Chapter 1 #3
They’ve been slowly erasing us for decades.
Making it hard for our residents to live here, depleting our population.
Hell, we can’t even put Sanoa Bay on the address anymore; it’s all technically absorbed into the St. Carmen collective.
We still call ourselves Bay, though, and so do they. They want our land; they don’t want us.
I guess that’s why I love summers the most, because almost all the rich pricks of St. Carmen are out of town once storm season starts, their white mansions empty.
The rain-covered streets sound a little quieter, and it’s a short break from collecting the one thing I want that money can’t buy. Spoiled souls.
It really never gets old, but it’s time to focus on other things for the summer.
Cutting a left, I catch the lamplight of Marymount Academy peeking through the trees. I make my way into the circular drive, veering to the side of the building. Movement catches my eye, and I spot three girls in shorts and tank tops playing around on the lacrosse field.
Back when Liv attended school here, I showed up to support her games only so I could scope out my next conquest in the stands.
The students, who will soon be on their way to Europe or some summerhouse in Newport, notice me and stop moving in the middle of the dark grass.
Then the girl lying on the field, propped up on her elbows, curls her fingers in a suggestive little wave. The others break into laughter.
Jesus. No one who knows me thinks I should be around teenagers, but I give myself some credit now. Saints that age are just a cause for pity.
Their lives will be a pristine cage lined with chinchilla and happy pills. The most destructive thing I could do to them is give them a book.
Taking out my keys, I tap my wrist that doesn’t have a watch and then unlock the door to the school building. I don’t give a shit if they’re on school property after hours, but the cameras are watching, and I need to look like I’m telling them to go home.
“Have a good summer!” one of them sings, followed by a laugh.
“We won’t tell if you won’t, Mr. Jaeger,” another one taunts.
Stepping inside, I slam the door. Mr. Jaeger. It still sounds foreign, as if I’m in trouble instead of in a position of respect.
Silence and blackness envelop me, and I close my eyes for a second, sinking into a world that belongs only to me. At least at this time of night.
I may never have watched Liv’s games while she went here, but I really do fucking love this place.
I start walking, down a hall, then another one, letting my eyes wander through the windows of all the classroom doors and over the walls lined with framed photographs of prestigious alumni.
There’s something about being in a school I didn’t get until a couple of years ago.
The books full of words and ideas, the computers with their programs and fast technology, the desks with their journals, the lockers with their secrets and stolen items and the occasional hidden flask…
Everything here is so personal. More so even than in a home, because we don’t hide our shame close to those who love us.
We hide our needles in haystacks. A lot has happened in this place, and I’d love to hear these fuckin’ walls talk more than the walls in any house.
I walk along the atrium, which is located at the center of the school and filled with trees, flowers, and palms swaying in the fresh air carrying in from the open roof high above.
The red tiles under me have been swept of their usual petals and leaves; the gothic arches and columns around the square courtyard seem to move with the shadows of the clouds floating over the moon.
Heading straight, toward the stairs, I grab the banister and twist my head left. Four figures loom at the next corner of the atrium.
My heart thumps in my chest, and I pause, staring at their dark forms. Although I can’t make out their faces or even determine the color of their suits, they’ve noticed me and are now intent on my direction.
I drift my eyes over each man, seeing one holding his hand to his mouth like he’s working a toothpick, one tapping a cigarette, another just standing there, and one facing straight toward me, hands in his pockets.
I have no idea who they are, but if there’s one thing you learn, growing up in the Bay, it’s that men whose shoes shine like that are used to being just about anywhere they want. Even if the shoes are fucking ugly.
I leave it alone. Leaping up to the steps, I take them two at a time, climbing to the second floor.
Heading through the open door to room 244, I leave the lights off and walk to my desk.
I don’t turn on my computer. I don’t play music.
I just open a drawer and pluck my phone out of my pocket, dropping it inside.
Closing it, I plant my fists on the desktop and bow my head, letting out a long breath.
Four years ago, my oldest brother fell in love and after that our lives were never the same. The Jaegers finally started having conversations, because until we could figure out a way to make the Bay too valuable for St. Carmen to take away from us, we’d have to make ourselves valuable instead.
