Crown and Anchor Series: Book 1-4

by Kerri Ann

  ‘Dialing,’ Siri confirms.

  It rings twice before she answers in her usual tone. “Hello, Lover.” Her voice is sweet, erotically so, and laced with sass.

  “Hi, Uncle Buck. How are things?”

  “Fabulous,” she trills. “You still meeting us at Sasis? I have to pick out an outfit for the party, and I’m not going in something old.”

  I laugh coolly as I switch lanes, knowing the truth of it. “Everything is old. You never wear the same thing twice, Catty.”

  Passing a loaded transport reminds me of my family’s tragic downfall. I’m doing my best to avoid the past and move forward, but as each wheel spins in succession, it’s hard. Shaking off the despair, concentrating as I’m counting down each of its eighteen wheels, the last thing a racer needs is to be reminded every time they hit the road that there are inherent dangers on every curve. I need to move past death, but it’s harder when it’s your first. Even my second didn’t make it better.

  “How will I find a respectable, eligible, handsome, broody, and dangerously gregarious bachelor like either of your brothers if I’m wearing a hand-me-down, last season’s designer?” As Cathryne’s voice carries over the speakers, it causes me to break focus on the spinning rubber beside me. Without knowing it, it’s her who’s helping me cope.

  “You’ll be there soon?” Hallette, better known to us as Hallee, faintly asks from the passenger’s seat. Assuming Cathryne picked her up on the way for our shopping excursion, I feel a tad better. I thought it was only going to be Catty, Harlow, and I. Hallette isn’t always available, and I’ll need them all to make it through this unscathed. Shopping for a party is not my least favorite thing to do, but shopping for the party is different. With sponsors and I’m sorrys, I’ll need all girls on deck.

  “Yeah, I’ll be there in twenty. I’m grabbing Harlow and we’ll meet you there,” I say, moving lanes.

  Giggling in unison as they chime off with a ‘see you soon’ I hang up the call. Pulling off the highway, I turn down Harlow’s roadway. Now, when I say her ‘roadway,’ I mean her parents own a secluded street just off the interstate that leads directly to her home and nowhere else. Having money in Malibu is nothing new to us. Owning a road named after your family? Again, nothing new to us. To those without insanely high bank accounts, this would seem massive and dauntingly stuck up. Us, though, we’re a product of our families. We’re used to having it all.

  Being the children of insanely rich parents means we don’t worry for anything. Money is truly no object, which also secludes us. It’s hard to meet people that are down to earth, easy going, and not worrying that they can live up to your standards. Funny thing is, my standards include only a few criteria: loving, funny, able to handle sarcasm, and know what a throttle does. If he can’t ride or isn’t mechanically inclined, then he’s not ticking my boxes. I can’t handle a sissy guy.

  The annual Crown and Anchor fundraiser is the event of the year. It’s funny, because it sounds like the girls haven’t thought of anything else. Me? I’ve had other issues. As I sat vigil with Casper, my life has slowed from its usual tempo of fast and expedient to a snail’s crawl, with a quarter-miler kite behind me. Dragging me backward exponentially, not moving has become my new speed.

  I’ve slowed.

  No, I’m waiting. Waiting for the moment that my life decides it’s okay to go forward again. I’m afraid it’ll be a while more before that happens.

  Pulling up to the end of her winding road, Har’s house sits regally. As the grand gates open silently, I slip the car up to the massive double doors and honk the horn.

  Sweeping out the door in high fashion, in her usual cheery move, she jumps down the stairs with her bag strung over her shoulder and a grin to brighten my sullen day. Harlow must have been waiting at the door for me. Today, the little harlot is wearing a soft red, grapefruit chiffon halter dress, paired with black and saffron cork heels that I would kill for. With a black and gold threaded headband, and an oversized alligator leather hobo bag in saffron slung across her spindly arm, her sweetness exudes. Every ounce of it suits her petite five-four, one hundred and twenty pound soaking wet frame. My five-ten, buck fifty isn’t quite as contained.

  “You’re late,” she snaps, pulling the door shut in one quick move.

  “Careful with that. Casper will kick my ass if you mark his car.” Looping her seatbelt, screwing her face up in disgust at my comment, Harlow laughs me off.

