CHAPTER SEVEN - COOPER

 

 

The boat is loud and the engine whines as I increase the throttle. I have five fucking minutes to get her in that room and send my father a picture and I’m not going to make it.

I wish I could say I didn’t care. I wish I could say he can’t control me like this.

But it would be a lie.

We’re crossing the lake going ninety and the water is a little bit choppy, so we bounce into the waves. Cadee squeals each time. Lars and Ax are yelling. Enjoying themselves.

Why can’t I let it roll off me the way they do? Why do I always get so invested in things?

This is all part of his plan. I don’t know what his end game is yet, but everything about this day is part of his plan.

Maybe he’s infatuated with Cadee?

I mean, she’s not bad-looking. She’s actually kinda… cute. I guess. Not sultry and dark like Mona. Not confident and bitchy like Isabella. Who, by the way, I need to get in touch with about dinner tonight. Cadee’s not even really bookish and quiet the way… well, I’m sure High Court has some bookish, quiet girls around here somewhere. I just don’t know their names.

Cadee is a little mixture of all three.

She has lived through some dark times. No doubt. I’ve seen that first-hand.

And she’s got a mouth on her when you piss her off. So even though she pretends to be all bookish and quiet—spying on students from the safety of the woods all these years—she’s not.

It’s an act.

She doesn’t belong here and everyone knows it.

If she had gone to Prep like the rest of us, instead of being homeschooled by her mother all these years, she would’ve adapted. Conformed to one group or the other. She would know her place.

But she didn’t go to Prep. And she doesn’t know her place.

And yet she is here. Has always been here.

She’s moving into my house today. Like… what the fuck?

Why?

Maybe that’s what my father wants? To put her in her place?

I would be more than happy to knock Cadee Hunter down a few rungs. She holds a secret of mine. And even though outsiders think that money is what drives us, that’s simply not true.

Secrets. That’s the currency of the über-rich. We deal in secrets.

And she’s flush with secrets right now.

This has to be why my father has taken such an interest in her. There is no other logical explanation for why he’s keeping her around and forcing me to stay here this summer.

He has a secret of mine now too.

He knows. He has to know.

I swing the boat sideways and splash what amounts to a small tidal wave over the dock out in front of our family mansion. Lars jumps out before we’ve even settled, and Ax hands him the rope to tie up the boat.

I turn and point to Cadee. “Do not give me any trouble. Hear me? Let’s go.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but I grab her by the arm and tug her to the side of the boat. Lars reaches for her, pulls her out, and then we’re walking down the dock towards the house.

The side of the mansion facing Monrovian Lake is technically considered the back of the house, but it’s really the only side that counts. The only side people can see. The side meant to impress. And in that respect, it does its job.

The Valcourt Mansion was first built in 1821. Of course, it didn’t look like this. I’ve seen photographs from as far back as 1832 and while I’m sure it was nice for the time, I would not call it stylish—an imposing Tudor made of dark gray stone with the characteristic half-timbers on the second floor filled in with dark gray stucco.

I love this house. I have always loved this house. And when I was a kid it made me feel like a king—or at least a prince—because the elaborate gables, severely-pitched roofline, arched doorways, and stone chimneys really do make it look like a castle.

The real front of the house is on the other side facing the narrow black-top road that weaves through the forest of old sugar maples and tall tulip trees. But this is a gated neighborhood of only two dozen sprawling mansions that all face the lake like our place. So no one gets to see that side, except for the kids in the club.

I drag Cadee through the high archway that leads to the main door and hold it open to let everyone pass through before closing it behind me.

“This way,” I say, once again grabbing Cadee by the upper arm. I’m late. There’s no way to fix that. I just want to tick this task off my list and forget about Cadee Hunter until I’m forced to consider her again.

I drag her down the long hallway that leads to the guest suite at the end of the southeast wing and then throw open the door to the suite and shove her inside.

“Stand right here.” I push her until she’s in the middle of the room and then take out my phone to snap a pic. I send it to my father via text message.

He replies a few seconds later with the message: That took forty-seven minutes.

I don’t reply. Fuck him. Deed done. Task over. “Listen to me very carefully, Cadee Hunter.”

She’s looking around the room. Taking it all in. But when I snap at her, she finds my gaze. “What?”

I point at her. “Stay here. Do not leave this room. If I see you in the hallways, or the kitchen, or anywhere inside my fucking house but this room right here, I will end you. Understand me?” I don’t wait for her answer. I just turn around and start heading back to the other side of the house.

Ax and Lars didn’t follow us. They’re probably in the kitchen.