Macon’s instructions were clear. Go on the offense. We would strategically place ourselves in positions of influence around St. Carmen.
One of us would be a cop. One in city council. One, a teacher, and one in real estate.
Another would control liquor distribution, and another would put Sanoa Bay on the social media map. You know, just in case we need to amplify threats to our community.
And then one…
I shake my head, unable to hold back the smile.
Well, one would be a…
Fuck, I can’t even say it out loud, it’s so ridiculous.
So, yeah, that covered just about everyone. Five brothers, one sister, one wife, and Clay, my sister’s girlfriend—fiancée—would bury the dead. Another indispensable position in a community. She studied mortuary science.
I thought for sure I’d be the cop or the one controlling the alcohol, but Army’s incessant search for a Saint to mother his five-year-old son prompted Macon to think he wasn’t the best one to be around a staff of largely female St. Carmen teachers.
And Trace and Liv weren’t giving up their dreams, and I didn’t have any, so…
At twenty-five, it does feel good to have a career, though. My siblings range in age from thirty-five to twenty-two, and every single fucking one of us lives in the home our ancestors built over in the Bay. It’s nice to have this space to myself and be the king of this particular castle.
And oh, am I. One year of teaching under my belt, I happily accepted an offer to teach summer school, too. I like it here.
“Hi.”
I lift my head and catch sight of a man leaning into my doorframe.
My blood rushes hot, filling my ears, and I can’t hear the air conditioners anymore as I stare into the darkest blue eyes I can ever remember seeing. Ones I haven’t seen for four long years.
Of course, I can’t tell they’re blue from this distance, but they look how they always looked in the dark.
With his shoulder pressed into the wood and one hand in his pocket, his gaze seems to dance under those golden blond brows, a shade deeper than his hair.
I dig my knuckles into my desktop.
I should’ve known he was one of the suits downstairs. I knew he’d show up at one point. It’s been four years. He would’ve graduated college by now.
Rising up and straightening my spine, I can’t tell yet if I’m still the taller man.
Callum Ames quirks a smile. “I honestly expected you to wrap a hand around my neck,” he says, adding under his breath, “Again.”
I turn the page of my lesson planner to the new week. “But we can’t avoid each other forever…”
His chin dips, his eyes still locked on mine. “No.”
I can’t avoid him at all. He’s an alumnus of Marymount Academy, where I now work.
And that little pseudo–Skull & Bones gathering I interrupted downstairs was no doubt a Ministry meeting.
Now that Callum has finished college, I’m guessing, he’ll take his place among other boosters—and probably the board of trustees—who really make the decisions about who will teach their children and what they’ll learn.
And who attends this school.
There are many members—all alums—spanning a few generations, but the majority will have left town for the summer by now, and others limit their participation to simply making donations and casting the occasional vote.
It’s the younger men enjoying their newfound power trip who take a more active role.
And it’s all men, no women, even though the school is coed. That’s the way it started more than a hundred years ago, and they’re big on tradition in St. Carmen.
They meet when any topics come up for discussion or decisions need to be made regarding the landscape of the school. The faculty, admissions, construction, renovations, publicity, curriculum…
But this has never been primarily a place of education. It’s a kingdom that keeps the young in the social circles of their parents’ choice, creating a network of relationships the students can call upon down the road in their financial and political careers.
His presence here isn’t a surprise. We expected as much when we put our plans in place.
But still, I have to force my breathing to slow so he doesn’t hear it. He’s changed.
I let my gaze drop down his form, noticing the broader chest, the fucking perfect cut of his black three-piece suit and midnight-blue shirt.
He takes me in as well, and I think I almost see a glint in his eyes when he notices the grease on my white sleeves, a few smudges on my forearms. You’ll never get the Bay off me.
Finally, he turns away, inhaling sharply as he surveys my classroom. “My stepsister tells me how much she loves this room.” He pushes off the doorframe, gesturing to enter. “May I?”
Fuck off.
I won’t say that, though. Not yet. He’s essentially my boss. This whole town is.