12. Archie
Archie
T uesday morning, I wake to music blasting through the built-in speakers that are in every room. The stereo system was pretty advanced twelve years ago when Dad had it installed after buying the house. I haven’t used it in years, but apparently, Piper has discovered it.
I check my mobile. Six am. Not too early to get up, but I was out late last night with Rhys, who’s in town for a few days in between shows. The waves are supposed to be rubbish this morning, so I didn’t have a reason to get up early.
Piper’s curious music choice has fixed that, though. I’ve never heard the song she’s blaring, but I’d guess she heard it in New York at one of those clubs that only play electronic dance music. Except, this is worse than that. It’s borderline eighties pop, and the singer has a high, girly voice.
Worst of all, the chorus feels very pointed. Basically, hey, hey rich boy is repeated about a thousand times in a row.
I reckon this is payback for Sunday night, and I let out a soft chuckle. Clever. If I’m not careful, I might start liking this back and forth with Piper. She knows how to keep things interesting.
I won’t be going back to sleep, but I won’t be rushing downstairs as proof her little ploy worked.
I clasp my hands behind my head and wait for the song to end.
The song that follows is something about a pretty boy.
Dunno whether to be flattered or offended by that.
Does Piper think I’m pretty? Do I want her to?
Like she’s reading my mind, the next song that plays is “You’re So Vain . ” The line, you probably think this song is about you, is particularly cutting.
Not chuckling anymore, I roll out of bed and check the surf report.
Wave isn’t great—like I expected—but I’d rather bob around in the ocean than wonder if I am, in fact, so vain .
I dig around in my closet until I find a pair of Speedos to wear under my wetsuit.
No more going au naturale for me while Piper is around.
As I walk downstairs, a familiar loud grinding sound comes from the kitchen, making my stomach rumble. I’ll have to wait for Piper to finish whatever she’s doing with the Vita-mix before I make my protein smoothie.
The kitchen isn’t my first destination, though. That honor goes to the stereo encased in the built-in entertainment unit. I’m across the room from Piper, but her back is to me, and she doesn’t hear me over the sound of the high-powered blender.
Piper’s mobile is connected via Bluetooth to the system, and her Spotify playlist is visible on the stereo screen. Next song up? “Super-Rich Kids” by Frank Ocean. Playlist name? Rich, Spoiled Kids with Daddy’s Money.
I’d be an idiot not to feel targeted, but at least now I know it wasn’t only vanity or paranoia spurring me to think so.
Quietly, I cross the family room into the kitchen. There’s a bit of an odor in there, which I realize might be from the dishes I used yesterday that are still on the counter. When I’m less than a foot behind her, I yell, “Good morning!”
Piper yelps, then whips around long enough to shoot me a startled look before turning off the blender. “You scared me.” Slowly, she faces me again, a placid smile on her face, but her eyes behind those glasses are all mischief. “I didn’t hear you come down.”
“My fault.” I plaster on what I hope is an innocent enough grin to match hers. “I should have warned you how loud the music and Vita-mix are.”
“Oh no!” she gasps, but I don’t miss her lip twitch. “Did I wake you?”
“It’s a whole-house stereo system.”
Piper’s mouth drops so convincingly, I almost believe she’s surprised. “I had no idea. I thought it only played in here!”
I shake my head and twirl my pointer finger in a circle. “Whole house…if you toggle the right button, anyway.”
“I’m so sorry, Archie. I must have accidentally hit it.” Her innocent act slips just enough that we spend the next few seconds staring each other down.
I debate whether to call her out, but then she’d have every reason to call me out for my fire alarm trick yesterday. She might even ask if I’ve hidden the coffee, and I’m not ready yet to cop to that level of immaturity.
I peek around her and point. “You done there?”
“Oh, yeah.” She twists the blender off the stand and carries it to the island where a glass is waiting. “I’ll clean it out for you,” she says as she pours.
“You beaut. Thanks. I’ll grab my board.”
I’m halfway down the hall when she calls. “Hey, Arch?”
“Yeah?”
“I made too much. You want half? It’s a green smoothie. I’d hate for it to go to waste after I used some of your protein powder.
