Chapter 18
Callum
Looking up, I see movement through his window. Sophia is painting, and I think when she’s done, she’ll start all over just to stay in his classroom.
It really pisses me off that she likes him so much.
I did once, too. When he’s had enough, or when the real world creeps in and it stops being a hundred percent fun for him, he jumps ship. I’m not going to delude myself this time.
I stayed celibate—not sleeping with a single person in the years since him—because I wanted to stay angry.
I feared falling in love with someone else at college would dull my fury, and if I came back only to act like none of it ever happened, then how could I ever trust myself to never let someone walk all over me again?
I needed to prove that everyone pays a price, so I did everything necessary to keep my focus sharp.
But the wheels have started to turn, and I’m over him now. I got what I wanted—I challenged myself and confirmed that my heart is harder. He doesn’t control me anymore. I grew up.
That doesn’t mean he won’t be back in my bed when I want. He still owes me.
Glancing around, I see that his car sits in the lot, but Anna-Katherine called me an hour ago to let me know their day was done. I think he doesn’t like to leave her here alone and wants to make sure I know she can leave when she’s ready.
But that unbidden voice creeps into my head, telling me that maybe he doesn’t mind running into me. That he’s welcoming me to come and fetch her, and I can look into those eyes of his.
Excitement lingers inside me as I’m sure it always will. No matter how much of an asshole he is. No matter how many times I already replayed in my head the hours in bed with him Friday night.
I have to hand it to him. His enthusiasm is a good act. I almost believed he enjoyed it. I wish I hadn’t. He’s arrogant enough to think fucking me good will make me more agreeable. It won’t.
I’m just glad he didn’t press about Sophia. It seemed like he saw her anxiety attack. I don’t know if he saw me singing to her, but I can’t let him find a way to use her against me.
A few remaining students drift to their cars, and I walk around the courtyard, lockers slamming shut.
“Why are you dressed like it’s winter?” a small voice teases.
Dipping my gaze, I notice Savanna Winslow with her arms wrapped around her laptop and a book. Her purse hangs off her shoulder. Her long auburn hair is a blanket of loose waves, and freckles cover her face beautifully. I’ve known her all her life.
“The black matches my mood,” I say.
“Not that it doesn’t look great,” she explains, “but show off your arms, my man.”
I chuckle. Yes, short sleeves are in order. And shorts.
But I dressed down today, working from home, and everything I have for summer is blue or white. Black and long sleeves are more intimidating. To my father if he shows up. To Dallas. To my friends.
I need to go shopping. The black track pants, polo, and quarter zip fit, but I’m fucking roasting.
“How’s your sister?” I ask.
I don’t really care. I haven’t talked to Austyn since we graduated, but it’s how Savanna remembers me. The guy who dated her sister for two seconds.
“She’s getting married,” she sighs.
“Give her my congratulations.”
A silence falls as she walks beside me. I’m going to the school’s tower, where the administrative offices are. She can’t follow me in.
When I glance down again, she’s twisting her lips to the side. “They’ll be living here in the winters.”
Her vibe gives me pause. “Do you like him?”
“Not as much as I would’ve liked you marrying her,” she tells me.
“It wasn’t that serious.”
Austyn was one of many girls I flirted with back when I was trying to prove that I liked females.
We made out. I fingered her. It took another couple of years, though, before I faced the fact that I’d marry for children and the Christmas card pictures, but I’d be finding pleasure in the beds of discreet men instead.
She matches my steps, but her eyes stare at the floor.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Peering up at me, she inquires, “Do you think I look like her?”
Like Austyn?
“Too bad I won’t be eighteen for another thirty months,” she goes on. “If I could tell people I was dating you, it would give me some space.”
I stop and face her. “What are you talking about?”
She’s, like, fifteen. Why would she want a place mat boyfriend? Like she’s trying to scare off suitors or something.
She shakes her head. “Nothing.” She backs away, heading the way we just came. “Later!”
I open my mouth to stop her, but she quickly disappears around a corner.
What the hell was that?
But it doesn’t take long for my imagination to get to work.
After Sophia, I saw that the very fabric of this town has been ripped apart by all the lies, predators, and lack of accountability.
I don’t know if Savanna’s getting unwanted attention from her future brother-in-law or she knows about the Wolfe Room or both.
Our parents thought they did such a good job, hiding their deviancy, but we all knew what was going on.
And the idea hits me.
