XXXVII
Syn
B irthdays are for the insecure and the poor.
The poor want things. The latest iPhone, a vacation, a new car…
The insecure want a day when they are the center of attention.
When I turned twenty-one, my trust fund was released. Around two hundred and fifty million—and a fraction of what the Keyingham legacy is worth. Even before that, there’s never been anything I’ve wanted that couldn’t be bought.
Almost everything has a price tag—even if you can’t see it.
This year, like last year, and the year before that, the only thing I wanted was JP back. And while money can own a life or take one, it can’t bring anyone back to life.
Attention is something I neither want nor crave. However, money attracts people. People without money seem to think being around those who do will somehow magic wealth to them. Those with money understand that money is power, and they’re attracted to those they think are like them.
My birthday party is nothing more than a facade.
I don’t care who’s here.
I don’t care what gets posted on social media—provided it’s nothing that will negatively impact the image of the future President of the United States.
I don’t even care if anyone is having a good time.
Nobody cares if I am.
My mother sent a text this morning to cancel our lunch plans. Originally, I was to join her and my father in New York at whatever restaurant she had chosen, but instead, my father has a meeting in D.C. that he can’t possibly miss.
At least I managed to escape that round of torture. Not least because I still haven’t disposed of Tori, like I was supposed to.
I’m not sure why I let Gemini convince me to let her stay longer. I suppose it’s giving her some false hope. Fucking idiot—does she really think she’s got a chance of passing her initiation?
If it wasn’t for this party, I’d hold the Inauguration Ceremony tonight and formally reject her in front of everyone. Not that I need to do that—I can kick her out of this house as easily as I allowed her in.
But the reason I let her come here, and the reason I let her become an initiate, hasn’t changed. I want her and her brother to feel the same soul crippling pain I do, and so far, I don’t think either have even come close to that.
There’s only one more week before finals. My father may have told me to get rid of her, but he didn’t say when. Sticking with my original timeframe makes more sense. It gives me more time to ensure that I properly destroy her.
If only I can come up with something spectacular for my finishing move.
Growing up, my father taught me the importance of being ruthless. Of finding a weakness and exploiting it. Age isn’t a restriction when it comes to hurting someone, and over the years, I know I’ve been able to ruin anyone who has gotten in my way.
So why the fuck am I struggling to come up with something fitting now?
“Cheer up, you miserable fucker,” Gemini says, thrusting a glass of whiskey towards me. “I’ve got a birthday surprise waiting for you in the Crypt.”
The church is packed tonight, and instead of DJing from the altar, the DJ has been relocated to the balcony above. Even from up there, the DJ is doing his thing, and has made sure the dance floor is only a couple more shots of liquor away from a writhing orgy.
Gifts are piled up on the altar behind me, though I’ve made no attempt to look at them. But if the surprise is already in the Crypt, that means Gemini’s gift is special.
Narrowing my eyes, I lean forward, spotting Tori lingering to the side. She’s wearing a silver dress that sparkles under the lights, clinging in all the right places. She could do with a couple more inches on her tits, but that dress looks good on her.
Then again, the dress was made with her measurements, so it’s more like the dress is making her look good…
“I found you some homeless guy who is ex-military,” Royal tells me as he steps into my line of site, narrowing his eyes. “But maybe we made the wrong call, and you’d rather fuck instead of fight.”
“Looking at her has the same effect as being castrated.”
“Speaking of flaccid dicks…” Gemini says, elbowing me.
Looking over Royal’s shoulder, I see Preston du Pont making a beeline towards me. All Elite parties have a standing invitation to all members—including those who have graduated—even if they never attend. Only this is my birthday party, not an Elite event…
“Happy birthday, Synclair,” Preston declares loudly over the music as he shakes my hand.
With a name like Preston du Pont, the guy should be small and weedy. The kind of guy who looks like an accountant with a British accent. Only, Preston is conventionally attractive enough that most of the women he’s walked past to get to me have turned their heads and are still staring at him.
