Treacherous by Alex Grayson & Melissa Toppen Page 4

  His brows pucker, making the lines by his eyes more pronounced. “Can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  I tip my chin up. “Thanks. I owe you.”

  His frown turns into a scowl. “You don’t owe me shit. Besides, the more you win, the more money goes in my pocket,” he finishes with a smirk.

  I chuckle and slap him on his massive back. “I see why you keep me around. Bread and butter.”

  “It sure as shit ain’t for your conversation skills,” he snarks good-naturedly.

  I take no offense to his statement. I’m not much of a talker, never have been. In the beginning, when Oliver and I would visit, it was mostly Hart talking to us, Oliver jabbing about something that happened at school, or us helping him around the store. I’d always wondered why he kept letting us come around, but now I think it’s because we remind him what it was like to be young again. Hart never married or had kids. Other than the fighters he employs, he’s been alone.

  “In all seriousness,” he continues, his tone turning somber. “You’re a good boy, Zayden, with a good head on your shoulders.”

  “Thanks, Hart. That means a lot coming from you.”

  A boy in his young teens approaches the counter carrying a couple of comics. I tap my knuckles against the glass display case, turning to leave. “I’m headed out. Call if you hear anything.”

  “You got it. And bring that sister of yours by sometime! It’s been too long since I’ve seen her!” he yells as I walk out the door.

  I toss a wave over my shoulder, letting him know I’ll bring Danielle for a visit. I glance at my watch and curse. I’ve got twenty minutes to get home before dad has to leave for work. Luckily, my truck starts on the first try.

  I pull in the driveway with five minutes to spare. At the youthful age of nine, along with her illness, Danielle can’t be left alone.

  I shove through the front door, drop my keys and books on the kitchen counter, and grab a glass to fill with water. I’m halfway through draining my second glass when dad walks into the kitchen.

  “How was school?” he asks, snatching up his own keys and shoving them into his pocket. He walks to the fridge and pulls out a brown paper bag that I know contains his dinner.

  “Fine,” I grunt, spinning to set the glass in the sink. I step to the side so he can reach the spigot, then lean back against the counter and cross my arms. “Mrs. Miller gave me a C on my base 12 math paper.”

  He pauses filling up his big half-gallon water bottle. “You deserve it?”

  “Hell no, I didn’t deserve it.”

  “Watch the language,” he warns, keeping his head forward, but slanting his eyes toward me. “And Mrs. Miller must feel like you did. You take it up with her?”

  I jerk my chin up.

  “She gonna give you a chance to make it up?”

  “She’s letting me redo the paper.” Which is fucking stupid. The paper was good the first time. The assignment was to discover an unconventional method of doing math and convince the reader why that system is better. It’s not my fault the base twelve math model is so obscure and over her head. She’s a twelfth-grade Calculus teacher, for fuck’s sake.

  “Then make sure you do it right this time,” he states, like I’m not giving it my all already. Next time, I’ll dumb it down a notch. Then maybe Mrs. Miller will understand the shit I write.

  “You still off Saturday?”

  “As of right now, yes.” He twists the lid on the jug, grabs his lunch, and begins to leave the kitchen. “I’ll let you know if it changes.”

  As much as dad needs the hours at work, it’s better if he’s not called in. I’ll make more money in one night of fighting than he’ll make in one week. Of course, he doesn’t know about my weekly fights, and he won’t be learning about them anytime soon.

  I follow him to the front door.

  “I’ve already given Danielle her medicine, so it’s just dinner you need to take care of.”

  “Got it.”

  I close the door and head to Danielle’s room. She’s lying on her bed with her favorite stuffed elephant pressed up against her side as she reads a book. Since I bought her the stuffed animal on one of our zoo excursions, she clings to it like it’s a lifeline.

  I stay in the doorway for several seconds and look at her. She’s pale today, and her oxygen mask is sitting on her chest, ready to use when she needs it. Today hasn’t been a good day.

  Her long brown hair is twisted into some weird braid and is draped over her pillow. Her eyes fly over the page before she flips to another.

  I walk into the room. “Hey, Dani. How’s my girl?”

  Her eyes light up when she sees me, and she gifts me with a smile. My heart hurts when I see the dark spots under her eyes. She must have slept like shit last night. She’s usually still asleep when I leave in the mornings. Last year was her last year in school, switching to home schooling because she missed so many days.

  “I’m okay.” Her chest rises and falls slowly as she puts the book down on her stomach.

  “You get all of your assignments done for the day?”

  She wrinkles her cute little nose. “Yeah. That science test was hard though, so I don’t know how well I did.”

  Her breathing is a bit faster now, as if just saying those few words has taken their toll. She lifts the mask to her face to give herself a little oxygen boost. I sit on the side of her bed and grab the end of her braid, giving it a gentle tug.

  “Nah. I’m sure you aced it.” I smile. Danielle is extremely smart. “Dad said he gave you your medicine already.” She nods. “What sounds good for dinner?”

  She pulls the mask away and narrows her eyes, her lips puckering in thought. A cheeky grin appears on her face. “How about… mint chocolate chip ice cream?”

