by Nora Cobb
The Bouchard mansion is modern and pristine, decorated with antiques and modern technology. Oil portraits line the wall of the sweeping staircase. When Beth asks if Cora know who those people are, Cora laughs and replies they are her ancestors. She took us to her bedroom, which is a suite. Of course, she has a private bath, but her bed is in a separate room. We sit in a little sitting room decorated with matching furniture. It’s intentionally decorated, not cast-off furniture from around the house.
“My ancestors were Parisian,” she explains, “so I decorated my rooms to look like an apartment in the Haussmanian style.”
“It’s lovely.” I smile, and Beth nods. We’ll look that word up later. I don’t want to open my mouth and prove my ignorance. We search the internet for trendy pictures of decor for the shower. Quickly, I catch on that we aren’t decorating with party balloons from a box store. Cora wants to sit on a specific blue sofa while she opens her presents, and I have to arrange renting it.
“And we need to order a table, so I have a place for my gifts.”
“Don’t they have tables at the hotel?” Beth asks.
Cora gives Beth a withering look. “We need a table that will match the sofa that I will sit on.”
“With nobody else?” questions Beth.
“Correct.” Cora makes a mark on her clipboard. She prefers to use paper because it’s more legally binding, according to her. Why we need to have a legally binding list of party favors, I don’t know.
“We could ask Lexi’s mom for gifts for the favor bag,” Beth suggests in a hesitant voice.
Cora places the tip of her silver ink pen to her lips. “Maybe some lipstick. Her mom’s scent makes me sneeze. I hate it when Lexi douses it all over her body to hide the smell.”
“The smell of what?” Beth leans forward, eager to hear the dirt.
Cora’s face flushes as she remembers who we are. Lexi has been her friend for ages, and we just showed up almost yesterday. She coughs a little and waves off the question as if it didn’t exist. It reminds me that Cora isn’t friendly because she likes us. She’s friendly because she hates Arielle. I have to tread carefully. Anything could tip her back over to Arielle’s side.
There’s a rough bang on the door that makes me jump. Cora glares over her shoulder and yells for the person to wait. They don’t listen, and the door swings open. A teenage boy is posing in the open doorway, looking Beth and me over. “Are these your friends?” he asks. “Are they the new Arielle and Lexi?”
“Connor,” Cora raises her voice, “I didn’t say come in.” Cora rolls her eyes as the kid saunters in anyway. “This is my brother, Connor.”
This kid is a teen. I mean, I’m eighteen, but obviously, I’m an adult. Connor may be a teenager in numbers, but he still looks like a kid. If I have to guess, I’d say he’s about fourteen. But from the way he’s acting, he thinks he’s twenty-one. He’s dressed in logos from head to toe—a slave to the trends. I’m not hating on Gucci and McCartney, but this kid needs to be paid a commission for advertising.
Connor catches Beth staring. The corners of his mouth curve up as he leans against the end of the sofa where we are seated. Unfortunately, his weight shoves the couch forward by a foot. Beth drops her tablet, and I squeal.
Cora is on her feet. “Connor, we are busy.”
“I can see that. I just came in here to help.” Connor eyes Beth and winks. Beth’s face twists weirdly, as if she can’t decide on either a scowl or a grimace. That’s the only encouragement the kid needs. Connor takes a seat between me and Beth.
“Connor, I will get Mom,” threatens Cora.
He ignores her. “I don’t think we were introduced.” He holds out his hand.
Beth is a kind person. I know she can be hard and mouthy, but deep down she tries to do the just thing, but this is not the time to be kind. She holds out her hand, and Connor grips it and presses it to his mouth in some super-awkward kiss. His tongue presses against Beth’s hand as her eyes widen, and she tries to yank it back. For an awkward second, he’s making out with Beth’s hand.
“Connor!” Cora shouts. “You gross little troll. Out!”
The boy is not fazed. He stands up and winks like that was super sexy. Cora hovers over him like she’s his handler. She practically pushes him out of the room.
“And pull up your pants, it’s unbecoming!” She hisses before slamming the door shut.
With her eyes closed, Cora leans against the door, inhaling deeply. Walking quickly across the room, Cora enters the bathroom and returns with a washcloth for Beth.
“You may wash your hands in there if you like.”
“No, it’s okay,” Beth sniffs the washcloth. “This is scented.”
“Yes,” Cora replies. “It’s my personal scent. I have to apologize for that. My brother is young, and he’s at that age.”
“It’s okay, Cora. It’s just teenage bravado.”
Cora smiles at our patience and understanding, but what else could we do? I would cringe to see a playback of all the stupid shit I’ve done in life, starting with this year.
There’s another knock on the door, and Cora is on her feet, moving toward it faster than a killer shark. She swings the door open and steps back with a sigh. In the doorway is an older woman. She’s attractive with upswept gray hair, deep brown eyes, and a perfectly straight nose. Dressed in a silk blouse, cardigan, and skirt, her heels are low but stylish. Not wanting to make the same mistake that we made with the butler, we wait to be introduced.
