Chapter Nine
Rocky
I was thirteen the first time my parents left me alone with Hailey and Trevor for longer than a week. My mom zipped up five designer dresses, packed away heels; her reading glasses were slipping down her nose, chestnut hair already blown out from the salon.
I was sitting on a plush ottoman at the foot of her bed, pretending to be interested in a stack of baseball cards she’d bought me.
“The Graves need our help in Dallas,” she told me. “We’ll be back in a few weeks.”
I licked my lips, picturing Nova, Oliver, and Phoebe alone somewhere. Abandoned while Elizabeth Graves got herself in a mess she couldn’t escape. “Shouldn’t I go with you?” I questioned.
“Not this time, Brayden.” She stood and kissed the top of my head. “Be good.” The advice usually came with a smirk, one she’d share with Elizabeth. But without her best friend at her side, she seemed more somber. She tossed her favorite hardbacks in a carry-on Loro Piana bag. Moving faster.
I asked four different questions.
Did a job go bad?
Is Nova involved?
Why will it take almost a month?
Is Phoebe all right?
My father tightened his black tie. He gave me a sterner look. “It’s not your concern. You’re going to watch out for your brother and sister. You’re in charge while we’re gone.”
I sighed out roughly. “Just let us go with you.”
“It’s safer for you here,” my mom consoled.
“I can look out for them there!”
“You’re not coming,” my dad finalized. “And that’s the end of it.”
I glared down at the baseball cards. I hated being in the dark more than I hated playing babysitter, and they weren’t explaining shit to me.
At thirteen, I felt entitled to answers.
To the big picture.
In hindsight, I was too young to be trusted with everything. If I knew less, then I’d have less chance of incriminating myself if we were caught. But what my parents did, it was just as much to protect themselves as it was to protect us.
Selfish. The older I became, the more I realized they were all fucking selfish. At the end of the day, we were their little pawns, and I was in no position to outmaneuver them.
I stopped arguing about Dallas.
It was odd for us to be separated from the Graves for this long.
I wanted them back.
I wanted her back.
My parents left. We were staying on the sunny coast of Savannah. Warm, sticky heat bathed me on a freshly painted wraparound porch. My seven-year-old brother ran around the lush front yard, trying to catch crickets in his palms.
I was about to call him back to finish his homework. Until I noticed the textbook on the rocking chair—all the math had been completed, penned directly on the page.
“He only has a few more years left in him,” Hailey said from a hammock.
I frowned. “What?”
At first, I thought she was reciting something from the paperback in her clutch. But she glanced over to the yard. To Trevor. “I overheard Mom and Dad talking. They said he only has a few more years before his ‘cuteness’ wears off.”
My stomach gnarled. “Before he gets older,” I rephrased.
She nodded. Trevor was the youngest, and we’d all pretended to be the innocent, bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed kid before. Anything to make our parents seem more trustworthy. But Trevor would be the last. Then he’d have to figure out where he actually fit into the family.
His purpose.
His role.
But I didn’t think he’d have a hard time figuring it out. Like our sister, he was brilliant. I was glad he was nothing like me.
Slowly—or quickly, depending on your vantage—I was becoming bitter, cynical, and protective. I’d lost faith in most of humanity. It’d become easy to fuck everyone over, knowing that most people would just as easily screw me.
Trevor wasn’t jaded by people yet. He didn’t have rough edges. No bone to pick with anyone. No venom in his veins.
I liked that for my little brother.
Nearing Hailey, I rested my shoulder on the column her hammock was tied to. She began reading again. Artwork of a moth decorated the cover. Maybe a science book? She read so much that it’d been hard to keep track.
Before I could ask, she said, “Have you ever heard of a Phengaris rebeli?”
I shook my head.
“Commonly known as the mountain Alcon blue butterfly.” Her eyes left the book and planted on me. “No?”
“Alcon blue...” I took a seat beside her on the hammock, and Hailey tucked her legs to make room for me. I eyed the page. “I don’t think that was in my biology textbook, Hails. What’s so special about it?”
“As a caterpillar, it tricks worker ants into bringing it into the colony. They’ll dote on the caterpillar. Bring it food and give it protection. All because the caterpillar makes the ant believe it’s also an ant. The queen ant to be exact.”
Damn. I raised my brows. “How?”
She smiled at my interest. “Worker ants and queen ants emit different sounds. This species of caterpillar learned how to tell the difference and mimic the queen. Then they evolved so that their progeny knew how to do it, too.” Our gazes drew back to the yard where Trevor gently cupped a grasshopper between his palms.