For a second, I debate whether to trust Piper. Has she got more planned for me than just an early morning pointed playlist? Probably, but if she’s drinking the smoothie, too, it can’t be too bad, right?
“Sure. That’d be great, cheers,” I call before grabbing my board.
When I get back to the kitchen, I prop my board against the wall before Piper hands me a tall lidded-metal cup that looks identical to the one she’s holding in her other hand. I take it from her but wait until she takes a long sip of hers before putting my own straw to my lips.
When she smiles and says, “Delicious, if I do say so myself,” I reckon I’m safe.
One long sip and swallow proves me wrong. The taste of garlic and onion fill my mouth, and I shudder as I run to the sink. I spit out what I haven’t swallowed, then scoop water from the tap into my mouth.
When I stand upright again, Piper is sipping her smoothie and scrolling on her mobile.
“What’s in this?” I lift the cup.
Her gaze wanders from her mobile to me. “The smoothie?” An innocent shrug follows. “Kale, spinach, a little almond milk, strawberries, and other fresh berries. Some Greek yogurt and a little protein powder. Does it taste okay?”
Her brow furrows with worry, and I almost fall for it.
Then I remember everything she did on Sunday.
Piper isn’t the innocent kid I remember.
She’s a terrorist.
“Okay, fine.” I glare. “Sorry for yesterday. Now tell me what you did to the smoothie.”
She blinks with surprise. “Thank you for the apology, but I didn’t do anything to the smoothie.”
I walk to the table and hand her the cup. “Prove it.”
Without breaking eye contact, Piper takes the glass and sips loudly from the straw. She doesn’t flinch. “Tastes fine to me.”
She hands me the smoothie, then drinks from her own. “No difference at all.”
My eyes drop from her back to my cup. Am I mental? Possibly, but I still don’t trust her. I also won’t let her win. If she wants to pretend there’s nothing sketchy happening here, I can pretend too.
I take a long sip of my smoothie, but before it’s halfway down my throat, I’m gagging. I make it back to the sink just in time for everything to come back up. The sight and smell of the green concoction make me gag again. Over the sound of my retching, I hear Piper laughing.
I twist off the lid, dump the rest of the smoothie down the drain before glaring at Piper.
“No difference at all?”
She shrugs. “Maybe yours had a little extra something.”
A thousand possibilities run through my mind, all of them requiring medical attention. “Did you poison me?”
Piper meets my glare with a meme-worthy eye roll. “Only if you’re allergic to ranch dressing mix.”
I don’t get what she means by mix , but I know there’s no bottle of ranch dressing in my fridge. I hate the stuff. Does she remember that?
Not the point right now.
I shake my head, clearing it of any other questions besides the most important one. “Are we even now?”
I expect Piper to meet my snort with a yes. What I get is a dark glower. She stands, keeping me trapped in her mesmerizing stare the entire time she walks toward me.
“I’m only getting started, Archie,” she growls before planting her hands on the counter opposite me and leaning closer, all while not breaking eye contact.
“Sign that deed, so I don’t have to make your life miserable the way you have mine.
You didn’t pay for this house. You have a dozen others you could live in, and Mom deserves more than betrayal for putting up with Malcolm for ten years. ”
Her eyes flicker with a searing amber that sends a prickle of heat over my skin. “I’m not signing the deed until I’m good and ready. I’m not scared of you, Piper.”
That last part is a complete and utter lie. Judging by the smirk on her face, she knows it.
“You should be.” She pushes away from the island and saunters past me. “If you think tampering with your smoothie is bad, you may want to consider carefully everything you do today. And tomorrow. And for the next eleven days. You should be very, very scared.”
Her menacing voice simultaneously freezes me in place while also sending blood burning through my veins. Fear? Excitement? I’m not entirely sure. I can’t move until I hear her on the stairs. Even then, I wait until I’m sure she’s not coming back down before I dart to the table.
She’s left her smoothie behind, and I drink it down in two gulps. I look at the spot where she’d been standing and swipe the back of my hand across my mouth.
“Delicious.”
The smoothie is good, too.