Crown and Anchor Series: Book 1-4

by Kerri Ann

  Cathryne, Hallette, and Harlow dressed in their best innocent outfits. Each wanted to present the sweet girl next door, but we stick out like sore thumbs.

  Hallette is in a white fan dress with blush pumps. Cathryne’s in a vintage Valentina cream white pant suit. Harlow? Oh, but Harlow. She is something altogether different. She looks like a schoolgirl gone bad. With her hair pinned to her head, wisps falling low around her face, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and a soft billowing blue sundress, each and every dirty catcall was directed at her, and she relished the attention. I dressed down wearing black pumps and black leather leggings, paired with a soft crepe pink halter and my favorite white leather cuff Hermes watch.

  Just before leaving the house, I talked to Wyatt on the phone, and in his bossy big brother way, he attempted to coach me. He told me what to say, what not to say, what to answer yes sir, no sir to, and even if I feel that an explanation is in order, to somehow keep my mouth shut. Personally, I think it’s more to keep the image of Crown Industries squeaky clean. Good luck with that. I’ve never been one to keep my opinion to myself, or found to be backing down from something I felt I was right about. This should be a good fight.

  And as they said they’d do, my brothers got in touch with our lawyer to cover my ass, yet again. Even though I didn’t want it, they insisted it would be an asset to have one of the she hounds help me. Merconda Smith, our lawyer, got ahold of me yesterday, somewhere in the middle of that bottle of red. She’d told me to expect her to contend the charges on my behalf.

  Do I think she can get me off? Yep. But the real question is, do I want her to? It’s not that I’m ungrateful for the chance to stay out of an ugly jumpsuit, but I kind of think this is one of those turning points in my life. If I’m always getting out of situations with a bit of money and a lawyer, then have I learned a lesson?

  Do I need to learn the consequences to my actions? I’m not sure, but sometimes I think I’ve had too much handed to me without dealing with the repercussions of those choices. This is not the first arrest, or the first infraction I’ve had. It’s just the first time I’ve been in the position where I can’t get out of it.

  Awaiting my turn to enter the courthouse for the arraignment, the flurry of activity has been interesting, to say the least. Hallette and Harlow have started a game with points based on attire, hair (or lack of) teeth (or lack of), and if you have to guess their gender.

  “Definitely fifteen points for that one,” Hallee says as she looks at a person down the hall from us. “He has an Alabama dinner jacket, a lovely mullet, and there’s at least two teeth missing in the front. Solid fifteen.” Looking down at the person in question, I find myself unable to disagree after hearing their point marking scale. Five points for each component, and if there’s over four, then it jumps to twenty-five. So far, Hallee is the clear front-runner. I’ve tried to keep out of it on principle alone, but it’s hilarious watching their banter.

  We’re not known for frequenting places where the dollar figure that someone makes is under the poverty line. To them, it’s an attraction of sorts. I’ve been busy checking emails, hanging back, thinking about what to say when my time comes, and trying to find a bit of calm before things get out of hand.

  I had hoped that Jamieson would’ve at least texted me with an excuse for not showing up, but no such luck. The consummate asshole shines through. He’s not here to help, to guide, or give me a shoulder to punch. Truly, I can only depend on my girls and myself. No one will be coming to my rescue. Maybe it’s better this way. Deep down, I kind of hope that Merconda doesn’t show either.

  Cathryne left us a while ago to check the parking meters, and to check on the cars. She’s worried someone might be ballsy enough to lift her Mercedes in a parking lot full of police and varied security personnel. Seeing her walk back in, she seems distressed.

  “Did someone key your car, lover?” I slowly lose my kidding side as fear flies off her in waves. “What’s wrong, Cathryne?”

  Pulling a folded newspaper out of her Hobo bag, she hands it to me. “I’m so, so, so sorry, sweetie.” Handing me the Times, I flip it open. I see the front page with a full color picture of me with Officer Mason from last night. It looks like he’s slicking his sticky hands up my dress.

