Troublemaker Read online

  “Everything’s going to be fine,” Emilia promises.

  “Really,” Karen agrees.

  “Yeah,” I say, but I don’t really believe that.

  Not really.

  Not inside.

  Something tells me that whatever’s going to happen between me and Harrison, well, it’s not going to be anything like I expect.

  Chapter Six

  Harrison

  THE O’CONNER MANSION has been in my family for more than fifty years, and it shows. It’s a huge structure that looms over carefully crafted gardens. The mansion itself is big enough to get lost in, and I have.

  Many times.

  Now, though, it feels awkward and strange to be looking at it. Adalee is standing beside me, and she’s just as tense as I am, although I don’t know why. She barely spoke to me all week. We were both busy with exams, I suppose, but there’s something else going on, and I hate that I’m going to have to get to the bottom of it.

  I’d much prefer to just enjoy my winter holiday. I want to lounge around, do nothing, and eat. Maybe I’ll sneak some of my dad’s liquor and maybe I’ll find someone to bring some weed by. Aside from that, I wanted to have zero plans.

  Then Adalee happened.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, glancing over at her. The car service dropped us off and the driver is busy carrying our bags into the house. Adalee and I are both perfectly capable of carrying our own luggage into the house, but we both know that my dad would never go for that.

  O’Conner’s know when to dictate a job.

  That’s what my dad would say.

  In order to avoid a lecture or a fight, we’ve both chosen to just let the driver carry our stuff inside, although it’s almost too painful to watch. He’s old and arthritic, and our bags are heavy, but Adalee and I both stand perfectly still and stare at the house. We both pretend not to notice how much the guy is struggling.

  “No,” she says.

  “Are you ready to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “He’s not going to be happy to see us,” I offer.

  “I know.”

  I sigh and run my hand through my hair. Well, shit. This is going even worse than I thought it would. So not only is Adalee not happy to be here, and not only is she hiding something from me, but she knows how much of an ass my dad can be.

  She gets it.

  Finally, Adalee has enough of the driver trying to carry her heavy duffel up to the front porch, and she hurries up beside him.

  “Let me get that,” she says.

  The driver pales.

  “I can get it,” he says.

  “Forget it,” Adalee tells him. I see her shove something into his hand – a wad of cash, undoubtedly – and she gestures for him to leave. “Get out of here,” she says. She’s not being unkind. She’s trying to get him to leave before my dad comes out and asks why we’re hauling our own shit.

  If he catches Adalee helping out the driver, my dad will do anything in his power to get that guy fired.

  It’s pretty shitty, to be honest.

  That’s the kind of guy he is, though.

  Terrible.

  The driver seems to know what’s up, and he nods, murmurs something to her, and leaves. Adalee scurries up the porch and drops her bag there. The driver hurriedly gets in the car and just as he’s pulling away, my father appears in the front doorway. Is it just me, or does Adalee’s entire body tense when she sees him?

  Since when did she feel afraid of my father?

  Oh, I know she doesn’t like him. I’ve never really understood exactly why. He gives her anything she wants. She goes to a great school, and she lives here for free. He’s basically given her a dream life without any strings attached, but something tells me there’s more going on than I know about.

  My father does not wave or say hello. Instead, he stands on the porch near the luggage and stares at us. He looks down at Adalee, who is on the top step of the porch. I’m standing farther away, but even I can see the look of contempt he gives her.

  What the hell is that all about?

  Seriously, what’s with the anger?

  The animosity?

  “Adalee,” he finally says.

  “Hello, Mr. O’Conner,” she says.

  Not Frank.

  Not Dad.

  Not Uncle.

  Mr. O’Conner.

  So formal, and so uncomfortable.

  He nods instead of replying, and then jerks his head toward the door: a clear message. He wants her to go inside. Probably, he wants us both to get ready for supper, which will be happening at exactly 6:00. My father is nothing if not prompt. Adalee says nothing. Instead, she walks inside the house and vanishes.

  Casually, leisurely, I jaunt up to the porch. I don’t let my dad know that something is bothering me, and I definitely don’t let him know it’s Adalee. My father is a vulture. If he detects weakness or exhaustion or any sort of fault in someone or something, he swoops in and destroys them.

  That’s just what he does.

  “Father,” I say.

  “Harrison,” he looks me up and down. “You look well.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Supper is at six,” he says, and then he turns and goes inside the house. One of the servants appears and starts gathering the luggage that’s on the porch. There’s not much: two duffel bags and two backpacks. Adalee and I both pack lightly. Neither one of us wants to be here longer than we need to.

  I don’t know whether that says more about us or my father.

  I don’t say anything because my father is gone before I can even open my mouth. I don’t know whether he’s going to go talk to Adalee or boss around the servants. All I know is that the countdown to returning to school has officially begun because this?

  This fucking sucks.

  I go into the house and look around. Somehow, it seems even bigger than it did before. I’m not under the impression that this is a Simba from The Lion King type of situation. I don’t look around and think to myself, “One day, all of this will be yours.” That’s not the kind of father I have. If anything, I suspect that one day, my dad will find a way to keep this from being mine. As far as I know, I have a trust fund, but that’s the funny thing about money.

