Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
AUGUST
M y head is pounding when I crack open my eyes and I immediately close them, pissed that the curtains somehow got left open last night and now all of this fucking sunlight is spilling into the room. My eyelids ache as I try and keep my eyes shut, and with a groan I roll over on my side, everything from last night coming at me all at once.
The party. The scotch. The fucking girl. The puking.
Not my best moment.
I haven’t lost control over myself like that in a long time, if ever. I blame the woman. She had me thinking crazy shit. Like she was the love of my life. Please. No more indulging in thirty-year-old scotch for me.
Eventually I pull myself out of bed and shuffle into the bathroom. Take a piss and then wash my hands, peering at my reflection in the mirror. I look like absolute shit. Bloodshot eyes, and scruff covering my cheeks and jaw. My hair is a nightmare and I push it away from my face, leaning over the counter to examine myself even closer. I swear my skin is a little green and I rub at my cheek. Slap it a little even but I remain as pale as a ghost. A ghost with a hint of green.
My stomach roils and I rest my hand over it, worried I might throw up again, but the moment passes. I strip off my clothes and take a long shower, standing under the hot spray of water for far too long. Once I’m dried off and I’ve brushed my teeth, I’m back in the bedroom, standing in front of my dresser about to grab a pair of boxer briefs when I realize there’s a message written on my mirror in lipstick. Yolanda’s lipstick.
Fuck right off, August Lancaster! You’re a complete dick!
xo,
Sin
I can’t help it—I start to laugh. What kind of message is that? I thought she liked me? Though she did have a touch of hostility to her there at the end. Was she pissed because I was drunk? She had to be too.
Standing in my room naked, I swear I can still smell her. That sweet, rich scent of her perfume. I can see her too. Her beautiful face and that infuriated expression on it when she out of nowhere hurled that fucking lipstick straight at me. What if it had hit me in the face? She could’ve done some real damage because she threw that thing hard.
Once I’m dressed, I grab my phone and start a simple search, entering her name. I’ve got far more extensive programs and apps on my laptop that can dig up information on pretty much anyone in the entire world, but as Sin said last night, I do like the mystery of it all. The mystery of her.
The information pops up quickly, but it’s not much. There is one thing that shocks me though, and it’s the words, Sinclair Miller graduated Lancaster Prep …
What the hell?
I immediately call my sister who is the biggest gossip in the land and also two years younger than me and with a better memory. And it’s not that I have a bad memory about high school. It’s more that I choose to remember certain things and forget everything else because those things—people, moments, etc.—aren’t worth storing in my memory banks for later.
“Augie! How are you?” Iris picks up on the fourth ring, right as I’m about to end the call and I can hear her baby screaming in the background.
“What the hell is wrong with that child?” I mutter, wincing at the piercing wails coming from my niece.
“She’s hungry and you’re interrupting us,” Iris explains. The baby’s crying gets louder and Iris is shushing her as she fumbles around with something—God, is she going to drop her own daughter? Until finally the baby goes completely silent and Iris sighs in relief. “Ah, now we can talk in peace.”
“Are you feeding her with a bottle?” I ask hopefully. I don’t like the thought of my sister with her tits out, nursing the monster known as Astrid because that is an image I don’t ever need in my brain.
“No, silly. I’m doing it like the cavewomen did back in the Stone Age. It’s free milk, why wouldn’t I feed my baby with it?” Iris laughs, knowing just how to get under my skin and it works.
“Heathen.”
“Puritan,” she tosses back gleefully. “Why are you calling? I know it’s not to check up on me.”
“Are you implying I don’t care?”
She remains quiet and I swear I can hear that child of hers sucking noisily and God damn, I cannot take it. I almost end the call right there, but I’m too curious about Sinclair Miller to do it.
“I wanted to ask you if you remembered someone from high school,” I start and she interrupts me because truly, Iris is the most impatient person I know.
“I remember everyone from high school. You know this. Who are you asking about?”
“Her name is Sinclair Miller.” The silence that greets me is ice cold. I don’t even hear the baby feeding any longer and I feel like I just mentioned someone that is supposed to be dead. “Do you remember her?”
“Oh, I definitely do. Are you telling me that you don’t?” She sounds shocked. Even…amused?
“No.” I would remember a dark-haired beauty with golden eyes and a body that was meant to be worshiped like Sinclair. And that name. Sinclair. Sin. She is sin personified and how did I let her slip by me in the halls of Lancaster Prep without noticing? Was I that oblivious? “Was she in your class?”
No, of course she wasn’t. Sinclair is only eighteen. Unless she was lying to me. But why would she lie and say she was younger than she is? That makes no sense.
“She wasn’t. But August. She was…oh God, how do I say this? You know her.”
“I do?”
“Yes, you heartless jackass, you do. She was the girl you tormented your senior year. The flat-chested girl with the braces.” Iris makes a disapproving sound. “You were so awful to her. I tried to make you stop. I could see how much your words upset her, but you didn’t even care. I don’t know why you were so fixated on her. You were such a mean fucker back in high school.”
“I’m still a mean fucker,” I remind her.
A sigh leaves my sister and the baby makes a growling noise. That kid is savage. “I can’t believe you don’t remember her. You made it a point to torment her daily for the entirety of your senior year. Some of your shitty friends tried to keep it up after you graduated, but they eventually gave up because you were the true ringleader. Hopefully she had a more peaceful high school existence once that stopped.”
