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CHAPTER15
Monroe
THANKSGIVING
Weeks have passedsince Nixon and I almost did it. I almost gave my gift to my ex-best friend. The next day, I decided I didn’t care what game he was playing. I won’t be the other woman. I am the woman. You don’t hide all this from the world. You embrace it. Show it off.
I wear my brown leather skirt, paired with a white shirt tucked in. I put my hair in a fishtail braid, laying it over my shoulder. We always dress up for lunch and then it’s comfy clothes in the afternoon to watch football together. This year it was at the Mastersons’ house. We all took our usual seats. On one side sat the parents, Vincent and Eliza at the end. Next to them Emerson and Maddox. Mom and Dad. Aunt Loretta. Then, Jackson and Makenna. On our side sits Easton, Ezra, then Everett and Nixon, except this year fucking Holly is between Everett and Nixon. Next to Nix is me, and then Jazzy to my other side. Jasmine and Easton always sat as far away as they could get from one another.
The chatter is easy. I talk to Jasmine about her trip next summer. She is going back to Africa; she is such a sweetheart. I had no idea how she’d live up to being a drug-slinging princess. I feel bad for her. For all of us. We had roles just like our parents before us. Nixon and I would take over the oil company our dads co-owned. Jasmine, Easton, and Ezra would take the banks. And Everett is stepping in for me on the banks. Sure, I’d have a seat at the board, but they need a fourth one to run it. He did me a solid. He could have taken the oil company, but he knew I wanted nothing to do with the banks. I was forever indebted to him. My job is to stay squeaky clean. A face for the media to love. I no longer had to run for mayor since Mom broke tradition. Thank God. Can you imagine me as a mayor in those god-awful suits? Gross.
Let me break it down for you. Okay, the founding families are the McKnights, the Suttons, the Adkinses, and the Andrewses.
Let me see if I remember this all correctly. I’ve never really bothered myself with the history because our parents broke so many traditions, none of it pertained to me anymore. The McKnights are our protectors. You threaten us? Eliminated. You owe us money? Handled. The Children of Nobility need dirty work done? No problem. Basically, they are the hitmen. That’s Vincent’s family line. Ezra and Easton’s dad.
The Suttons, Eliza and Emerson’s family line, are the squeaky clean face of the bank. Behind the scenes, they launder money, deal in shitty business deals to better the cash flow into our town. Although Eliza is no angel, she rivals her daughter, Ezra, in body counts. Not that you can tell now.
The Adkinses is my mom’s family line. Now they use it to hold the power of mayor. A trusting face among the feared heirs. But my mom broke that tradition, choosing to start an orphanage and give back to our community instead. I love her for it.
The Andrewses are the true criminals. That would be Jackson’s family line, Jasmine’s dad. What use to be a sex slave and drugs trade—and everything in between—is now only a drugs trade. Another broken tradition.
Now you are wondering where the Mastersons and Davenports fit in. Arranged marriages to strengthen the name and get the heirs in through the doors of the oil business. Thank God for a love match, am I right?
So, now, Ezra is our hitman. Well woman—hitwoman. She has the dirtiest job. Easton would launder the money and make sketchy business deals. Nixon would also stay in the spotlight with me, giving off the illusion that we are good people. We’re not. We’ve all had to kill someone. We are all trained in fighting and different methods of survival. Ezra loves knives; she’s personal like that. I’m equipped with a gun because I am impersonal. Everett and Nixon could kill people with their bare hands. Easton is trained in using the katana like his mom. And poor little Jasmine stuck with me and learned to use a gun. Her first killing was awful. She cried so long they had to lock her up over the summer. She wasn’t built for this life. It’s not fair what is asked of us, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that we didn’t ask for all these enemies. From what I’ve learned, we have it easy compared to our parents. Our grandparents were some real assholes.
A hand snakes up my leg and I jump. Nixon squeezes my leg, still engaged in a conversation with his mom. My dad frowns at me. “You okay, baby?” I give him the best smile I can muster.
Nixon’s fingers walk up my thigh, slipping beneath the leather skirt, pushing past my panties and entering me, hard. I stiffen when he thrusts, my eyes still locked with my fucking dad’s. While we’re eating Thanks-fucking-giving lunch. “Ye-as,” I say as Nixon brutally pumps into me.
“Little jumpy, aye?” Nixon asks.
I glare at him. My eyes say, Fuck you.
His eyes say, Please do.
My legs start to shake, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Oh God, I’m going to come. Nixon is still talking as he presses him thumb into my clit. I grab the edge of the table for leverage. My dad's eyes narrow on me, but I look to the ceiling as stars erupt, trying my hardest to keep my mouth closed. Nixon finally removes his hand, his fingers coated in my juices, and then he brushes a strand of Holly’s hair from her face.
Everyone is oblivious. Except my dad. He knows something is wrong. “I’m not feeling too well. Everett, may I lay in your bed for a while?”
Nixon finally breaks his conversation to glare down at me. My bed, his eyes say. But I ignore him.
“Sure thing, Roe. Just don’t throw up in my room,” Everett says, quickly dismissing me.
“Do you need any help?” Holly asks sweetly, and I shoot her a glare.
“Nope. But if I want to off myself, I’ll let you know. Your voice just really makes me want to…” I cock my fingers to my head, making a fake gun and firing. I close my eyes, tilting my head as my tongue rolls out.
I hear my dad and Maddox burst out laughing. “Monroe!” my mom screeches.
“Sorry, Mom, not feeling well, remember? You know how I can be.” Turning on my heel, I race up the stairs and crash into Everett’s room. It smells like cinnamon and bad decisions. Literally.
I snoop through his room because I’m like the bratty sister he never wanted. I happen upon some drawings in a drawer. It's amazing. Like, really amazing. Maybe he can draw me a tattoo? I sure hope so. I rest my head on his pillow, my eyes are about to close when I hear moans and the sound of brutal pounding in the room next door. Nixon’s room.
“Ange,” he growls. “Fuck, why do you feel so good?”
She moans his name and this time I feel like I could really throw up. He just had his fingers inside me. My heart cracks and my eyes swell with tears. Fuck, I’m so stupid. A tear falls when the door opens and Everett walks in, frowning.
“Roe, fuck them. Let’s you and I have some fun.” A sinister smile graces his beautiful face. A face identical to the one I love. Except this one has icy blue eyes and bad decisions seeping from his pores. He’s dressed in all black. Black ripped jeans, black shoes, black t-shirt stretching across his sculpted chest. His blond hair is messy. Tattoos crawling over every available space besides his face.
