He laughs, but it’s a bit more subdued than before. Like, maybe his ego is slightly wounded with whatever he thinks he knows about this whole West situation. I’ve been super cold toward Ricky these past few months, so there’s some guilt lurking beneath the surface, prompting me to ease up a little.
“It’s not like … whatever they’re trying to portray. Trust me,” is all I say, but I leave out the part about those bastards separating me from the herd to threaten me.
I don’t need Ricky’s pity or whatever reaction he might have. My problems are not his problems, despite what he thinks.
“If you say so,” he replies with a slick grin, like he thinks there’s more to this story. I suppose there is, but it’s nothing like what he’s imagining.
“I’m not talking to you about this,” I say, shutting down that portion of the conversation.
There’s a brief standoff where I feel him wanting to press, but he refrains, which is lucky for me. Instead, he changes the subject, but of course he brings up the one other thing I refuse to discuss with him.
“Your brother’s still asking for you. Every time we talk, actually,” he adds. “He says it’s important, but he refuses to talk about it over the phone or in letters. Says it has to be face-to-face.”
Sighing, I lift my gaze to the sky. “And like I keep telling you, Hunter made his own bed, and he will lie in it alone. It’s bad enough he left me to deal with everything on my own. I’ve got Scar to look after, plus work, and school in a few days,” I ramble. “He should be here. He knows how our parents are, so he should’ve thought enough of me and Scar to be better.”
“Don’t say that,” Ricky cuts in. “You know he was always thinking about you.”
My stare turns cold. He’s always sticking up for Hunter, good or bad, right or wrong. There’s such a thing as being loyal, and such a thing as being an enabler. Sometimes, I struggle to decide which role Ricky fills in Hunter’s life most often.
“If he cared, if he really wanted what’s best for us, he’d be here,” I conclude. “Period.”
I can’t admit this out loud, but I’m also one-hundred percent sure I couldn’t stand seeing my brother like that—locked in that place, knowing he’ll be there for decades without any chance of release. I prefer the memories I’ve managed to hold on to.
My heart lurches inside my chest, but I hide how bad it hurts.
“I won’t see him like that, Ricky. I don’t care what he has to say, I need to move on from this.”
A warm hand covers mine where it rests on the rail, and I don’t move despite knowing I should.
“I know you’re angry, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s your family. Whether out here or in there, he’s blood.”
One tear streaks down my cheek, but I don’t rush to wipe it.
“My mind is made up, Ricky. There’s nothing else to talk about.”
I feel his stare looming over me, but I stand my ground.
“If that’s what you want, I can’t force you.” His hands slips off mine and he shoves both his in the pockets of his jeans.
A rumble of bass from a passerby’s speakers fills the silence between us. But just as I decide to meet his gaze again, I lose it because he’s pointing behind me.
“What’s that?”
My heart sinks when I turn, rushing to snatch the pink shut-off notice from where it’s been placed on the screen door. It doesn’t matter, though, because he’s already seen it.
“How much do you need?”
I ignore his question and focus on the two kids pedaling through the alley on bikes instead.
“So, I’m such a terrible person that I’m not even good enough to help you?” he asks, only now showing signs of frustration.
“Don’t do that,” I shoot back.
“Do what? Point out the truth? Why don’t you just admit what we both know? You think you’re better than me.”
It’s been a terrible day already and I don’t need this. Not on top of everything else.
Stretching my arms toward my house, and then toward my piece-of-crap car, a humorless laugh slips out. “Yes, living in this palace has certainly gone to my head, Ruiz. Thank you for putting me in my place.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t want your money because I know how you get it,” I shout, correcting his bullshit logic, while also earning Ms. Levinson’s attention. “What makes you think I’d accept dirty cash from you if I wouldn’t take it from my own brother? The problem has never been that I’m too good for you. The problem is that you’re too good to blindly let yourself turn into your Uncle Paul, and we both know it.”
“Whatever,” he sighs, waving me off as his nostrils flare—a sure sign I’ve pissed him off. “I have your address. The electric company won’t need more than that. It’ll be taken care of by morning,” he declares.
“Mind your business, Ricky.” My words are pointless, because he’s already disappeared into the alley, hidden from view by Ms. Levinson’s garage.
I swear, every guy I’ve encountered today needs a swift kick in the dick.
Every. Single. One.
Chapter 7
BLUE
Chin up, eyes trained on the building.
Tucking my keys into my pocket, I pop both earbuds in and tune out everything else.
Today doesn’t have to suck, Blue. There’s no guarantee you’ll even see those knuckle-draggers. Think positive. Think … positive.
The lot is packed. Nearly every space holds some expensive car or oversized SUV—more room than any teenager would ever actually need. Dressed to kill while leaning against these beasts on wheels, are my new classmates. The music in my ears drowns out their conversations and laughter, but not my own envy. They have a lot that I don’t, but what I covet most is their peace of mind.
They fit in here, they’ve formed alliances that help them navigate the day-to-day. Even those who aren’t with the in-crowd have likely found their place, formed small cliques that serve as buffers against the sometimes-harsh landscape of high school. Most have probably attended school together all their lives. Then, there’s me—NewGirl, as Pandora has apparently marked me.
I’m ashamed to admit that I finally took the plunge and got swept away by Pandora and all her musings. The conversation with Ricky left me no choice. After what he mentioned about her getting things between West and me way wrong, I couldn’t help myself.
So, after talking to Jules, and realizing I didn’t have it in me to tell her the hell West, Dane, and Sterling put me through, I ended the call and scrolled.
For hours.
These peoples’ lives are messier than any soap opera I’ve ever seen, and now I know a handful of their secrets. Too bad I don’t know the real names behind all the monikers, the missing pieces that would have made what I read just a little bit juicier.
However, what I do know, is that KingMidas—leader of the pack—is undoubtedly West; Sterling—the voice of reason—is MrSilver; and Dane—the vain one with a penchant for selfies—is PrettyBoyD. Collectively, these three are TheGoldenBoys.