“Wait!” Cadee calls. “What am I supposed to do here?”

“Don’t ask me,” I growl. “You’re not my problem anymore.”

“Cooper!” My brother Dane’s voice bellows through the house.

“Shit,” I whisper. I stop in the hallway and look back at Cadee. “Do not fucking move. Do you hear me?”

She looks… scared. Terrified, actually. The reality of her situation finally kicking in. But she nods, suddenly compliant.

“Close the door, stay quiet, and do not leave that room.”

She nods again. And she closes the door.

The lock is clicking when Dane rounds the far corner of the hallway. “There you are. What are you doing here? I thought you were on your way to… where were you going again?”

“Fuck you. Go home, Dane. Your wife is waiting.” I make sure to bump his chest with my shoulder as I pass and then head towards the kitchen to find Lars and Ax.

“Hey. I’m talking to you.” Dane catches up with me and grabs me by the arm. Exactly the way I was grabbing Cadee.

I stop and look down at his hand. Then my eyes track up to his face. We’re the same height now. I finally caught up to him. Dane and Jack are only one year apart so they have always been equals. But I am three years younger than Dane and four years younger than Jack. And while Jack and I have always gotten along, things between Dane and I have never been equal.

Middle-child syndrome?

No. He’s just an asshole.

He doesn’t let go of my arm even though he must surely see the anger in my eyes. “Why are you here?”

“Ask Dad.” I pull my arm out of his grip and turn back towards the kitchen.

But he grabs me again. And this time I don’t hold it in. I let that anger out through the end of my fist. It crashes into his face, and then we are in a full-on brawl right there in the hallway.

He grabs me around the middle, hoists me up, and then throws me down onto the dark-gray slate floor so hard, I think the slate tile cracks underneath me.

He’s swinging at my face and I’ve got my hands around his throat, ready to choke him unconscious if I have to, when Lars and Ax appear and start pulling us apart.

I get to my feet first because Dane is too busy trying to swing at Ax, but Ax won’t take that shit and he swings back, chopping Dane in the throat so hard, he stumbles backwards gasping for air.

We watch him for a few moments, all of us waiting it out to see if he’s really gonna die from that blow, or just cough and wheeze his way into submission and eat his humiliation.

It’s the latter. Thank God. Because if he truly needed saving, I don’t think I would do it.

“You’re gonna… pay… for that.” Dane croaks the words out between gasps of air and points to Ax with an accusatory finger while his other hand holds on to his throat like that’s gonna help.

Ax makes a move, always up for some violence. But Lars and I pull him back. “Fuck you, Dane,” Ax spits. “Any time you want more of this, you let me know.”

Dane looks at me as I push Lars and Ax back towards the kitchen. “You’re gonna pay for that too. I know what you were doing last night. I know more about you than you think, Christopher.”

“Right back at you,” I snarl. I back away. I’m not afraid of him. We can do this all day if he wants. But I’m not about to turn my back on this asshole. “I’m here. Under Dad’s orders. So if you don’t like it? You take it up with him. Otherwise you better keep your distance from me. I’m not that kid you used to beat up anymore. And trust me, brother. You’ve got payback coming.”

He glares at me, then squints a little, maybe trying to figure if that threat is real or not. But the important thing is that he says nothing. So I just back around the hallway where Ax and Lars are waiting.

We walk backwards a few paces, waiting to see if Dane will follow us. He stops in the entrance to the hall we’re standing in, wipes some blood off his lip and says, “You better watch your backs.” But then he continues down the hallway towards the other side of the house and disappears from view.

We turn and walk towards the kitchen.

“Jesus Christ.” Lars laughs. “You two haven’t changed a bit.”

“Watch my back?” Ax seethes. “I fucking hate that asshole. He better watch his back.”

I pace the length of the kitchen, which is located on my end of the great room that faces the lake. One side is all high-end industrial appliances, black soapstone countertops, and gray cabinets and the other side is the sitting area with a massive stone fireplace flanked on either side by built-in bookshelves with several seating areas in the middle.

There is an entrance to the main part of the house on either side of this room. And that’s what I’m focused on as I pace. Checking to make sure that Dane doesn’t go back to the wing where I put Cadee.

He doesn’t. And finally, after about ten minutes of this—long after Ax and Lars have made themselves at home with snacks and are watching a baseball game on the huge ninety-eight-inch TV mounted over the fireplace—I hear the front door slam and I take a seat in a chair.

I sit on something, realize it’s the glossy blue and gold folder my father gave me, and pull it out of my back pocket.