  “What the hell!” I yell out so loud, the hallway full of patrons all turn my way. “Sorry,” I say, hoping to appease their stares. As they turn back to their own lives, I ask again. “What the hell, Catty? Why can’t I catch a break?” Being quieter this time, I flip the page to read the excerpt of what Jack Jones thought he’d seen.

  Who is this young man that gained the attention of Doll Crown? How did the two meet? Is this a chance stroke of serendipity by just desserts? I must admit, she seems totally enamored by the gallantries of this young and virile gentleman, with his chivalrous actions.

  Really flouncing the big words there, Jack.

  Peeking over my shoulder, Hallette and Harlow look at the page.

  “Sorry, lover,” Harlow mumbles.

  “It’s all total bullshit. What the fuck do I have to do to get out from under it?”

  Cringing, Cathryne taps the paper. “Not the worst part, D. Flip to page twelve, it gets stunningly better.”

  “If it’s that bad, why show her, Cat?” Smacking Cathryne on the shoulder, Hallette shakes her head.

  “She needs to know what she’s walking into, babe.”

  “I can’t possibly see how it could be worse.” Flipping fast through the pages, I stop where Cathryne taps. There, on the front page of the sports section is a full write up about my impending incarceration.

  From the sudden loss of its head Indy car racer, King Crown, and with the incapacitated glory hound and top racing stardust son, Casper Crown, lying in the hospital for the past few months, recovering from a car wreck, there have been varied shortcomings in the IHRA, TT, and motocross circuits from Crown Industries. If it wasn’t bad enough that Crown Industries has repeatedly contended with plummeting race standings this season, it now seems that they may have to deal with the clear possibility that the youngest Crown, China, may be facing at the least community services, if not jail time for unsanctioned racing in public.

  The spokesman from IHRA has noted that if the street racing charges stick, and she is indeed incarcerated or formally reprimanded by the LA County Court system, then it seems China Crown could see her racing license suspended or revoked. Her court appointment is set for later this week, and we’ll keep you informed regarding the finality of the pending charges.

  How do I deal with this? What if it’s me that kills my parents’ dream? I don’t know what more I can do to turn the tides.

  “Has Wyatt seen this?” Turning toward Cathryne, I see the same fear in her eyes that I’m sure reflects back from mine. “Was it him who told you about this? Or was it Jamieson?” She shakes her head, pursing her lips, not saying a word.

  “Shit.” Tossing the newsprint all over the floor, I rush down the hall toward the closest ladies room, the cool water calling my name.

  Charging into the sparse, unsanitary, and dank smelling toilet area, I almost want to run right back out before I throw up. Touching nothing but the taps, I grab some paper towels and run them under the water. Wringing them free of drips, I lay them across the back of my neck. I need calm. At this rate, there’s a good chance my morning breakfast will be a lovely addition to the detritus across the counter.

  “Lover?” I hear Hallette say as she pushes the creaking door open.

  “Yeah.” Even to me, my voice sounds deflated. Looking to comfort me, she reaches out and strokes my back. “Babe, we’re all here for you. We’ll stand with you. Well, not really with you. I look like shit in orange. It only suits people in movies and TV.”

  I can’t help it, I laugh. She has a way of always making me laugh even with her somber and serious tone. Looking in the mirror at her, I can’t help but feel a bit lighter as she’s wearing the widest grin imaginable.

  “Don’t
let them get to you,” she says, turning me to face her. “This is something you’ve dealt with your whole life. You know the spotlight’s a bitch, lover, and we all get it. Buck the hell up, fucker. It ain’t about to get any better. Plus, some little tabloid bullshit isn’t about to stop you, right?”

  “Hallee, it’s not just a tabloid. It’s the fucking Times! The. Fucking. Times!” Stomping over to the bin, balling up the sopping paper, I toss it in. “It isn’t some paparazzi camped out on my camper at a race, it’s the big show boys. I don’t think Cas or Whiskey have ever fucked-up this good.”

