Chapter 2 #2
“The guy I can ask to launder the money is from a family I wouldn’t ever trust, the Crawfords.
” She walks over to the kitchen and starts rummaging around, pulling out cleaning supplies.
The girl cannot stop cleaning the room, something about tugging at the back of my mind but I brush it aside for now.
I’m a little nervous about pissing her off by, you know, existing in the same space full time.
“His father is my father’s best friend. When I was a child, my mother would gossip with her friends about how she wanted me to marry one of his sons. I hate every single one of them, except for Atticus.”
“Atticus? Wow.”
Avery rolls her eyes. “His mother named all three of her sons after notable literary figures. Atticus is the youngest and his mother had been hoping for a girl. His father is big on the old adage of ‘an heir and a spare’, so he has no use for a third son. The older boys are absolute assholes because they know just how powerful they are going to be when their father passes the business on. Atticus gets nothing and has been told to forge his own path.”
I nod along. I’m starting to get used to the bizarre and cruel ways of the super-rich parents of the elite. Then again, my own mother picked a gram of heroin over me every day of the week, so I can’t really judge.
Avery looks up from where she’s wiping down the fridge.
I can honestly say I’ve never even thought about cleaning a fridge in my life.
“Atticus started his own business in his final year here at Hannaford. He’s now independently wealthy and very vague about how he makes his money.
He claims it’s because he doesn’t want his brothers snooping around in his business dealings, but I once asked him if I could do an internship with him during the summer break, for college applications and to get away from Joey, and he told me his business is not appropriate for a young lady.
He’s not a chauvinistic kind of guy and he’s never said anything like that to me before.
So, I’m thinking it’s either illegal or sexual. ”
Hmm. Either would work to clean the cash. I wouldn’t mind him taking a cut as long as it was a reasonable amount and he keeps his mouth shut.
Avery moves on to scrub the coffee table in our little lounge area, complete with a massive TV on the wall and an honest-to-God fireplace, and she blushes a little as she clears her throat.
“The truth here is that I used to have a crush on him. A big one, I would follow him around like a lost puppy, but then he hit high school and started avoiding me. I think Joey’s violence scared him off. ”
It’s honestly weird to see her blush. I stare at it for a second before I can speak. “If he avoids you, how will you get him to clean the cash?”
“Oh, we still see each other at society functions and galas. He’s nice to me, just distant. I’ve given up on my feelings for him.” Her tone says otherwise. I wonder how Ash feels about this, and then I remember he’s a dick and I don’t care what he thinks.
There’s an awkward pause and I think I’m supposed to say something to her about this guy, something that hypes her up and reassures her, but I’m shit at girl talk. I’m also trying not to vomit at the thought of revealing my own truth, but I can’t avoid it forever.
Before I can chicken out, I take a deep breath and just say it.
“The Jackal told Joey not to touch me because he thinks he owns me. He’s going to take me someday, lock me in a room, and force me to be with him.
He’ll rape and torture me until I submit to him.
If I don’t make some very careful moves before graduation, I’m going to be trapped by him.
Any guy who touches me is in danger if it gets back to him. ”
Avery stops scrubbing and straightens up sharply. Her eyes narrow and she looks exactly the same as when I met her a year ago, cold and stunning and calculating, only this time, it’s on my behalf.
“Well, we need to plan some moves then, don’t we?”
After a quiet day of unpacking, gossiping with Avery, and getting my class notes together, I’m feeling more human by the time I head to bed.
I didn’t even know it was possible to be that comfortable; it’s literally a revelation.
When my alarm wakes me, Avery is already up and messing around in the kitchen, her uniform tailored to fit impeccably and her makeup flawless to match.
She laughs at me when I mumble that to her on the way to the bathroom, her eyes twinkling at my obviously dazed look, and by the time I’m walking out of the shower, she’s handing me a cup of coffee.
All it takes is a single sip, my eyes rolling back in my head and a stupid grin on my face, for Avery to start cackling at me all over again.