  I chuckle and tug her braid again. “Nice try. How about I throw us some chicken and home fries on the grill and we eat it out back?”

  “Then mint chocolate chip ice cream?” she asks, her eyes sparkling hopefully.

  There’s no way I could deny her. “Then mint chocolate ice cream.”

  “Deal!”

  “Meet me in the kitchen. You can sit and peel the potatoes.”

  Leaning down, I press a kiss to her forehead before leaving her room. A lot of guys my age despise their younger siblings, calling them nuisances, and would resent them if they were forced to watch them instead of being able to hang out with friends. I’ve never felt that way toward Danielle. I enjoy being around her. Some would say that was born out of pity and obligation. Those people, I’d like to punch their noses through their skulls.

  Danielle is special on so many levels. I’ve never felt resentment toward her or felt her illness was a burden. She’s my baby sister, and I’d do damn near anything for her.

  I pull the chicken out of the freezer and grab a bowl, filling it with potatoes. Snatching a potato peeler from the silverware drawer, I carry it and the bowl to the eat-in kitchen table.

  I glance up with a smile when Danielle slowly walks into the room, wheeling her oxygen tank behind her.

  My planned evening may not be on the typical teen guy’s wish list, but damn if I’m not looking forward to spending it with my little sister.

  RYLEE

  “IT’S FRIDAY!” Pierce sings as he skips up next to me on the sidewalk.

  “Thank goodness.” I sigh. This week has been even more challenging than I had anticipated, but I feel like it’s getting a little easier with each day that passes.

  “Got any plans for the weekend?”

  “That would imply that I actually have friends.” I turn in the direction of my locker and Pierce follows me.

  “Um, hello! What am I—chopped liver?” He knocks his shoulder into mine.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean….” I pause. “It’s just, well, you’re the only actual friend I’ve made this week. I swear people think I have some contagious disease. No one will talk to me
. Like what the heck?”

  “Well I know just the solution. Come to a party with me tonight.”

  “And that’s the solution how?”

  “I can introduce you to some of my friends and it will give you a chance to socialize outside of school. Come on. It will be fun.”

  “And where is this party?”

  “Terri’s house.”

  “And Terri is?”

  “She’s who’s throwing the party, that’s who.” He pauses. “Don’t worry. Her parties are usually pretty good, and you’ll be there with me so it’s guaranteed to be a good time.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I promise, not really sure if I’m in the partying mood.

  “No thinking. You’re going,” he tells me matter of fact.

  “You’re really quite pushy when you want to be.” I smile up at him.

  “I know.” He chuckles.

  My steps falter when I turn the corner and find Zayden at his locker.

  He’d said something the first day about my locker being next to his and how it wouldn’t be for long, but clearly he doesn’t have the power he thinks he does, because it’s still my locker.

  “He looks even more brooding today than usual.” Pierce follows my line of sight just as Oliver slides up next to Zayden. “If I had to guess, I’d say right there is your friend roadblock.” He gestures to the two of them.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I warned you about them and their minions. If Zayden’s got a problem with you then most of the school will, too. Even if they personally don’t have a problem with you, they won’t go anywhere near you if it means putting themselves in the line of fire.”

  “But I haven’t done anything to him.” My temper flares in my voice.

  “No, but his best friend has declared you public enemy number one, and that’s enough to put you on the list.”

  “Freaking Oliver,” I groan. “As if he doesn’t make me miserable enough at home, now he’s going to ruin what’s left of my senior year.”

  “Just keep your head up. I’m sure as time goes on they’ll get bored. Give it a few weeks. You’ll be old news before you know it.”

  “Walk over there with me?” I look up at him pleadingly.

  “Fine, but if I end up with a broken nose, your ass is paying for the plastic surgery to fix it,” he teases, looping his arm through mine.

  “Deal.”

  We reach my locker right as Zayden is closing his. When he turns and catches sight of us, his nostrils flare. I have half a mind to ask him what the hell his problem is, but given his reputation, I figure it’s better to kill him with kindness instead.

  “Good morning.” I smile at him as I slide in front of my locker.

  “Why the fuck are you so chipper this morning?” Oliver sneers at me, his gaze going to where Pierce is standing behind me. “And what the fuck are you looking at?”

  “Just waiting for my friend.” Pierce holds his hands up in front of himself as if to say I don’t want any trouble.

  “I didn’t know you had any friends.” His gaze cuts back to me. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’d sink your claws into this one. Like mother like daughter, right?”

  “What are you talking about?” I try to keep my voice even.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” An evil grin tugs at the corners of his mouth.

  “Actually, I don’t. And you know what, I don’t really care either. Whatever issues you’ve got with your dad and my mom, take it up with him. As for me, stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.”

  “Or maybe I’ll just remove you all together.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” I challenge, refusing to back down. I’ve never shied away from confrontation, and I’m not about to start now. I’ve been trying to play nice for my mom’s sake, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let this jackass walk all over me for sport.

  “You have no idea the shit I can rain down on you.”

  “Save your threats for someone who’s actually scared of you.” I give him a smile that reads fuck you before starting to work on the combination for my locker. I can feel the anger radiating off of him, but rather than frighten me, it makes me smile. I’m glad I’ve gotten under his skin. Serves him right.