“Mommy,” Cora smiles, opening the door wider. “Come in and meet my friends.”
Beth and I stand up as if a string were attached to our heads and yanked hard. Mrs. Bouchard silently demands that kind of respect and awe. She walks into the room and eyes us coolly. Mrs. Bouchard is neither friendly nor judgmental, but she’s politely summing us up.
“It’s nice to meet you, girls.” She holds out her hand, and she and I shake. Beth hesitates, not sure what to do with the washcloth. She places it in her other hand, and then holds her hand out shyly. Mrs. Bouchard smiles softly and shakes Beth’s hand, not even flinching at the dampness. That’s high-class manners.
Cora takes the washcloth and explains. “Connor was in here before, acting awful. Beth was a good sport about it.”
Mrs. Bouchard grins at Beth, and the look in Beth’s eyes is relief. “He’s at a troublesome stage,” Mrs. Bouchard smiles pleasantly, “Let’s hope it doesn’t last too long.”
“Congratulations on the wedding,” I chime in. “We’re helping with the bridal shower.”
Cora looks down at her shoes as her mother’s lips tighten. It’s not the expected response, and that slight moment of camaraderie shifts into palpable tension. I don’t think it’s us, but I can’t be too sure. I hold myself still as Beth does the same. We brace ourselves for the storm.
“Cora, I spoke to your father. You may have the jet for Miami, but we cannot have anyone piling into it. I expect a list.”
“Yes, Mommy.” Cora’s voice is soft, and there is a touch of relief in its tone.
Mrs. Bouchard smiles again. Her smile isn’t a full mouth-stretch of happiness. It’s a low-key bend to her lips. I can’t imagine any more than that. “Your uncle is Phillip Page, isn’t it?” she asks, and I nod my head. “And your family owns a coffee retailer.” Beth nods her head. “But your grandfather was a politician.”
“Yes, ma’am,” answers Beth dutifully. “He was a senator in New York.”
Mrs. Bouchard nods her head and smiles wider. “Nice to meet you both. Cora, dinner at seven. If your friends are here, please ask them to stay.” And with that, she leaves.
Beth’s back slumps like an overcooked noodle, and I let out a low groan. It’s not the diner, sugar. Cora looks startled by our reaction when Beth flops down on the couch like she wants to faint. I punch her arm, and she sits up.
Cora smirks at Beth. “I didn’t know you had cred, you poor rich girl.”
Beth fans her cheeks. “I didn�
��t run for office. Besides, it’s no big deal.” Cora and I share a look. Beth continues, “Your mom seems nice, but if she had taught me AP chemistry, I would have passed it with a 4.0.”
But Cora’s eyes are downcast and tears cling to her bottom lashes. “She doesn’t approve of Nicholas. She’s not convinced that the Mancusos will be a strong enough alliance.”
“But she’s lending you a jet for the party.” My voice is a touch too loud.
Cora waves off my reasoning. “They have cash and real estate, but few connections. If his father’s wealth was only in stocks, my mother would have never approved. Besides, a shower isn’t a wedding.”
Cora gets up and hurries into the bathroom. “I don’t have time to reapply my makeup.” She holds a tissue under her eyes, gently dabbing away the tears that threaten to leave behind ugly streaks. She steps back into the bathroom and calls out, “Are you staying for dinner?”
Beth rolls her eyes when I say yes.
CHAPTER 7
Natalie
The dreaming of what must have happened during my parents’ last vacation tosses and turns my body during the night, but in the morning, I tamp it down. I had nightmares of them descending out of sight into deep, black waters where no light shines, but I have to move on. I have to continue. I have to be strong. And make them proud—whether they are here, or not. I have had a taste of what my life could be, and success is pushing me forward. Success will be my revenge.
By the time the limo pulls away from the airport, I’m excited to be in South Beach. Cora, Beth, and I take a limo together to Newark International to Miami. Lexi meets us at the hangar. She wants to ride the jet down, but she’s also avoiding us. I had to invite her. Or rather, Beth invited her with Cora’s blessing. And we braced ourselves because Arielle has learned about the party by that evening.
Our limo drives past the traffic crowding the airport and heads to the Four Seasons on the beach. I try not to stare out the window at the people walking half naked in their flashy swimwear in public. Copying Cora’s moves, I sit back, look at my phone, and toss my hair. I have to fit in—it’s a survival skill and this party is my power play. I can get Lucas back only if I topple Arielle over. Though I’m not the official queen of Montlake, I’m definitely the usurper.
The first night is relaxing as we hang by the pool. Beth had been smart enough to ask Cora where she shopped for her swimwear, and before we left Jersey, we raced over to the boutiques in New York. Beth wore her Montlake uniform, and they buzzed us in. We spent serious money, buying clothing like it was battle armor.
We were ready to slay. And we have now conquered, in our designer bikinis.
The first night, Cora requests a private bar by the pool, and we have an open bar that doesn’t card. Beth asks for a rainbow, and she comes back with a tray of shots lined up—ROYGBIV. It’s good times as I get to know girls that never spoke to me in the halls, but who are now eager to be my best friends. I’m not easy with it at first, until Cora confides to me.
