We climb into Serena’s Mini Cooper without saying anything. It isn’t until we pull up to the school that she gives me a hard look. “What was that?”

  I shrug and grab my planner out of my bag. “Nothing.”

  Serena’s family was new money, but they weren’t in The Society just yet. I liked that about her though, it meant I could have a normal friendship without the ties attached even if she could be a little judgemental sometimes. However, it also meant she was oblivious to how things really worked around here.

  Serena looks like her eyes are about to pop out of her head. “Tristan Radcliffe grabbing you and giving you ‘fuck-me vibes’ isn’t nothing. I thought you hated him?”

  I hate him because he’s my future.

  Because I have no choice.

  Because this is my life.

  “I do,” I reply calmly as I look at my schedule. I have some things I need to organize for the pep rally with the rest of the cheerleading squad, and I also need to discuss something about the debate club trip with Principal Anderson. If I didn’t get this done by the end of the day, it would delay everything else.

  I didn’t want to be a cheerleader, but my mother had been the captain of the squad when she attended Silvercrest. I also hadn’t wanted to be class president, but my father insisted that it would look good on my college applications.

  “I thought he only bothered with the stoners, why’s he trying to hit on you now?” Serena muses as we get out of the car and start walking into Silvercrest Prep.

  “That wasn’t hitting on me.” He was trying to intimidate me. To break me before we’d even made it to the church. He was trying to put me in my place.

  Chapter Two

  Tristan

  “Tristan, are you listening?” a soft voice asks, and I look across the sofa to see Blythe watching me. Her blue eyes are sad, because I’ve drifted away again, and I haven’t been listening to a word she’s said. I should feel bad, but I don’t. Instead, I find myself wishing that her eyes weren’t blue but green. Like Elena’s.

  “What day is it?” I say abruptly, standing and grabbing my jacket. We’d been getting high in my pool house, but there was somewhere else I wanted to be—someone else I wanted to be with.

  “It’s still Friday. Why? Where are you going? We need to talk about this,” she pleads as I move closer to the door.

  No, we didn’t. She was going to whine about why I wasn’t having sex with her anymore. I’d tried telling her that I just wanted to be friends and that it was over between us, but it wasn’t enough.

  “Let yourself out when you’re done, I need to be somewhere,” I call over my shoulder as I leave and make my way into town. My father was rarely here, so no one other than Blythe would miss me tonight.

  Every Friday night, Elena comes down to the dance studios in town and stays there until it's time to lock up. I first saw her a couple of months ago, by accident when I was leaving Blythe’s family's bookshop. I followed her because it was dark, and I was curious, but since then it’s become somewhat of an addiction.

  I actually bought an apartment in the building opposite, dipping into the trust fund my mother left me when she died so that I could watch through the window as Elena unleashed everything she kept bottled up. Every plié, every pirouette was dripping in anger. With each sweep of her elegant arms, she regained her control and her composure but not before she lost it. She was completely absorbed in the music, in her em
otions, and it was hypnotic. She was the perfect person on paper, beautiful, smart, poised, class president, cheerleading captain, on the debate team—everything the daughter of the mayor should be. But in reality, she was forcing herself to be something she wasn’t. She was desperate to lose control, to give into the dark side, but she couldn’t. For that, I hated Randolph Montgomery, he made her into a pretty little doll, a puppet dancing for him. I grin to myself, opening a can of beer as I watch her move into an arabesque position, with her leg in a straight line behind her. I was going to cut those pretty little strings soon enough, and then she’d be free.

  She dances for hours, switching between ballet, street, and contemporary. Her body is slick with sweat and clearly exhausted, but her facade is back firmly in place as she closes up and locks the door. I can’t make myself leave. Instead, I wait, pulling on my jacket, tugging the hood up, and following her home in the darkness. I hate that she walks home alone, where is her overbearing daddy now when it’s almost one a.m.? I stay on her tail until she buzzes herself into the gate at her mansion and disappears behind the stone walls.

  This town is fucked up in its priorities, and that’s why I refuse to be a good little boy for my father. It doesn’t matter if I fuck it up, I can just throw money at it and the problem goes away, so where is the incentive to work hard like Elena? Once I get home, I’m not ready to sleep, even though it's almost two a.m. instead I head up to the attic rooms.

  My mother died when I was seven, leaving me behind with a man who couldn’t stand the sight of me. Kathleen Radcliffe had been an artist, painting, sculpting, and taking photos of anything that made her smile, and some would say that I’ve inherited her talent. I think that’s bullshit because art is hard work. It’s bleeding onto the paper, imbuing it with everything you have, and then hating it all anyway. It’s something I’ve been practising since I was a child, and whenever I see Lena dance, I want to paint.