We could have dorms built in a year. By the time she’s a junior, she could be living at school, away from the adults. And then she’d be off to college.
I rub my jaw. “Fuck.”
That’s a good idea.
We could increase attendance from out of state that way as well. It would increase jobs, more revenue for the community, we could cast a wider net for athletic recruiting…
I know why no one ever did it before. Our fathers like it small in St. Carmen. It’s easier to control when we can slowly assimilate strangers.
It’s been small long enough, though, and some men have been calling the shots for too long.
I need to think.
We need to acquire as much land around the school as possible, first and foremost.
Climbing the steps, I charge through the alumni office, past the secretary, and into the library.
“I don’t have all night.” I close the door. “Let’s get started.”
Vincent and Jerome sit at the circular table, Milo swirling a glass of liquor in front of the fireplace. It’s never cold enough to use. There are books stacked against the bricks instead of logs.
“We’ve been here,” Vincent gripes.
I remove my Braves cap and pour a glass of water. There should be several others at the table, but they’re traveling. Normally, Ministry meetings are canceled over the summer, but we have our own agenda anyway. We don’t want them here.
“Three people from Sanoa Bay were arrested over the weekend,” Jerome tells us. “No retaliation or response from the Bay.”
“I would imagine Macon’s hearing plenty,” Vincent jokes. “He’ll resign himself to dealing with us eventually.”
I was out of town with Sophia, but I kept abreast of those breaking curfew. They were released this morning. It was enough to inconvenience them, and I’m sure the Jaegers are hearing about their husbands being locked up for two days.
Taking a long drink, I set the glass down and let them follow me to the shelves.
We drift through the long aisles of tall bookcases and the assortment of texts donated by Constantine Carter in 1922.
Various members of the Ministry throughout the decades have added their own selections to it, the collection expanding to house more than nine thousand volumes.
“And what do we want?” Jerome tips a book forward to lie on its spine. “Coastline?”
“Nothing.” I grab another text, pulling it down as well. “We’re not dealing with them at all. We keep digging in and adding weight, and when they start jumping ship, we go harder until they’re gone.”
I want to catch one of the Jaegers. It really shouldn’t have taken this long. Trace Jaeger has that bar open till 2:00 a.m., but he’s been crashing there till curfew ends.
Dallas and Iron live to break rules. I’m surprised they haven’t been more “adventurous.”
Not to mention every other waitress and teenage punk who likes to come over to steal our shit and loiter around the ice cream stands and the movie house.
“Their drive-in goes first.” Milo walks past me. “I want a hotel, a convention center, and a seaside arena.”
My eyes meet Jerome’s, and I don’t know what we’re saying exactly, but we seem to be in agreement.
Jerome moves one way down the aisle and I move the other, turning the corner. “We bulldoze everything,” I state, tipping down another book.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” I hear Jerome ask.
I narrow my eyes but just for a second. I don’t like that he seems to have a read on me I barely recognize myself.
“Not the lighthouse.” I drift along the shelves, hearing my friends select their volumes. “We can keep that.”
It’s a historical landmark, after all. And aesthetically pleasing.
I see On the Shortness of Life by Lucius Annaeus Seneca. I touch my finger to the top of the spine, pulling it toward me.
“The cemetery,” Jerome adds. “You’ll need to find a solution for that.”
Plucking the text off the shelf completely, I fan the pages of the old edition, the entire thing no thicker than a comic book.
“It dates back to the late fifteen hundreds,” Jerome informs me. “The city won’t want it decimated. The fucking Jaegers have never let us in to excavate anything or at least research the headstones. There could be some of our ancestors there, too, for Christ’s sake.”
I’m not keeping the cemetery. It can be moved.
Or better yet, a whole mausoleum for them at the cemetery in St. Carmen. It would be a lot cheaper.
“Are we keeping nothing?” Vincent finally speaks up.
I walk, tossing him a glance.
He shrugs. “I like Mariette’s.”
We’ll build new restaurants. She can cook there.
“Callum’s father wants it all,” Milo tells him.
I pass a bust of someone without a nameplate. I’m not even sure if it’s a St. Carmen citizen. They probably put it here because it looks prestigious.
“How did it go in the Wolfe Room?” Milo asks me.
I stare at the statue’s strong nose, sharp jaw…“None of your business.”
It’s not that I’m embarrassed that I still haven’t screwed anyone in there, but I don’t care to have a conversation about Dallas. Jerome was there, so I can’t lie about anything.