  “I’m sure they have. Your parents were just fucking geniuses on how to twist a story and make it seem insignificant. If they were here—”

  “That’s the point Hal, they’re not. They can’t hold my hand to tell me I’m okay, and that everything will be fine because they’re dead. Dad’s buried, casket done, cried over his corpse, laid the flowers dead. Mom, it’s yet to happen, but I’m alone without them…” Leaning on the cleanest wall I can find, I voice it. “Hallee, I’m fucking scared.”

  Feeling the first tear hit my cheek, its partners fall quickly in step behind. Once more, I can’t stop them, and there’s no way to shut them down. Again, I find myself falling apart.

  Hearing Hallette screaming for the girls as I fall to the floor, the jump in and grab me. I slowly watch as everything around me fades out like a photographic vignette.

  RISEN

  I have no reason to be here, or that’s what I kept telling myself as I drove to the courthouse.

  The chief put me on suspension pending a hearing. After I gave Trev a heads-up that he was going to be partnered with fucking Riggs or some other dickwad for the foreseeable future, I tidied up my locker and left. I had no intentions of going anywhere near China Crown, the courthouse, or this section of town, but low and behold, here I am.

  Parked in the lot, staring at two of the most expensive Mercedes’ on the planet in the spaces directly across from mine, I keep asking myself, why am I here?

  Fuck if I know, but I’m here.

  It’s just after ten, and a little while ago, I saw one of her friends. The straight-laced, no-shit one came out to check the cars. Having taken a call, she then produced a massive hissy fit in the middle of the lot. Stomping around, tossing her hair, she swung a newspaper around wildly. I can’t imagine why. Then, just as quickly as she started, she stopped. Straightening out her outfit, she walked casually back inside, as if nothing were amiss.

  Fucking nut.

  Shit, look who’s talking, Risen? You’re sitting in a sweltering hot car, watching her lose her shit and contemplating going inside to the arraignment. The arraignment I devised by arresting her friend.

  Nope, nothing fucked-up about that at all.

  After ten minutes of thinking it through, I made the decision that dying in my car from heat exhaustion was not a plausible cause of death. So I locked up and started inside.

  Being in uniform, I’d normally receive stares from the truly evil lowlifes that I’d drop off here, smiles from the hookers, and the odd ‘hey I remember you’ from the drunk and disorderly candidates. Today, though, in jeans, a black tee, and my favorite special edition black LA Lakers cap, I’m inconspicuous. Today, I’m just another asshole wandering the halls.

  Walking by the schedule board, I find what venue China is expected in. Seeing I’m at hall three, it’ll be a bit of a walk to nine. It’s funny, really. Here I am, walking into the courthouse after another fiasco to check on the girl who broke down in my arms after a deadly dessert incident. An incident of which we both ended up on the front page of the most influential paper in the city. And like a moron, I’m here checking to make sure she’s all right.

  Realizing I’ve almost wandered past hall eight, I take a minute to decide if I should do a U-turn or continue on. I’m sure they can add charges for stalking so we can share a holding cell. Not that I think that what I’m doing is stalking, but I sure as shit feel like a fucking stalker as I walk aimlessly toward her. She’s a magnet, and I’m the metal filings flying across the floor. I’m speeding toward her without any way to stop myself.

  Why am I drawn to her? Why is it that I’m screwing up my life over China Crown?

  “What the hell am I doing?” I mutter. Shaking my head, I turn to leave, when a wailing scream rings out. The cop in me turns and listens for the location, watching the dynamics of the surroundings. Was there gunshot? Was it just a laugh, or someone joyous?

  Moving down the hall as quickly as I can, I turn the corner and find one of the ladies from last night. The expression of panic lights the tiny little spitfire’s face as she jogs back into the bathroom with the other friends in tow. Approaching them, the one that just broke down in the parking lot, rushes past. Peeking in, I see China sprawled out on the dirty floor. Once again, China’s prone. I find myself caring why.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “Why does it matter, Officer.” The Amazonian quips off sardonically.

  Taking in the state of China, I note once more that she’s a mess. Her sobs are broken and sporadic, and her her hair sticks to her wet face. Her pristine pink tank is wrinkled, tangling around her body. The black pants are dingy, and her heels are scuffed.