  I pull on the lock after entering the combination, but it doesn’t open. Figuring I’ve entered it wrong; I spin the dial and start again. When it doesn’t work a second time, I start to feel like maybe something is up.

  “Trouble with your lock?” Oliver smiles, emptying a few Red Hot candies into his hand before popping them into his mouth.

  “What did you do?” I glare at him.

  “Me?” He chews slowly and then swallows. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Bullshit. What did you do?” I repeat, trying the lock one more time.

  Nothing.

  My gaze jumps from Oliver to Zayden. During this entire altercation he hasn’t spoken a word. Our eyes meet and a little bit of my resolve disintegrates. God, why does he have to be so good looking? Why does he have to be friends with my sadistic stepbrother? And why does he have to look at me like he can’t decide if he wants to murder me and throw me in a dumpster, or push me up against his locker and shut me up with his mouth? My vote would go to the latter.

  “Did you do this?” I ask, pointing at my locker angrily.

  “You can just go to the office during your free period and have someone cut the lock off and give you a new one,” Pierce says from behind me. “It’s probably broken or something,” he offers, but I think we both know that’s not the case.

  “You know what, you’re right.” I adjust my bag on my shoulder. “Nothing that can’t be taken care of.” I glare between Oliver and Zayden before plastering on the biggest, fakest smile I can muster. “Have an awesome day,” I say to the both of them, squaring my shoulders as I turn and quickly walk away.

  “That was crazy. I think I just saw smoke come out of Oliver’s ears.” Pierce follows me toward first period. “I don’t think anyone has ever talked to him the way you just did.”

  “Serves him right. Jerk.”

  “Aren’t you a little worried though?” We slow to a stop outside of my classroom.

  “Why would I be worried?”

  “You’re new here so I don’t expect you to understand the gravity of the situation, but Oliver tends to take things to the extreme, and I’ve never heard him make a threat that he didn’t deliver on. The guy is a real piece of work. You might want to think about sleeping with one eye open—that’s all I’m saying.”

  “Oliver is harmless.”

  “That’s debatable. But I know for sure Zayden isn’t.” He narrows his eyes at me. “If Oliver wants to retaliate, he’ll use his friend to do it. I’m just saying, keep your head up and your eyes open.”

  “Thanks for the advice.” I blow out a breath, wondering if my inability to keep my mouth shut is finally going to come back to bite me.

  “Whatever happens, I got your back.” He drops an arm over my shoulder and pulls me to him, giving me a tight little squeeze. “Anyway, I gotta go. I’ll meet up with you at lunch.”

  “Okay, sounds good.” I give him a little wave before turning to head inside the classroom.

  I take the seat closest to the door at the front of the room and place my book bag on the floor next to my chair. Pulling out my planner and a notebook, I flip it open and scribble today’s date at the top—figuring if I don’t have my book I should at least take notes.

  My head is down as I write, when something bumps into my chair hard enough to cause the legs to skid a couple of inches before everything on my desk crashes to the floor. Stunned and a little caught off guard, I look up to see Zayden straightening back up like he had tripped or something.

  “My bad,” he says sarcastically, trying to imply that it was an accident when we all know it was most definitely on purpose.

  My gut instinc
t is to lash out and tell him where he can stick his ‘my bad’, but then I remember my earlier thought. Kill him with kindness.

  “Oh no problem.” I smile up at him. “I’ve been known to be rather clumsy myself.” I lean down and pick up my stuff off the floor. By the time I turn back, Zayden has claimed his usual seat at the back of the class.

  Knocking my stuff on the floor—really? How original. I roll my eyes as I settle back into my chair.

  If he thinks that’s all it’s going to take to send me running and crying, he’s got another thing coming. I don’t scare that easy.

  LUNCH HAS BECOME my favorite part of the day. Obviously because it’s the only period I share with Pierce. Five days and I’ve managed to land a whopping one friend. Then again, he’s an awesome guy, so I guess in that sense I’m pretty lucky. I’d rather have one good friend than dozens of sorta friends.

  He isn’t at our table yet when I arrive, so I slide into my usual seat and tear open the bag of Doritos I got for lunch. I’ve just shoved one of the cheesy chips into my mouth, when a group of three girls approach my table.

  I recognize one from Math. Tiffany, I think. She’s one of those perfectly polished girls. You know the kind—perfect makeup, highlighted blonde hair, sparkly manicured fingers and toes. Couple that with her obvious love of fashion and all things trendy and you get the stereotypical mean girl. Which makes her two friends, who are both equally as pretty and yet somehow not, her minions.

  “Hey, Rylee.” She slides down into the chair across from me, her friends taking the seats on either side of her.

  “Hi.” I clear my throat, having swallowed my chip too early, causing it to lodge on its way down.

  “So, the girls and I were wondering if maybe you wanted to go shopping after school.” She wipes a crumb off the table in front of her, her nose crinkling in disgust.

  “We know you’re new and all, so we thought maybe we could show you around town. Show you all the best places to shop and stuff. It will totally be fun,” the brunette on her right chimes in.

  “So much fun,” the other brunette on her left tacks on.