Chapter 1
NOTE: This has not been edited yet.
This is the night. Finally.
This is the night where everything changes. Will it be for the better? No. But it will be better for a short while, and that’s the point.
My waist is wrapped in a towel as I stand in my walk-in closet, deciding what to wear tonight. The space could fucking fit two homeless families inside it. Sometimes it makes me sad. I have all this wealth and crap, and for what?
My stepdad, Holt, and my mom are out of town, who conveniently missed my high school graduation last night. No apologies, no checking in on me to see how it went. They’re too busy cruising the coast for their anniversary, which isn’t even until next week. Fucking typical.
Do I even care anymore? No.
Fuck. Yes.
They give me whatever I want, either to keep me happy or to shut me up.
Probably the latter because of what Holt does to me in the darkness.
It’s not happiness they bring me. Misery and pain.
That’s my life, no matter how little or how much money I have.
The difference is, the money allows me to finally escape.
I hate Mom and Holt more than breathing, and I passionately hate breathing.
Existing. People on the outside, looking in, see all my wealth and privilege and wish they had what I have.
It’s nice never needing to worry about money or when I’ll find my next meal.
At the same time, I’m suffocating. Money clearly doesn’t buy love.
It only brings unwanted, superficial attention.
It’s used as a tool to pay for my silence and to control me. But now I have my own money.
I take a swig of tequila straight from the bottle, and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. It’s my stepdad’s special reserve. Fuck him. Fuck his liquor. Fuck this house. Fuck this goddamn closet. And fuck this life.
Cherry, my girlfriend of two years, takes the bottle from my hand and chugs the alcohol back. She presses the back of her hand against her mouth and coughs. “Jesus, I fucking hate tequila.”
“Then don’t drink it.”
She sticks her tongue out at me before carding through my hanging shirts.
“Where are daddy and mommy dearest tonight?” she asks. She likes my parents as much as I do, which is not at all, even if she doesn’t know the full truth of what goes on behind closed doors. Our dislike of them is one of the few things Cherry and I have in common.
“They’re out of town.”
“Convenient. Explains why they didn’t make your graduation. I mean, my parents are dicks, too, but at least they showed. Fuck your parents. Let’s make this a night to remember, then.”
“That’s the plan. We’re going to fuck shit up.”
“Now we’re talkin’!”
I grab a fistful of her blond hair from behind, yank her head back, and kiss her, tasting the tequila on her tongue.
Why do I even bother? I don’t even like her that much.
Kissing her is a way to keep her happy. If she’s happy, she leaves me the fuck alone.
I’ve spent my entire life trying to keep everyone happy.
I swear to fucking god I’m doomed to being a people pleaser, which is mostly to hide my fear and shame.
That ends tonight.
Cherry is only an accessory to my life, as are all my friends.
They’re status symbols. Someone like me, high up on the food chain, needs lots of friends, a gorgeous girlfriend, and to pump out the most epic parties before responsibilities take over our lives now that we’re fucking adults and done with high school.
Maybe I’d feel bad if she cared at all, but she doesn’t like me that much either.
She’s also with me for status, that and my money.
Besides, she’s off to college in the fall, and I’m…
well, I don’t plan to be here much longer.
The rest is moot. I learned a long time ago that everything in life is temporary.
We can’t take our wealth with us when we die.
What’s the fucking point of it all? No one will care in the end.
No one will remember me. And I don’t feel like making my mark on the world for that sort of visibility.
But I plan to make my mark on one special person. I just don’t know who that is yet.
Cherry pulls down a navy-blue linen button-up and holds it up against my chest, gnawing on her lip-stained bottom lip as she scans me with her hazel eyes.
“I like this. Wear it unbuttoned. Show off your tanned abs. I mean, you work your ass off for them, and all.”
I sit on the cushioned bench in the middle of the space, watching her dig through my clothes. It’s kind of nice. I don’t want to think about what I should wear. It’s tedious in the grand scheme of things.
After taking another swig, I wipe my mouth again, feeling the burn travel down my chest to my stomach. I hadn’t eaten today, so I’m buzzed already. Cherry notices because she says, “Pace yourself, Jules.”
I blink back a sudden head spin. “I’ll eat when we head downstairs.”
