Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
REBEL
If looks could kill, I’d be dead five times over.
In fact, I’m pretty sure if looks were a pickup truck with four-wheel drive, the Lady Luck Society would ram me down like an armadillo crossing the road, stop, put their car in reverse and run me over again.
Not one woman around the table is happy to see me dragging out a chair and preparing to sit.
“Darling,” the leader of the Ladies and the highly respected matron of the Kinsey family herself—Carol Kinsey gives me a tight, polite smile, “I’m afraid that one’s taken.”
“That’s fine.” I grab a chair from a nearby table, drag it over and fall into it.
Carol Kinsey has the most polite cold shoulder in town, but she can’t hide her distaste totally. Her mouth tightens like someone forced her to suck on the ripest lemon they could find.
Twitters of disapproval rise from the others.
I toss a saccharine-sweet smile at each of them, but my confidence falters when I see Gunner at the table. With his tattoos and dark hair, Gunner looks like a vampire prince in the middle of a bright, colorful flower field—albeit a poisonous flower field.
I dismiss him with a flick of my gaze. No matter how quiet and edgy Gunner wishes to be, he is—first and foremost—a Kinsey. And by birth, he has a seat around this table, whether he likes it or not.
I, on the other hand, have no birthright whatsoever. Everything I have, I’ve worked hard for and now, I’m ready to work harder than I ever have in my entire life.
“I like sitting at the table with you ladies,” I tell Carol Kinsey. “It almost makes me want to do this more often.”
My words are a poison-tipped arrow with one target. I know the threat will bother them.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Marjorie White spits. The woman has dark hair and a perpetual scowl etched into her face. That scowl gets deeper, and more wrinkly whenever she sees me.
Her dislike for me started when her eldest son, Buddy, rented an entire restaurant just to ask me out.
I said no.
And later found out that Buddy had stolen the money from his mother in order to pay for his wasted grand gesture.
Rather than blame her son, the little thief, Marjorie put the blame on me.
In a way, I understand her. Right or wrong, in this town—it’s family over everything.
That’s partly why the Lady Luck Society—once a well-intentioned community service club—turned into a wealth-flaunting, ego-stroking, status symbol for the powerful families in Lucky Falls.
Carol tilts her chin up. “Rebel, why don’t you stop the antics and tell us what you want?” ‘ So you can leave ’ is the silent but very obvious end to that statement.
I lean forward. “Did you hear that the community wellness building on the southside of town had a broken pipe since last Tuesday? The kids have been doing after school programs next to moldy walls and buckets of water.”
Carol frowns.
“What about the park where little Shelly Jenkins had to get a tetanus shot after scraping her elbow on that broken swing? Oh, and the road to the farms out west is full of pot holes so deep, falling into one takes you on a journey to the center of the earth.”
Gunner makes a choked sound that resembles laughter, but when I look over, his eyes are as bored as always.
Marjorie stares pointedly at me. “The riff-raff on that side of town have no idea how to take care of anything. It’d be a waste to spend any more time or money on the southside community buildings. You should know since you’re?—”
Carol lifts a hand.
Marjorie bites back her words.
“Since I’m what?” I tilt my head and say what they’re all thinking. “From the trailer park?”
The Davis sisters twitter.
Marjorie pulls her lips into her mouth in glee.
Carol clears her throat. “Rebel, you’re mistaken. The Lady Luck Society is not responsible for the projects you mentioned. Maybe take it up with the city council. We, ” she makes a circle that includes the Ladies but does not include me, “are not the ones you need to speak to.”
I look at all the chilly faces around the table. No one cares. They really, genuinely, don’t give a hoot.
Carol Kinsey leans forward, her short, black hair swooping in front of her eyes. “How about this? I’ll pass along a message to my brother that you have some concerns and you two can talk about the changes you’d like to make in your community.”
I stiffen.
There it is.
Us vs. them.
The trailer park residents, the blue-collar workers, the poor, struggling farmers who don’t have half the legacy or financial power that the Kinseys do—we’re not acknowledged as a part of this town.