There’s something soft in the sound though, like it’s a joke we’re both in on, and my chest feels all weird at the reminder that, well, duh, she’s my best friend .
Why wouldn’t she remember my coffee order or the fact that I refuse to skip out on food here because it feels like a betrayal to my younger self?
I remember a dozen tiny details about her that have changed my own routine, like her preference to shower first in the morning and her insane ballet training schedule that will give me more than enough time to hit the mats myself and still walk back to our room together.
I couldn’t forget Joey’s presence at this school even if I wanted to, and the crack of his palm hitting her cheek still bounces around in my head. It’s a problem, one we haven’t talked about enough for me to have a solid plan just yet, but we’ll get there.
I, stupidly, think that there’s nothing that can ruin my day because not only is my coffee made perfectly , it’s in a reusable cup, so I can drink it on my way down to the dining hall to eat my own bodyweight in pancakes.
Avery informs me that she has some bullshit with the student council to see to, so I head down by myself.
No whispers or snide comments follow me, and man, does it feel good.
The ban on speaking to me has clearly lifted, Avery said so herself, but as I walk into the dining hall and find it overcrowded with students, they still give me a wide berth and pointed looks like I’m some diseased creature from the sewers.
Joke’s on them, I don’t give a fuck about making any more friends, and their bullshit just makes it easier for me to save Avery a seat.
It’s fine.
I like the quiet.
And it is quiet.
Right up until the moment Harley and Blaise drop themselves down across from me at the table with full plates of food and wary looks in their eyes. There goes my day, all the way to hell, because there’s no way this ends well.
It’s only the first day back to class and I’m already facing hot-and-entitled-boy bullshit. Yay me.
The way they both just park their asses in front of me gets under my skin instantly.
I haven’t seen hide nor hair of either of them since Ash stormed off at the hotel, and I’m not feeling much warmth toward them now.
Okay, that’s a lie; I’m feeling pissy but turned on at the very sight of them. Sue me.
Huffing at them both, the sound borders on bratty. “Seriously. I’m not dealing with either of you this fucking early in the morning unless it’s a life-or-death situation. Is someone bleeding?”
Harley snorts at me and offers me a glass of juice.
He’s looking perfectly edible in his uniform, slightly ruffled like he threw it on in a rush, and his hair is just messy enough to know it’s not a style choice but a consequence of his morning routine.
The slightly bloodshot look to his eyes only confirms that he’s already been to the pool this morning.
I hate that I know that much about him, but not as much as I hate the way my chest tightens at the mere sight of him. Fuck, he’s hot. Like dangerously hot.
It pisses me off.
Glancing at the juice, I give him a truly dark glare, one of my very best, as I shake my head. “I’d rather not start my week off with the runs, thanks, asshole.”
He cackles at the curious look Blaise gives us both.
I try not to blush at having the rock god’s eyes touch me.
Not that I’m looking directly at him, oh no, that sort of behavior is still way out of my reach.
Any visuals I have of this guy come from the corner of my eye.
How can he be the center of my attention while only occupying my peripherals, you might ask?
Pure talent. He’s a fucking savant like that.
Even this line of thinking is utterly shameful, and I can only pray that this will be the day I get over my obsession with him and his music. I’m completely doomed, so I can only live in hope.
Ignorant of me losing my mind across from them, Harley drawls, “Don’t ask, man. We had a great Thanksgiving break last year. I like to think that was when we became friends.”
I wave my knife between us. “We are not friends. I’m Avery’s friend, and the two of you are firmly Team Ash.”
Blaise gives me another look, and I grumble into my pancakes.
I’d love to tell him to fuck off, but I can’t imagine saying those words to his face.
God, the fact that I’m able to speak in front of either of them right now is clearly a heroic effort.
The girls sneaking glances at us obviously think so, too, because a whole lot of ire is now being thrown my way.
For some reason, Luca and the girls from the group home pop into my head again and I’m struck by the difference in my reaction to jealousy. Without skipping a beat, I was ready to throw that man at the girls and be done with the situation altogether.