  “You’re in charge, D. I’ll be gentle.” I know she means with Casper, not his car.

  “Nasty Harlot,” I quip out my usual nickname for her.

  “Sassy witch,” she says as she grins gleefully. Pulling out her compact, checking her complexion for probably the ninetieth time today, I pull away from the front. Harlow’s a bit vain, but she’s mine.

  “So, we’re all glad you’re out of purgatory, but where’s your guardian?” Meaning, my big brother, Jamieson. Harlow has always adored Jamieson, and not very quietly, I might add. Harlow’s our resident project worker. Always looking for the guy she can tame, maim, or train, revelling challenges. Whiskey is the wrong boy, and I don’t have the heart to tell her to move on. Jamieson has his sights a new toy. Even at her best, Harlow can’t compare. Even if she’s known all things Jamieson since puberty, just no.

  “Whiskey’s at the hospital with Casper. We still don’t like leaving him alone for long. The fear of him regressing after that last breakdown is exponential.” Even thinking about it makes me a bear. I hate it all. It made me grow up fast and thrust me into the fire of adulthood without a fire extinguisher.

  “What I wouldn’t do to climb that man. I’d love to trace my fingers along every rippled plane of his chest.” Drawing her finger down the dash like she’s imagining James’ body, I cringe, concentrating on the road instead of her needs.

  “I can’t even imagine what you’re thinking. He’s my brother, Harlot. Keep the skank to a minimum.”

  Raising her hands in defeat, a deep and rumbling laugh escapes her like no one but Harlow can do. Her seductive voice makes strong men swoon, and weak mean trip over their words, which is always entertaining.

  “Fine, I’ll be on my best. Promish.”

  Turning into the parking lot of Sasis, thinking about the week from hell I’ve had, I’m reminded time and again of what the near future contains. Harlow may be thinking about a conquest with Whiskey, but I’m constantly dragging my waking mind to my upcoming nuptials with the LA County Court system.

  “You know I’ve been thinking, Doll. The quiet Crown house is too large for you to be alone in. Come stay with me. I mean, you know my parents don’t mind. You’re my family. You should be spending every waking moment with your girls anyway. We’re your only means of mental frivolity. Always have been, always will be, D.”

  Harlow, Cathryne, and Hallette have been my friends since middle school. They’re my sounding boards and my confidants when Casper wasn’t good enough, or girly enough to tell things to. They’re the best partners in crime a girl could ask for, and they take the edge off the craziest parts of my life. Well, what used to be my life. Now I have a scary feeling that my life is venturing into the unknown.

  Pulling into a parking spot, shutting the humming devil down, I try to find my inner happiness, ignoring the truth of it all. Harlow, Catty and Hallette tried to talk me into it as I sat with Casper. While he slept, I told them I’d decide later. It’s now later, and I’m not sure I want to leave the house yet. Yeah, it’s quiet and massive, but if I leave, it’s like I’ve deserted everything that makes me a Crown. Ignoring the question, she leaves me alone to stew.

  Gathering up my handbag and exiting, Harlow does the same, but hopping out of the car with grace and style. She has a way of making every moment seem like a rehearsed part in a movie. It’s natural. Me? My athletic build makes me seem awkward in comparison. She’s the daughter of Christophe Palente, the famous, and very talented sexy man candy that makes women swoon at every turn. His last movie wi
th Charlotte King was Oscar award winning. It easily created babies across the country. It was darkly seductive and orgasmic.

  “Ladies!” Hallette screeches out joyously with her arms wide and a smile to match. “I’m so ready for the party of the year. I think this one I’ll find the replacement for my tool.”

  Turning to the store valet, Harlow hands him her handbag, double kissing Cathryne’s cheeks.

  “Sweetie. There’s no replacement, only additions. No man can possibly stand up to my standards.” With her arms already full of choices for the fundraiser festivities, Cathryne greets us with her usual gravelly voice, which is scratchy and soulful, not unlike Harlow’s. Hallette’s adorably cute voice is sweet, soft, and mesmerizing. My friends are all so different from each other, which makes them amazeballs.