I’ve seen it all my life. Felt it more keenly than most.
But it’s never been more obvious than now.
My fingers curl into fists beneath the table.
I had no intentions of stepping into this perfume-spritzed pile of dog doo-doo today. My original plan was to keep my head down and work independently as I’ve always done.
But after hearing Carol’s high and mighty recount of the Lady Luck Society’s history, righteous indignation burned inside me.
I couldn’t stay still.
It was impossible.
And now, I’m getting the urge to do something foolish.
Calm down, Rebel.
My pulse hammers in my veins. I have no plan. I came over here on impulse and it would be best to leave, regroup and return to my quiet life, in my quiet corner of town, far away from the Kinseys.
That’s the smart thing to do.
But then Marjorie White opens her big mouth and says to the Davis sisters, “Can you believe that? I almost thought she was here to join the Lady Luck Society.”
The other women snicker as if the thought is completely and totally bonkers.
And that’s when I snap.
“Why can’t I?”
Carol arches a brow in surprise as if to say ‘oh, you’re still here?’
The fire in my heart burns brighter. “Why can’t I join the Lady Luck Society?”
Carol smiles patiently, as if I’m a struggling student she has to spend extra time to teach after school. “Rebel, if this is about the community center across town, I already said?—”
“I’d like to join.”
“Join what?” Carol says in a measured tone.
“The Lady Luck Society.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Suddenly, Marjorie and the Davis sisters burst out laughing.
Carol’s lips twitch as well, but she’s more adept at controlling it. “I’m afraid we’re not opening the club to new members at this time. Now, if you’ll excuse us, this is a private, Lady Luck Society only table. So if you’ll just?—”
I turn my attention to the woman beside Carol. “Victoria Pierce.”
She startles and glances up at me.
I rest my elbow on the table and set my chin in my palm. “When did you get back? I didn’t know you were already a member of the Ladies.”
My eyes are on Victoria, but my words are for Carol.
“Well, I… I…” Victoria’s mouth falls open and then slams shut.
I don’t mean to put her on the spot since I don’t know her. She was two years ahead of me in school and one of the most popular girls at Cornblue, so we didn’t interact much.
However, fair is fair. Everyone here knows that Victoria was not a member of the club before she left for law school and yet, she’s sitting here with them.
Carol puts a hand over Victoria’s and rises slowly. Her eyes are hard as flint and I can tell she’s about to take the kid gloves off.
“Rebel, the Lady Luck Society takes many things into consideration, including family background. Your mother does hard, honest work around town. However, Victoria’s family is not on the same level as yours for you to compare yourself to her.”
Carol’s words prick my heart and angry tears spring to my eyes.
The older woman pats Victoria’s hand comfortingly. “Besides, Victoria is practically family. She and Gunner were almost engaged before she left for college. There’s no need for her to go through the rigid process. Certain privileges are given to the girlfriends and wives of the Kinseys.”
I drop my hands into my lap.
My shoulders tighten.
My chest burns.
I want to argue, but I remember that my mother still works for the Kinseys. ‘ They’re the boss, Rebel ,’ mom always told me, growing up, ‘ if you want to go far, make the Kinsey’s happy’.
Though I don’t agree with that, mom still does. I already took a risk coming over here to speak my mind. I don’t want to push Carol so far that she retaliates against my mother.
The ladies watch me with satisfied smirks.
Humiliation burns my ears red.
Carol’s got me pinned against the proverbial wall. I’m done for. There’s nothing I can do except withdraw and lick my wounds while they all laugh at me.
In the midst of my chaotic emotions, I feel a shadow standing behind my chair. Gunner is there, his eyes on his mom.
In a deep, rough voice, he says, “If that’s the case, there shouldn’t be a problem with Rebel joining you.”
“S-son,” Carol’s eyes dart back and forth, “what do you mean by that? She’s not?—”
Gunner plants his hands on each of my shoulders, tugs me to my feet and says in that quiet, frosty way of his, “Rebel and I are dating.”