The weight of this comparison compressed against my chest.
“The caterpillar has it all figured out, then. Mimic the queen. Get what you want without breaking a sweat.”
She blinked. “The caterpillar is the parasite.”
I let that sink in. “Would anyone want to be the ant?”
The na?ve fools.
The desperate, trusting marks.
That would never be me.
“No one would choose to be deceived,” she rationalized.
“But there will always be ants and caterpillars. And the caterpillar will always win in the end.”
She nodded, thoughtful about this. She’d always been thoughtful. Her eyes fell back to her book. “It’s comforting in a way,” she told me. “Knowing that we’re not unique. So many other beings in the animal kingdom adopted this lifestyle first.” She smiled at me. “Who doesn’t want to be queen, right?”
Ever since Hailey taught me about the mountain Alcon blue butterfly, I remind myself to mimic the queen.
It’s what I do when I arrive at the country club. I barely lift a finger while the unsuspecting ants let an imposter inside their colony.
My new identity in Victoria, Connecticut, has more truth than I’d like, but I’ve already established I’m Hailey’s brother, so I’m obligated to play within that parameter.
Name: Grey Thornhall
Occupation: Investor (of what, to be determined)
Why I’m Here: Considering moving to Victoria
Relationship Status: Divorced
I contacted Carter to forge a marriage certificate and divorce papers. Phoebe’s lie cost me four grand to make indisputable. Just another day at the office.
A cobbled patio frames a wide pool, but most of the outside area is grass. My lounge chair even rests on the lawn like I stepped onto the English countryside. Dark sunglasses shade my eyes, and I watch a manager corner a couple college-aged guys on the other side of the pool.
She gesticulates angrily with her hands.
Before she arrived, the guys were doing cannonballs in the water. A toddler could piece together why she’s upset.
I hate rich pricks. Ironic enough, since I spend most of my life pretending to be one.
With a tightness in my face that I’m trying to relax, I glance at my phone in my fist.
Trevor: They said they needed me here. I can’t desert Mom & Dad.
I keep rereading the text, and my jaw aches the longer I grind my teeth. Why he cares about them is a question for a therapist that none of us go to. But regardless of our mommy and daddy issues—that only I seem to be harboring, out of everyone—I hate that I left him in Seattle to do their bidding without me. I hate that we’re not all together.
That does include Phoebe’s brothers, even if I’d enjoy stranding Nova on a remote island for forty-eight hours. She gave me the reins to talk to them on her behalf, and I know her. She’d never lie to them. Never manipulate them. I don’t want to either. But I haven’t fully decided what I’m going to tell them.
I did make a decision about my own brother. I told Trevor: We’re in Connecticut. I’ll give you the coordinates to come out here. This stays between us.
Will Hailey and Phoebe be happy I outed their location? Probably not, but I trust Trevor won’t say anything to our parents. Having him here will also be good if things go sideways. And really... I need him out here and away from our mom and dad. It’s enough reason for him to have the truth.
I send another text to my brother: I want you here. If you ever change your mind, I’ll come get you myself. Our parents will be fine on their own.
“It’s that time of year.” A girl steals my attention. She’s in the chair beside mine, watching the manager lecture the douchebags. Sunglasses are perched on the top of her head, and her brown eyes flit to mine. “The Caufield undergrads are back.”
I pocket my phone in my swim trunks. “They can afford this?”
The dues are a hundred thousand a year.
A bill I paid this morning on the contingency I’ll be prorated what I don’t use if I decide not to move to Victoria. But I had enough money from my last job to swing the cost.
“Their parents can. And believe me, this place is important for networking if you want to secure interviews and internships with the best companies after college. Their parents will front the bill, no problem.” She swings her legs to the side of the lounge chair to face me. Her white bikini contrasts with her warm brown skin. “I’m Valentina.” She holds out her hand. “I don’t love my name, so I usually just go by Val.”
I lean forward to shake it. “Rocky.”
Her eyes light up. “Please tell me that’s your actual name. We can commiserate together.”
“Nickname,” I tell her in a husky breath. “And your name is beautiful, Val.”
She blushes, then smiles. I can tell it’s genuine. The zygomaticus major muscles on either side of our cheeks are some of the hardest muscles to control consciously.
Hailey reads books.
I read people.
All I want from Val is information about this town. And I’m forcing myself not to do a sweep of the patio. I haven’t seen Hailey or Phoebe, and that’s primarily why I’m here.
To spy on my sister and her best friend on their first day being “normal”—whatever the fuck that means.