  It can be taken away at anytime.

  I learned long ago not to depend on it, and more importantly, I learned long ago not to depend on my father.

  “Can I take your coat, sir?” A quiet, gentle voice sounds from beside me, and I turn. A grin spreads over my face. I can’t even hold it back.

  “Margaret,” I say, scurrying over to the housekeeper. She chuckles quietly as I wrap my arms around her and give her a big ol’ hug. Margaret practically raised me. Oh, she’ll never admit it. She never takes credit for half of the stuff she does around here, but I know the truth.

  And I know I have her to thank for just about every good thing in my life.

  “Mr. O’Conner,” she says politely, seriously, but she hugs me back, and for just a minute, I feel about as good as I ever have.

  “What have you been up to?” I ask, pulling away. “How’s Tyrell?”

  She shakes her head and smiles.

  “He’s doing just fine, Mr. O’Conner. He’s in college now, you know.” She beams, and I know just how proud she is of her son. He’s only a year older than me, but I didn’t see him too much as a kid. I have a feeling my dad didn’t want Margaret bringing her family members around the house.

  Again, another reason my dad is sort of a huge, giant dick.

  “I’m happy to hear that.”

  “What about you?” Margaret asks me, raising one eyebrow. “Is there someone special in your life?”

  Special?

  How about perfect?

  Because that’s how I’d describe Adalee.

  She’s sweet and kind and gentle and wonderful, but she’s also completely and totally off the table. She’s got something going on in her life that I know nothing about: something that’s d
riving her to the brink of madness. I have to find a way to pull her back to reality. I need to find a way to save her, to show her that everything’s going to be fine.

  Before it’s too late.

  But Adalee isn’t mine.

  We aren’t together.

  And besides, that’s not what Margaret asked.

  She wants to know if I’m dating anyone, if I’m seeing a girl from school, and I’m...

  Well, I’m not.

  I gave Dana a pretty abrupt fare-thee-well before I left for winter break. Maybe I should have been nicer to her.

  Well, yeah, I definitely should have been nicer to her, but the truth is that I don’t want Dana. I don’t want anyone but Adalee.

  And I don’t know what to do about that.

  “No,” I finally say, shaking my head. I force a smile onto my face even though I’m not feeling it at all. “There’s no one.”

  It’s a lie.

  Chapter Seven

  Adalee

  SOMEHOW, I MANAGE TO survive dinner and dessert without having to be alone with Frank. I’m not really sure how I manage it, but I think I have Margaret to blame. She knows perfectly well what Frank is like. She knows what he thinks about me.

  She knows that he’s got me pinned down: trapped in a life I don’t want.

  She also knows that there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

  After dinner is finished, Margaret clears the table and Frank, Harrison, and I sit around for a few minutes. I’m dreading what comes next because I just know that as soon as I’m alone with Frank, he’s going to fucking grill me.

  What am I doing?

  How are my grades?

  Is there anything I need to tell him?

  Does Harrison like me yet?

  “Harrison, how did your final exams go?” Frank speaks diplomatically to his son, as though there isn’t this heavy cloud of discomfort hanging over us.

  “Uneventful,” Harrison says.

  “What were your scores? They haven’t been posted yet.”

  Crescent Academy likes to keep parents in the loop as much as possible when it comes to grades. Most of the time, everything’s posted the same day as the exam. Winter break tests are a little different. We’re talking about end-of-the-semester exams, and those are really essay-heavy. Some of them take days or even weeks for the instructors to grade.

  This is something Frank dislikes. I know that the other parents do, too, because I’ve heard other students complain about this before.

  “No idea,” Harrison says. He reaches for an apple from a center dish, and he brings it to his mouth. I try not to stare at his lips as he bites down on it, wrapping his mouth around the fruit. Why the hell can’t I stop thinking about Harrison like that?

  I hate myself for it.

  I absolutely, totally, completely despise myself for the way I think about him these days.

  Harrison isn’t a tasty treat.

  He’s not something or someone I can just take or want or get.

  But I do.

  I want him so fucking much and it’s eating me up inside.

  Shit.

  “Adalee,” Frank turns his attention to me. “It seems as though you worked up quite an appetite over supper. I hope you’re applying that same attention to detail to your grades.”

  So he saw how much I was eating.

  Fuck.

  Fuck fuck fuck.

  It’s just that Margaret is such a damn good cook, and honestly, I should have been better. I should have paid more attention.

  I didn’t eat dessert, though.

  I’ve got that going for me.

  I swallow hard.

  “Yes,” I finally say. “I’ve been very careful with my grades, sir.”

  He stares at me for a minute. Harrison can sense the tension between us because he looks from his dad to me and back again. He wants to know what’s going on between us. I can tell. Unfortunately, I can’t explain this to Harrison.

  “I hope that’s true,” he says. “It would be unfortunate if your grades were to fall in your last year of high school.”

  He looks at me pointedly and then reaches for his post-supper cup of coffee. How anyone can drink coffee this late in the day, I don’t know. I don’t say anything, though. Instead, I manage to survive as he and Harrison chit chat about sports and the weather until finally, we’re released to go to our bedrooms.