“What’s in there?” Ax says, stuffing cheese puffs in his mouth.

I slap the folder onto the coffee table in front of me, then smooth the crease down and open it up. Lars plops down on the couch opposite the table and Ax joins him.

We study the papers.

“Well, this doesn’t look good,” Lars says, probably thinking about our own rush three years ago.

It was a fucking nightmare. Dane was running it that year. He was King and I was just a little princeling who needed to be put in his place.

“No,” I agree. “It doesn’t.”

Ax leans back into the couch cushions with a sigh. “I thought that shit was behind us.”

“Apparently not.”

“So where’s Cadee fit in?” Lars asks, taking the folder and shuffling through the papers.

“I think she works for us. Kitchen help? I think.”

“Oh, hell yeah.” Ax perks up. “I’m gonna have some fun with that little tart this summer. If I have to be stuck here, I will make everyone pay for it. It’s gonna be senior year of high school all over again.”

Lars chuckles, then slides the packet over to me. “Could be fun. How many?”

I pick up the folder and scan the names of the incoming college freshmen. “Dude. Mona is on here.”

“Ah,” Ax guffaws. “So that’s why her ass was dragged back too. Good. I’m glad. She deserves a summer like that.”

But Lars laughs. “Mona? A Swan? That’s hilarious. Whose practical joke is that?”

I laugh too. Can’t help it. The Swans are the Feather side of the Fang and Feather Secret Society at High Court College. The Fangs are… well. Us. The Kings. “That’s actually funny,” I say. “She’s probably sitting next door right now going, ‘Ax, Lars, and Cooper? Kings? Never!’”

We all laugh. We have to laugh. It’s the only way to cope with the punishment we’ve just been handed.

Then, as if on cue, Lars and I both look down at our bare chests, both of our shirts lost some time during the Cadee Hunter kidnapping. We have the same huge tattoo spanning the entire width from pec to pec. A double lion rampant—mouths open, hind legs clawing at the enemy, facing each other—with the High Court coat of arms between them.

It’s all very… whatever. Ruling class? Pretentious? Necessary? All of the above, I suppose. Because secrets, man. They make the world go round.

Even though it’s called Fang and Feather, there’s a subgroup called Fang and Claw for men only. Then the girls—the Swans—they have their own little club within the society too. We call that Wing and Feather. Their mascot is a swan with upstretched wings and long, arched neck.

Fang and Feather is secret only for what’s kept inside the tomb out in the woods, because everyone at High Court College knows this society exists.

I’m already a member. Technically. And so are Lars and Ax. But initiation is a full, four-year process and you’re only truly inducted—meaning you don’t get access to any real society secrets—until after graduation in senior year when you go through the final rite of passage.

Which, for us, is next spring. And that’s something I do not want to think about.

Lars blows out a breath. “It’s only eight weeks. We’ll have almost a whole month at the end to do something fun.”

Ax sneers at him. “Always Mr. Brightside.”

“What else are we gonna do?” Lars says. “Might as well make it a glass-half-full kinda thing.”

“We should’ve just… pretended. Ya know?” I look at Lars and Ax. Picture all the ways we’ve been rebelling against our lot in life through the years.

Ax and his violence and drugs. He’s been in rehab six times since he was thirteen. Only two of them were actually about the drugs. The rest were just a way out of juvenile lockup, thanks to his father, the Judge. He’s clean for now. But for how long?

Lars and his suicidal antics. He’s been in the hospital for dirt bike stunts, jumping into pools from third-floor rooftops, and waterskiing wipeouts more times than I can count.

Me and my careless indifference about… well, pretty much everything. Grades, people… sex.

“That’s why we’re here,” I say. “We should’ve played the game from the beginning. Kept our heads down, did what they wanted, and then we’d be free now. They would’ve just assumed we’d go along in the end.”

“Fuck that,” Lars says. “We’d be in deeper.”

“Yeah,” Ax agrees. “We’d have fallen for it. We’d have given in by now if we’d played the game. Just like everyone else.”

“But now they have their eye on us,” I counter. “We’ve done nothing but put a target on our backs.”

“We just do the job,” Lars says, sighing. “Be the bully kings and in eight weeks they’ll have their new crop of minions and we can take off for a little bit. Then one more year, you guys. One more year and we get the trusts. Then we’re free.”

Ax and I both look at each other.

We don’t believe it.

Oh, that’s the stipulation in the contracts. All we gotta do is graduate High Court College as members in good standing of Fang and Claw and we get the money.

But it’s just never that easy.

It won’t be that easy.