  Where Harlow is petite, dark-haired, and wispy, Cathryne is big boned, tall like myself at five-eleven, and a natural platinum blonde. Hallette, the mocha princess at six-two, is a combo of us all. Her tits and ass put us in a different category. Her caramel eyes, tight to her head like Halle Berry’s hairdo, and long lithe legs, makes her dangerously beautiful. She’s humbly incorrect in thinking she’s the Frog Prince to our Princess Bride. To boot, Hallette is the soul of our party. When I need to jump out of a funk, she’s the one I call. When I need a laugh without fail, it’s Harlow. With her filter-free mind, you’ll always get the truth.

  Handing the valet my bag and diving straight into the foray, the store owner points out our stacks of clothing. We’ve been coming to Sasis for years, so each of us already have selections set aside. They know our sizes, our likes, our styles, and they know that money’s no object when it comes to finding the consummate outfit for any occasion like this.

  The party is less than twenty-four hours away, and with all the shit I’ve dealt with, I’ve put off thinking about it. Even though Wyatt’s awake and on the mend, I’ll be expected as the sole Crown Racing family member to show. I’ll be fawned over, questioned considerably about his physical status, and I’ll have to hear ‘I’m sorry’ more than I care to mention. I’ve done this over the years at various functions, both loving and hating it in equal measure. I’ll have to be cordial, even if I believe hate will be tipping the scales.

  Hallette has already dove off into the private rooms with Harlow trailing right behind her. Cathryne stands along one of the side walls, eyeing me, watching me intently.

  “What are you thinking, Catty?” I quietly ask, thumbing some nondescript clothing on the rack.

  She narrows her eyes. “What aren’t you telling me, China?”

  “Nothing,” I lie.

  “I call bullshit, CD.”

  God, she knows me too well. Like a dog with a bone, she’ll never give in until I tell her what’s going on.

  Pursing my lips, huffing slightly, I pull a frail looking number off the rack, avoiding direct eye contact. Touching the material, training my gaze down even further, I feel her heated, beady little eyes watching my every move.

  “China Doll.” Accentuating each syllable with her hands on her hips, Cathryne is quietly commanding me. Cathryne’s the one I can’t pull anything over on, and we both know it.

  Resigning to her whim, blowing out a haughty breath, I answer. “It’s just…when will it stop? My scales have to be tipping back to good, don’t they?”

  Placing her hand on my shoulder, she turns me. I know I’m about to fall apart. As tears threaten to spill forth, I try to hold my shit together. If there’s no stopping me now, what will keep me from collapsing in public tomorrow night?

  “China Doll.” Taking the clothes from my hands, she hands them over her shoulder to an attendant before drawing all my attention to her. “Always so fragile, aren’t we, lover?” Producing the fakest smile I can muster, the tears threaten further. “We’ll be by your side all night long. No one will harm our Doll, I promise. They’d have to get past Har anyway. None are that fearless.”.

  CHINA

  After dress shopping yesterday, the girls and I spent the night drinking and being overall idiots at Harlow’s. It was necessary to release some tension, and I’m glad they made me do it. I wanted to go back to the hospital, but they insisted that Jamieson could handle it all. This morning, feeling guilty, I headed back to the hospital to see my brother and Circe. Being grilled by Wyatt, though, was the last thing I wanted. Thanks to Jamieson, it seems he had another thought in mind when he blurted out my date with the LA County Court tomorrow. I wanted to hide it from Casper indefinitely. Honestly, I was trying to limit his stress.

  “Arrested! Come on, Doll, that’s—”

  “What? Childish?” I blurt out, then think better of losing my shit. “Is that what you were going to say, Cas? It’s not like your past isn’t shady.” I can see the steam rising from his ears, but I’m not about to take this shit from him, regardless of his condition.

  Wyatt’s still in bed with wires and tubes running everywhere. Circe is in her bed right beside him, looking just as frail and broken as him, but smiling her solidarity. His breathing is almost normal. The shunts have been removed, and he’s been weaned off the majority of the drugs now, except those to help with his mania. I know this may not be the best timing, but I’m sick of being the underage burden in our family.

  Jamieson swore he’d keep it a secret as we agreed Casper has been dealing with enough. With Dad’s death, which is still fresh in our minds, his wreck, Mother’s death, and the almost death of himself and his girlfriend, it’s been hard. Not to mention, his mental health. The last thing I want to be responsible for is regressing that progression.