  Harrison gets up to leave and I do the same. Just as I reach the door, Frank calls to me.

  “Oh, Adalee?”

  “Yes?” I swallow hard, turning back to him. A chill shoots through my body as I realize that he’s going to ask me something or tell me something, and no matter what it is, it’s going to be something I don’t want any part of.

  “Do me a favor. Stop by my office tomorrow morning. Say around seven?”

  Seven?

  In the fucking morning?

  I know this isn’t a request, and it’s not something casual. This means I’m going to need to be awake, showered, and fixed up before seven.

  “Absolutely,” I say calmly. I just hope my voice doesn’t waver or betray my nervousness. “I’ll see you then.”

  I turn and push past Harrison, who has, once again, a confused look on his face, and I scurry off to my room. I all but run up the stairs, and I’m almost to my door when I feel Harrison’s hand on my arm.

  I turn around, but I don’t scream. I open my mouth to say something, but he shakes his head and gestures around us. I know why. Neither one of us believes that Frank is a good guy, and neither one of us trusts him. He’s exactly the kind of guy who would put out listening devices or even cameras that we can’t see.

  Neither one of us wants to be caught by Frank.

  Not when we’re being honest.

  “Attic,” he mouths silently, and then he lets me go. I nod, letting him know that I understand, and then I go into my bedroom and close the door. I lock it, grateful that Frank hasn’t removed the one thing that separates me from the rest of the family. I might not have much, but I have this small semblance of privacy, and that has to count for something.

  Once in my room, I sit down on the bed and take a deep breath.

  What the hell does Frank want to talk to me about?

  Harrison, obviously.

  It has to be Harrison.

  Only, I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to say and honestly, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep faking my way through things.

  I’m hungry, and I’m tired, and I’m worn out emotionally by trying to hide the way I feel about Harrison. I hate that Frank wants to set us up to be together. It’s worse because I like Harrison.

  A lot.

  More than I should.

  When I touch myself, it’s to thoughts of him. Oh, I know he likes to play with people. I know all of the ways he enjoys bedding other women and touching them and teasing them. I’ve heard whispered tales at school about how magical his fucking dick is. I get all of that, but...

  Well, I honestly just don’t care.

  And I honestly just want him.

  Harrison isn’t the guy people see at school. That’s a persona he pastes on. Just like I wear my mask when I have to deal with people and express myself, so does Harrison. The horrible thing is that both of us feel like we’re trapped in these worlds where we don’t have any freedom to actually be ourselves.

  We both feel anxious and worn out and tired.

  And today is no exception.

  I wait for about ten minutes, and then I move to my closet. It’s a large walk-in closet with rows for clothing on each side. It’s still full from things I used to wear when I was young, and with a few items I wore over the summer. There’s a shelf at the back for shoes, and it’s completely full. I’m not a big shoe fan. I don’t care about having a collection.

  Frank cares, though, and so I have about six shelves just full of shoes. There are boots and heels and flats and honestly, if I was someone else, I’d probably be thrilled. Mos
t girls would kill to have a collection as varied as mine, but not me.

  I close the door behind me and flip the light switch on. Harrison and I discovered long ago that each of our closets has attic access. I don’t know if Frank knows. Hell, I don’t even know if the household staff knows. They must know, right? I mean, surely.

  When we were kids and we’d get grounded or banished to our rooms, Harrison and I would always find a way to sneak out of our bedrooms and hang out with each other, and this was how we did it.

  Only, it’s been a long-ass time since I sneaked out and into the attic.

  Like, years.

  Now I push aside the clothes at the back of the closet and find the tiny hide-a-door. It blends in almost perfectly with the design of the walls, and it was quite by accident that I even found it. Running my hands along the edge of the wood trim, I find the little latch that opens the door, and I press. It clicks open and I push the panel aside and climb in. It’s dark, but the light from the closet shines into the space. Reaching around in the darkness, I find the tiny purple flashlight I left here as I kid.

  It’s got glitter and stickers on it, but I’m pleased that it still works. I turn it on and then close the door behind me.

  I’m in a tiny enclosed space now with only one direction to go: up. There’s a narrow staircase that leads up. I just hope the damn thing holds me. Carefully, cautiously, I climb up the stairs. I choke back a sneeze as I reach the top, and then I’m there.

  And so is he.

  I’m alone in the dark with Harrison O’Conner, and my heart starts to race.

  He stands in the center of the attic. It’s filled with boxes and forgotten furniture. There’s a space over in the corner where we pushed some couches together when we were kids. There’s a sheet covering the couches now, and that sheet is completely coated in dust. There’s a solitary window at one end of the attic: a round, little window that pours sunlight into the narrow space.

  “Adalee,” he says.

  “Harrison.”

  “What the fuck is going on with you and my dad?”

  I swallow, looking up at him. This is it. This is my chance. I could tell him all of the horrible things that his dad has planned for our lives. I could tell him that his father wants us to get married, and that I don’t have a choice about it. I could say that I’m pretty sure my mom traded me to his family for money so that Harrison’s dad could raise the perfect wife for him.