“How long are you staying?” Gemini asks him.
Preston steps back, scanning the dark church as he shrugs. “I’m not sure yet.”
“Cool. I’m going to find some coke.” Gemini walks straight past us without looking back.
“Coke?” Preston arches an eyebrow like he’s never snorted a line before. “He graduates next year. He needs to be cutting back.”
“Was it party favors that brought you here?” I ask him.
“Just popping in to see how things are going,” Preston tells me. “Which is disappointingly as expected.” He looks at Tori and then beckons her over before I can stop him. “Champagne.”
Tori cocks her head, her blue hair spilling over her shoulder like a waterfall. “Excuse me?”
“Initiates are supposed to know their place,” Preston says, but he’s looking at me.
I lock eyes with Tori before nodding towards the bar. There’s a moment’s pause before she gives du Pont a smile and disappears without another word.
Preston turns his attention to Royal. “Maybe you should help her. She doesn’t strike me as someone who knows the difference between champagne and bottled piss.”
Royal flashes me an apologetic look before following after Tori.
“I believe you were given very specific instructions.”
I take a sip of the whiskey Gemini gave me before I turn to face Preston. “I’m flattered you came all this way to check up on me,” I say, dryly.
“I’m actually offended,” Preston tells me. “Because if I wanted to just check up on you, I could have read my messages. I’m not sure what’s been going through your head recently, if you think that having her here hasn’t caused waves of discord between current members. There’s more than one person, and not just juniors and sophomores, who still see me as their president.”
No one has been here long enough to still see him as their president.
“I’m here because I’m concerned about you.”
“ You are concerned about me?”
Preston nods. “JP was my best friend, and I promised him I’d look out for you. I’m here because of him, because if he knew you’d let his killer’s sister into this university, he’d be upset. But if he knew you were ignoring not only your father’s instructions—but those of the too—he’d be devastated.”
At the sound of my brother’s name, my grip on the glass tightens. The bandage has only just come off, so I force myself to relax and set the glass down behind me.
Preston had been friends with JP for as long as I’ve been friends with Royal and Gemini. He’s no stranger in my house, and until JP was killed, we used to get along. Until he changed.
I don’t need to pay a shrink to tell me he’s reminded of my brother every time he looks at me. Ever since I found out my father and the expect me to take JP’s place on the future presidential campaign, Preston has avoided me—as much as he could, considering we are both members of the Elite.
“I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t blame you, but having her here is dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” I arch an eyebrow. “What do you think she’s going to do?”
If she wanted me dead, she’s had ample opportunity to do so, but even if she did, the girl doesn’t have it in her.
“Synclair, your father may have told you to make sure she’s gone, but the order came from the . It doesn’t matter what we think she’s going to do, when you’re given an order, you follow it out.” As Tori and Royal appear from the crowd, Preston leans closer to me—not that anyone would be able to hear him over the music. “JP would be so disappointed in you.”
Preston might as well have stuck his hand straight into my chest and squeezed at my heart. Rarely am I at a loss for words, but all I can do is stare at him as he walks up to Tori, takes the champagne flute from her, and then disappears onto the dancefloor.
With concern lining his features, Royal hurries over. “You okay? What did he say to you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m done.”
“Done? What do you mean, done?”
“With this bullshit party. I’m leaving.”
Royal frowns. “You sure? Maybe beating the shit out of someone will help?”
Ten minutes ago, maybe. Right now, I want to be alone.
Ignoring Royal, I walk over to Tori, grabbing her wrist. Without pausing, I make my way to the door, dragging her behind me as I weave through the dancing bodies. There are still crowds of people hanging around the doorway, but it’s starting to snow, so most are huddled close to the door.
“Syn, where are we going?” Tori asks, trying to pull her wrist free of my grip.
I don’t let go until we’re at the golfcart. “Drive.”