  With Jamieson glaring at me and growling, Wyatt pipes up. “Doll, you have everything at your disposal to race anytime you want. Why would you—”

  “Right, and I’m sure you and Whiskey are both the poster children for good behavior. Just because I have a track at home doesn’t mean I don’t need a release. Don’t attack me when your kettle’s burnt fucking black, boys.” Turning away from them before I lose it further, grabbing the water jug and pouring myself a glass of ice water, I try to relax myself. I’m riled and pissed they want to trounce on me.

  “You’re totally right, Doll. We’re not the best people to tell you to curb your enthusiasm in public. But that was before. We had parents to cover it up, contain it, and keep our asses out of trouble. Now it’s just us. Right now, with this, you just put yourself in the limelight with the worst possible timing. I can’t be there to help you.” Wyatt’s tone has dropped considerably from fuming mad to partially pissed. I’m grateful, but still annoyed.

  “I hate this is putting pressure on both of you, but it’s mine to deal with,” I tell them, finishing off the glass. Casper’s sullen expression shows how guilty he feels about this. I’ve been his to protect and coddle; I always have been. But he’s in no shape to worry about anything but his own health, as he still looks so underweight and frail.

  “You’re still not dealing with any of this alone, Doll. We’ll help each other. That’s what family’s for.” Holding my gaze, then turning to Casper, Whiskey leaves no room for argument. “Look, I’ll get Merconda on this and we’ll get you sorted. You won’t be going to that court appearance without a lawyer and me.”

  “Whiskey, I’m still pissed you didn’t get me or the lawyers involved earlier. Why’d you keep this from me? I’m in the hospital, not in the morgue—”

  “Yeah, and you’ve been resting pretty close to that line. You’ve been half-alive, half-dead, heart stopping—to stay the least—for months now. It’s been a shitshow, brother.” James’ gruffness is back in full force, and I’m not bearing the brunt of it, Wyatt is.

  Annoyed and edgy, Wyatt clips off with fight in him. “I’m not dead, Jamieson. I don’t intend for that to happen anytime soon.”

  Great. Why do men have to pull macho shit like it’s a PMS card?

  “Really, not the time, guys.” Placing the cup on the counter and starting toward the door, I give them both a scathing glare. At
least I hope it looks like that because that’s what they both deserve. “Look, I need to get myself sorted for the C&A fundraiser, so if either of you need me, I’ll be at the house. I promise to be on my best behavior.”

  “You’re going to the C&A tonight? Don’t you think it’s better to stay away from public affairs?”

  Now I’m miffed. “Really? It’s our fundraiser, our show, and our family affair. You want me to stay away?”

  “Maybe tonight’s not really the best time for you to go out. I don’t want to seem indifferent to the issues you’ll deal with but yeah, this is just going to make it worse, Doll.”

  Now I’m pissed. Turning back, my hackles are up. “No, I’m going, and I’m sorry if you don’t feel the timing is good. I won’t be alone, Cas. I’ll have the girls with me, and besides, more questions would be asked if none of us showed up, right?”

  “Then I’ll go,” Jamieson pipes up. Shocking me and Wyatt, James barks it out like a command. It’s a cross between pissed, scared, angry, and downright annoyed. He’s not the public face of Crown Racing, thanks to our parents. Security will ask him for ID, and even then, they won’t believe it.

  “Really? You?” I’m probably adding fuel to the fire, but fuck it. “You’ve been thrust back here only because of death, and the last place you want to be is where there’s more sand than snow. Don’t act like you want to be there—”

  “I don’t, Doll, and I won’t act like I do.” He steps closer to me. “But, I won’t let you put yourself into situations you don’t need to be in right now. End of conversation.”

  “You’re not the boss of me, Jamieson Harris Crown.” I look him straight in his eyes, leaving no room for argument. There’s no way I’m backing down on this.

  Grumbling, but saying nothing more, Wyatt is about to chime in when I cut him off too. “Neither are you, Wyatt. I won’t be held back from what I want to do because you’re afraid of more crap.” So much for not alienating family today. I might as well keep going.