“Everyone on the guest list cannot stand Arielle,” Cora stands at the mirror, twisting her hair up into a low bun. “I’m taking a chance on you, Natalie. A big risk. We’re counting on you.”
“Why me?” I ask. “Why not yourself?”
“Because people need a rebel to make a big change,” replies Cora. “I want to marry a boy that wasn’t chosen for me. I’m not a true rule-breaker, but you are, so lead the way.”
“What rules have I broken?”
Cora watches my reflection as she speaks. “You know what you’ve done.” She walks off, leaving me behind in the changing room. It was a stupid question. I’ve been breaking the rules since day one at Montlake.
Back then, I didn’t know it. But now, I do. Against the kids that wanted to break me, I have three captains behind me. Well, almost three.
CHAPTER 8
Troy
When Mrs. Bouchard called me and invited me to fly down with the girls, I couldn’t figure out why. I should’ve guessed that it was about Vicki and Connor. I wondered if Cora’s parents had told her that she was off the hook, and our younger siblings were in on it.
If I want to save my sister instantly, all I have to do is tell my mother that I’m willing to marry Cora. But I’m not going to do that, not even for my sister.
It’s not that I’m a selfish bastard. I can be, but that’s not the issue. Mancuso is a decent guy, and I see the way Cora looks at him. If I separated Cora from the boy she loved, she would turn my life into a living hell the same way Arielle is doing to Lucas. I’m not looking to ruin three lives with a reckless decision.
It’s after seven when I check into the hotel. I wait by the desk for my keycard. I want to make sure I’m on the right floor. Cora’s party is hush-hush: if you don’t know about it, you’re out. I never thought the order would be shaken up senior year—and so close to graduation too.
Returning to the lobby in my board shorts, I can hear the party at the pool as I approach. A guy stops me before I step onto the brightly lit patio. I grin, showing him the pass Cora sent to my phone, and he lets me in. I stand at the edge of the pool, scanning the faces until I see the one I’m looking for. I dive in and swim across the water, lit with hot pink lights. Rising up, I run a hand over my hair as I lift myself out of the pool at Natalie’s feet.
Lying in a chaise, she shifts her body. Her legs rub against each other as she looks at me with those bright blue eyes. She looks delicious in the yellow string bikini. Nothing to imagine, but I stay cool, and recite baseball stats.
“Hey, babe,” I smile, “fancy meeting you here.”
She rolls her eyes. “That line has aged like milk.”
I smirk, and then I glare at the two losers taking up space in the chair next to her. They get up and leave. Natalie looks over. Her lips part as I lie down in the chaise next to her. I motion to the waiter.
“What are you having?” I ask her.
“I’ll have a vodka tonic with Tito’s.”
I grin and order the same. “Nice, you’re letting loose.”
“I see you are too? Bottled water not strong enough?”
I sigh, stretching my arms behind my head, and Natalie’s eyes trace the line of my chest. It’s not smart to get cocky. Natalie’s not the type to fall for a guy just because of looks. Our relationship is changing, and I have to change my game or sink to the bottom. I take our drinks off the tray and tip the guy.
“What are you thinking about?” She takes a sip from her straw.
“I was thinking that if I want to impress you, I have to use my brain.”
Her eyes widen, and she smiles. “That’s honest.”
My eyes linger on the soft curves of her body. Her killer shape is barely concealed by a string bikini. My eyes focus on her lips.
“You don’t seem to mind when I’m less than perfect,” I reply. “And that’s me ... being honest.”
For a moment, she stares at me before speaking. “Then, if we’re being honest, I was apprehensive when your family helped me get back into Montlake. I thought you wanted something. But, well, you haven’t asked for anything yet.” She casts her eyes down. “Why did you help me?”
I turn and lie on my back, staring up at the lights on in the hotel towering above us. “It was a shit move. I never intended for your pictures to be shared ... not like that. I felt I had to extend an olive branch.”
“I still wouldn’t have trusted you until I saw you with your sister,” she admits.
I look over at her, and Natalie is sitting stiffly. Her drink is on the table, almost full. Our conversation is making her cautious. I don’t blame her. Alcohol and I are a bad combo for her.
“You met my family,” I scoff. “And you act as if they’re okay. I owe you a big one.”
Natalie laughs and it’s a sweet sound. “They’re not that bad.” She presses her lips together when I flash a questioning look. “Well, your mother is intense.”
“That’s a compliment.” I laugh.
<
br /> Natalie relaxes, and she lies back down on the chaise. She rolls onto her stomach and rests her chin on her arms. I watch her every move, knowing that it’s still too soon. I have to wait until she has no doubts about me.
Her eyes close for a second and slowly open. I have to catch my breath. “Did you mean what you said ... when you said you forgave me?” I ask.
Her face tenses slightly but then relaxes again. Her look is sincere as she phrases her words carefully. “When I saw you acting the way you really are, my opinion of you changed. I’m willing to give you another chance.”