It comes back to me slowly. At the words flat-chested and braces. Sinclair Miller. I never knew her name, or if I did, I promptly forgot. I remember the first day of school and how she stared at me. The slight fear on her face with the defiant curl to her upper lip. Pathetic.
Intriguing.
I singled her out and targeted her because it was fun and she always had such a visceral reaction to my taunts. All of my friends thought I was hilarious anytime I provoked her. I made her life miserable and enjoyed every single second of it. Looks-wise, she wasn’t much then but I saw the potential. Sort of.
Things change. Flat-chested girls grow up and become gorgeous. Then get shitfaced with you and leave rude lipstick messages on your mirror.
“Did you run into her on campus? Did she want to lop your head off with a machete? Because that’s what I’d want to do if I were her,” Iris says with a laugh.
“I—yes. I ran into her.” My gaze returns to the message written on my mirror with lipstick. Yolanda’s lipstick. Our housemother is elegantly beautiful, but she’s fucking forty. I have zero interest in her and wonder sometimes why she puts up with us. But I also like how level-headed and calm she is, and she’s needed in this house. Her obsession with that damn lipstick she wears probably sent Sinclair into a fit when she saw it.
Didn’t help that I rambled about the woman I fucked a couple of nights ago. The one who I can’t remember? Just like I don’t recall Sinclair either?
Hell. She must think I’m an absolute monster.
“And did she slap you? I’m sure she’s been waiting for a moment like that for years.” Iris’s voice is full of relish. Like she can envision Sinclair slapping the shit out of me in public. I won’t tell her about the lipstick throwing. My sister would eat that up.
“No, she didn’t slap me.” I sound dazed and confused. I am dazed and confused. Seriously, how could she go from being an awkward, flat-chested freshman in high school to the beautiful woman that she is now? And how could she stand being in my presence knowing what I’d done to her?
“Where did you run into her anyway? Was it at a party? God, sometimes I feel like I’ve missed out on everything.” She starts cooing and I can tell she’s not talking to me anymore. She’s speaking to the nightmare that is Astrid. And she’s only a nightmare because she’s a defenseless little being who cries and eats and shits all the time. “But then I wouldn’t have you my little sunshine dollop of deliciousness now, would I? And how could I ever let go of your father and his magical dick?”
“Jesus, Iris.” I close my eyes, holding my phone in a death grip, pissed that she’d say something like that. “I don’t need to hear about Brooks and his dick.”
“It’s a good one though, Augie. I needed that reminder because every once in a while, I get a little itch. Like maybe I’m missing out on something better in life. But what’s better than a man who loves you and making a family with him?”
“It would’ve been better if you waited about ten years,” I tell her, but she just laughs.
“No regrets, August. That’s my motto and I stand by it. Don’t I, baby? Oh yes, I do. Yes, I do.”
I hear cooing noises and can tell they’re coming from my niece. Anyone else would think it’s sweet. I find it a complete distraction.
“Iris. Focus. Tell me everything you know about Sinclair.”
A long-suffering sigh leaves my sister. “Like I told you, I don’t know much beyond how you made her life a living hell your entire senior year for whatever reason, I’m still not sure. After you and your bully ass friends left, some of the younger guys tried to keep it up, but she’d lost the braces by then and got boobs. Eventually they became bored and left her alone.”
“What happened next?” I sound eager for any morsel of information and I clear my throat, reminding myself that I don’t care that much.
“I don’t know. She kind of faded into the background. I didn’t have any classes with her.”
“What about Rowan? Did he have classes with her?” I mention our cousin who also attended Lancaster Prep around the same time.
“I’m not sure. You should ask him.”
I end the call before she can say anything else and immediately call my cousin. He answers on the first ring.
“What the hell do you want on a Saturday morning?” He sounds grumpy but I’m guessing he’s not. He’s just being a typical Lancaster male.
“Greetings to you too, cousin.” I sound like a formal prick, but he wouldn’t expect anything less. “I have a question for you.”
“Hopefully I have an answer.”
I don’t bother with niceties or asking how he is. Rowan and I are cut from the same cloth and he wouldn’t expect me to ask those questions anyway. “Do you remember a girl at Lancaster Prep named Sinclair Miller? She’d be in the class before you, I think. You would’ve graduated a year after she did.”
“Sinclair Miller? Sounds vaguely familiar.”
“Have any classes with her? Any sort of interaction at all?”
“I don’t know…wait a minute. Bells is shouting.” The sound is muffled because I assume Row put his hand over the phone. “You knew her? Yeah?” His voice comes through crystal clear. “Bells remembers her. Wait—hold on.”
Arabella is on the phone in seconds, her sweet voice with the faint British accent making me smile despite my raging hangover and insane curiosity. “Sinclair Miller is a delightful girl who graduated the year before we did. I had her in a few classes. She’s very…determined.”
“Determined? How?”
“Intense. Smart. Has goals. I aspired to be her for about a minute my junior year and then realized it was a waste of my time. I’m not built like her. Not even close.” She pauses for only a moment. “Why are you asking anyway? Don’t tell me you’re interested in her.”
“Why do you say it like that?” I’m not interested. Not at all. Just curious. Puzzled by her willingly spending time with me last night. Even telling me about her bully who she said was dead to her—and it was me all along.
That makes no damn sense.
“Oh I know all about your ‘relationship’ with her. She would tell anyone willing to listen how August Lancaster made her freshman year a living hell.” Arabella makes a disgusted noise that has my heart shriveling. “You were cruel, August. I’m disappointed in you.”
Fuck. There’s probably no going back from this.