I hate that nickname, but I never say anything. Not once. People tend to walk all over me because I never speak up for myself. It’s not that I can’t, it’s just that I don’t care. People take that as an invitation to do and say what they want with me. No doubt, I look weak in their eyes.
“Don’t you get fucking sick of this?” I blurt.
“Don’t you feel like you’re actually part of a circus and you’re the main act?
Everyone’s watching and waiting for you to fuck up, so they can gasp in shock and point when you do, because it makes them feel better about themselves?
That’s how I feel, like I’m a trapeze artist without a net and everyone’s waiting for me to fall to my death.
Or maybe a zoo is a better analogy.” A zoo where animals get abused, but I don’t say that.
For just a moment, I want to tell her what Holt does to me. There are hints of what my stepdad does, which I’m sure she’s noticed, but in the end, she won’t care. Not really. She’ll give me some placating comment, then quickly move on.
“God, please don’t get all philosophical on me. Not tonight. We have the rest of our lives to be fucking serious. I just want to get trashed and fuck. That’s it.”
I’m glad I didn't tell her.
She turns to face me, straddles my lap, and rests her arms on my bare shoulders.
I have to admit, she is gorgeous. It’s too bad I like dudes more.
I’ve never been with a guy. I don’t dare.
My friends would fucking eviscerate me, no matter how much money I have.
Not that I give a shit about them, but they do serve a purpose.
They keep me from drowning in loneliness.
Even better, they don’t ask questions when I’m being depressed or weird.
That’s the beauty of being insanely wealthy.
You can be as eccentric as you want, and no one blinks an eye.
In fact, it’s expected. But screw another dude? God fucking forbid.
How I know my bisexuality is real is because when Holt forces himself on me, I don’t hate men. I don’t stop being attracted to them. I only hate him.
I tuck a fallen strand of hair behind her ear.
When I first met Cherry, she liked it when I was philosophical.
She used to find it charming. Now she just gets annoyed.
In the beginning, she’d only pretended to find me charming to get what she wanted.
Cherry is as much of a user as my so-called friends are.
That’s something I just have to deal with as a person in my position.
My parents taught me early in life that people like us don’t have true friendships. Only takers or competitors.
“Just relax and have fun tonight,” she tells me.
“Then, before I head off to college, you’re going to get me an engagement ring with a huge diamond, and we’ll announce our wedding.
I want you on a tight leash while I’m gone.
No sleeping around.” She walks her fingers up my chest and smiles coyly.
That’s rich, considering she actively cheats on me.
Of course, she’s projecting. “You know, you can always come with me. Your grades are good enough to get into Berkley.”
I’d rather stab myself in the eye. “College isn’t for me.”
I have a trust fund from my deceased father, which I got after I turned eighteen.
There’s enough money to last me for the rest of my life, whether I work or not.
I’m expected to invest it and make even more money, but I care about that as much as I care about my family, which is not at all.
Why should I? I’m not going to be around forever, anyway.
Before I go, I’ll give my money to someone worthy.
Someone who will make good use of it, and appreciate it.
There’s no point in telling Cherry we’re not getting married. I’ll never have a wife, kids, a career…
A spark of sentimentality breaches my walls, wanting to see if Cherry, the version of her when we’d met, is still in there somewhere.
I wrap my arms around her narrow waist and rest my head against her chest. “Cher… I’m not happy here.
Let’s run away. Elope. Fuck everyone else.
” It’s not what I have planned, but if she agrees, maybe life can take a different turn if I can find just a little bit of empathy in her.
I don’t expect understanding from her. I even expect a snort of laughter, which she does. Still, I’m disappointed by her reaction.
I’m just looking for a fucking sliver of hope. A fraction of love. A tiny bit of care for me. But there’s nothing. All I am to my friends and girlfriend is a wallet, who throws epic parties. Maybe if I had someone who cared about me, I could’ve survived my stepfather.
Cherry climbs off my lap and searches for some pants for me to wear.
“Get real. I’m not eloping. I’ve had my wedding planned out since I was ten. I have it planned down to the fucking centerpieces.” It doesn’t go unnoticed that she doesn’t even acknowledge that I’m unhappy.