  When I don’t answer, but push closer to her, the tiny friend pushes to stand in-between China and I. Moving in closer, I push past, dropping to my knees.

  Running a knuckle across her cheek, I speak quietly. “We having another bad day, princess?” I ask, not expecting an answer.

  “We don’t need your help, Officer. Isn’t it bad enough we’re here because of you?” the dark goddess chirps.

  True. But I did my job, and I’ve had about enough of everyone telling me what to do or not to do.

  “Look, I’m not the cause of this. And even though I may have been the final straw, there’s a whole lot more going on. China’s collapsed twice in as many days, and I’m sure it’s not new.” I look over to her friend, the spitfire, seeing that no, this is not new. “How often has this happened?”

  “Don’t answer, Harlow. He doesn’t deserve shit.”

  That’s it.

  “So that’s the way you wanna play this out, Amazon? Fine.” I rise off the floor, standing toe to toe with her. “You want to carry her out of here and explain to the judge why she had to leave?” Turning, I address the prim one that freaked out earlier in the lot. “Or would you rather the police officer help you out, Miss fucking hissy fit in the parking lot?” With her eyes bugging out, then narrowing, she contemplates on how I know about her meltdown.

  “Look, Officer,” the spitfire pipes up. “I’m not adverse to you assisting in any way, as long as it helps Doll. But don’t fucking cross me. I have lawyers that could put your ass in jail with all the pretty rapists.”

  At that, I smile and snicker. Yeah, I definitely like her best.

  “Got it,” I say. I kneel back down on the floor. “What happened to cause this?” I ask. I’m not sure of what use I am, but I’ll do what I can.

  “She’s being arraigned. Isn’t that enough to freak her out, Officer?”

  “Fine. Pick her up yourself then. And by the way, I’m Risen, not officer.”

  “I’m Harlow,” Spitfire states. She’s obviously the soft one of the bunch, but I have a feeling that she’s also the one that’s tough as nails when it comes to defending her friends. “The tall drink of water is Hallette, and the matriarch in the Lucille Ball outfit is Cathryne.”

  “We came in here after...” Cathryne starts. “After she saw this.” Handing me the paper that I’ve already been blasted for, I nod, knowing why she’s distraught.

  “I wouldn’t have taken her for a marshmallow because of a fluff piece on the front page. Please tell me there’s something more?”

  “The front page bullshit wasn’t what set her off, it was this!” Cathryne flips the pages to the sports section. Looking at the paper she’s holding up, I skim the content. No wonder she’s a mess, I
would be too. In no way is China the instrument of death for the company that her parents started. If I thought last night was a fall apart moment for China, then seeing this today would make it even worse.

  Still holding her friend, Harlow strokes the long locks out of China’s face as she curls further and further into her friend’s chest, sobbing tears so hard, her body shudders from the lack of oxygen. She’s in hysterics. At this rate, she’ll pass out.

  “Let me get her off the floor at least,” I say, asking permission, but not. “She can’t stay on the floor, ladies. It’s not only disgusting, it’s cold.” Lifting Doll off the floor, I take in her weightlessness. Just like last night, my body reacts to her. It’s the same reaction every time she’s near. Her smell is honeysuckle and vanilla, and her hair is like strawberries and cream. I need to get my shit together. Last thing I need is a hard-on in full view of her friends in a dingy, bug infested, court bathroom.

  Rising up with her tucked in close, she curls into my shoulder. It’s heartbreaking. The tears flow freely across my chest where her bare skin touches mine, and it’s a torture of the best kind. How did I get messed up in this?

  “Ladies, unless you want this on the news again, I suggest we find a different way to handle her exit.” There’ll be some punk-ass with a camera phone, just waiting to clip off another picture of China falling to pieces.

  “What’s your suggestion then, big boy?” Hallette asks, much nicer this time, even though I know she’s still on the defensive regarding her precious friend. Trying to think of a way out of this, I eyeball their outfits. There’s not a great deal of material to work with, except with Cathryne. “What’s under that jacket?”