“You’d be the second to like it,” Val tells me. “Right behind my mother.”
“We have good taste, then.” I smile over at her. “Your mother and I.”
She laughs brightly.
No ring on her finger, but she’s reading a business textbook. The way she referred to the students as undergrads means she’s already earned her undergrad degree.
“Please tell me you’ll be around the club often,” she says. “You can tell her yourself.” She’s prying.
I take a sip from my vodka soda. “I’m considering.” My phone buzzes in my pocket.
“If you’re in business, there are a lot of connections to be made here,” Val says. “I’m getting my MBA at Caufield, and I already have three guaranteed positions after I graduate.”
I pull out my phone, half paying attention to her now like I’m important shit. This wouldn’t be a good ploy to use on everyone, but she’s giving off “desperate to be liked,” which makes establishing my credibility and roping her in easier.
“I already have a job,” I tell her.
Heat radiates off her face. “Of course you do. I mean, you’re here.” She clears her throat and bows toward me. “What do you do, anyway?”
“I’m an investor,” I say, more disinterested as I glance at the texts on my phone.
206-555-1983: This is Oliver. I can’t get a hold of P. Are you with her?
Nova: Where the fuck is my sister?
Looks like I can’t keep delaying “the talk” I need to have with her brothers. They’ll just keep blowing up my phone. And I can’t blame them. I’d do the same thing trying to find Hailey.
“There’s a party this weekend,” Val tells me. I break away from my phone to give her my attention again. She lights up. “All the locals and some caufers—that’s what we call Caufield students—will be there. You should come.”
“I’ll check it out.”
She gives me the info, and I plug it into my phone.
I sit up, resting my feet on the ground. “So what do you call the people who aren’t locals or caufers?”
“Skunks.”
Again, I already hate it here. But honestly, I hate it everywhere.
I lift my brows and grin in the sunlight. “Creative.”
She laughs. “If you do move here, you’ll be a local before you know it. No need to worry.”
“I’m not worried. You can call me a skunk, Val.” I slip my phone in my pocket again. “It doesn’t mean I am one.” I finish off my vodka soda and stand. “I’m going to have lunch in the dining room. Join me?”
I could pick her brain more about who’s who here.
She smiles. “I’d like that, actually. Let me change out of my suit first, and I’ll meet you there.”
Collecting people wasn’t this easy when I was younger. Teenage Rocky would work twice as hard to reach the same outcome. It had less to do with my skills and everything to do with my age. The older I am, the more people believe the bullshit I sell.
Twenty-five is still young enough to elicit doubt that can ruin a job, but with a five-o’clock shadow and routine trips to the gym, I do whatever I can to be nondescript in age. Passing for thirtysomething without question or hesitation.
Valentina doesn’t question my age.
She doesn’t question my status.
I’ve pocketed her for the future. I can’t tell what use she’ll be, but within a matter of minutes, she’s bought into the version of myself I’m selling in Victoria. And that alone is priceless.
I leave the pool area with a natural, self-important gait that Phoebe would mock outside of a con. And to be clear, this is how I always fucking walk. Like I’ve been where my feet are landing a hundred times already, even if it’s the first time they’ve touched this part of the earth.
When I head to the locker rooms, I hate that I’m thinking about her.
I should be thinking about Val and the social hierarchy in this town. Things that’ll protect my sister and Phoebe if shit blows up.
As I shrug on my sports jacket, a familiar voice suddenly catches my ear.
“You’re not selling her horse,” Jake whispers hurriedly. “She’s only been gone a year, Mom. You can’t just erase everything she loved.”
Desperation.
It’s an emotion easily preyed upon.
A row of mahogany lockers blocks Jake Waterford from view. Or rather—Jake Koning Waterford. A “fun” fact I discovered this morning on a thorough search into the club. Jake is wealthy and emotionally unhinged from his sister’s death.
He’s a great mark.
But he’s also my sister’s landlord, and that muddies the so-called well enough for me.
For our parents, it wouldn’t matter. They’d swim, drink, and frolic in polluted waters, and they’d convince you it’s a natural, healthy spring. That it’s what’s best for you.
And you’d believe them.
Shit, if they were here, Jakey-poo would already be strung up on a dartboard. He’s lucky they’re too invested in Seattle and he won’t become the target.
Smooth things over with Jake.
It’s on my to-do list. At the bottom, but it’s on there.
I gently close the locker and slip into view.
Jake’s eyes flash with shock, then annoyance. “I have to go, Mom. Please don’t do anything until I get there.” He ends the call and shakes his head in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing here?”