Tarnished Crown

  Tarnished Crown

  Erin Watt

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 1

  Gideon

  “Why did I agree to come here?” I grumble as I look around the crowded room. This party is like a hundred others I’ve been to since I was fourteen and figured out how to boost a ride from dear old dad’s garage. The music is marginally better since the frat sprang for an actual DJ, but the beer is mediocre and so are the pills.

  “Because there’s free booze and hot women. What other incentive do you need?” Cal Lonigan, one of my swim teammates, answers.

  “It was a rhetorical question.”

  “Did you look at those babes? You either have a half-chub or it’s dead in your trunks. There’s a dozen reasons standing right over there.” Cal waves his beer bottle toward a group of girls.

  They all look the same to me. Big blown-out hair, skimpy dresses, and shoes that lace up around their ankles. I think my stepsister had a name for them. Roman sandals? Greek sandals? Shit, do I really care?

  No. No, I do not. I gave up on caring a while back.

  I hand Cal my beer. “Pass.”

  “Pass?” he echoes incredulously. “What about her? The Asian in the corner is a gymnast. I hear she can bend into a pretzel.”

  Since when do we want to screw pretzels? “Hard pass.”

  “I’m worried about you, man.” He raises the bottle in front of his mouth, I guess to prevent all those lip readers from figuring out what he’s going to say. “Word in the water is that you haven’t dipped your bucket in anyone’s well for a long time. Are you suffering permanent shrinkage?”

  I open my mouth to explain to Cal that is not a thing but then decide against it. He was exposed to too much chlorine as a baby and it’s messed with his mental processes. You can’t hold that against him. “It’s a good thing you swim well and you’re pretty, Cal.” I pat him on the back.

  “You think I’m pretty,” he squeaks. Eyes wide, he glances around to see if anyone heard. “Look, dude, you’re a handsome fella, too, but you know I don’t swing that way, right?”

  “Right,” I drawl. “Anyway, I’m outta here. This party is—”

  And that’s when I see her.

  Her dark hair is flat-ironed, which I know from past experience takes her an hour to do. Her face is painted into sharp lines with smoky sweeps near her blue eyes and points at the top of her cupid bow lips. It’s the mask she’s worn since she dumped me. The one that says she’s mad at the world and is ready to take it out on some poor sap.

  I don’t know how many guys she’s screwed since she told me that she was going to hurt me the same way I hurt her, but I know she hasn’t enjoyed it even once. How can she when her body belongs to me, like mine belongs to her?

  “Who’s the honey you’re staring at?” Cal asks curiously.

  “Touch her and you die, Lonigan,” I growl.

  Then I stalk off to find out what Savannah Montgomery is doing in this hellhole frat house when she should be destroying the dreams of freshmen at Astor Park Prep.

  Some Sigma gets to her before I do. He plants an elbow above her head and tries to dry hump her before she can get out of the entryway.

  I grab him by the shoulder. “Your brother Paul’s looking for you.”

  The polo-shirted, bland-faced asshole blinks at me. “Paul?”

  “Peter maybe? Parker? He’s this tall.” I wave my hand somewhere around my chin. “Has blond hair.”

  “You mean Jason Pruitt?”

  “Must be.” I give the guy a not-so-gentle shove away from Savannah.

  “I gotta take care of this.” The asshole winks at my girl. “But keep the place beside you warm. I’ll be back.”

  “Who’s brother Paul?” a voice beside me says.

  Dammit, Cal. I whip around. “What are you doing?”

  “I had to see what caught the mighty Gideon Royal’s attention.” He sticks out his giant paw toward Sav. “Cal Lonigan. Call me Long.”

  She takes his hand and holds it far longer than I’d like. “Long? Is that one of those nicknames where it describes the opposite of reality?”

  I grit my teeth. It’s a miracle I have any enamel there left. I’ve been grinding those back molars together since we met.

  “Nah. Complete truth in advertising. Royal can vouch for me. We’re on the swim team together.” He bends down to kiss her fingers. “Now, princess, where can I take you so that I can show you how real my nickname is?”

  “She’s underage,” I blurt out.

  “I am not, you asshole.” Sav jerks her hand away. “I’m eighteen. And sixteen is the age of consent in this state, as you know very well.”

  “Go away, Cal.” I refuse to call him Long. “This one’s mine. You know the rules.”

  Savannah glares daggers at me. “I’m not yours.”

  Cal sighs. “Fine. Fine. But the next one, I’m calling dibs on.”

  I don’t take my eyes off of Sav. “You do that.”

  “I’m not a piece of meat, Gideon,” she snaps at me. “You can’t just tag me like I’m a turkey during a hunt.”

  I ignore this complaint because something far more important needs to be answered. “What are you doing here?”

  She smiles, but it looks pained. “I’m on a college visit. I’m thinking of attending State.”

  Half of me rejoices. The other half revolts. I already hate myself—do I really need to see a reminder of why I’m a miserable human being following me around campus? No. I don’t.

  “Don’t you think it’ll be painful for you to attend the same college as me?”

  “Why?” she asks coolly. If I didn’t know her so well, I might’ve been fooled, but there’s a flicker of hurt behind the steel in her eyes.

  “We both know why. We’ll kill each other.” No matter how much distance or how many bodies we put between us, there’s still a draw. We can’t deny our past and our connection no matter how hard we try. But, when we come together, we cause each other immeasurable pain.

  “I’m already dead. You should know. You’re the one who stuck the knife in my heart.” She pushes by me, a wave of sultry heat and crushed magnolias, and is soon swallowed by the mass of students mashing their sweaty bodies against each other.

  “Bro, I don’t think she likes you much.” My teammate appears behind me, a dry look on his face.

  “You’re a real student of human behavior, Cal.”

  “Just sayin’. Where’d you first kill her? If you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Where else?” I answer, searching for her, but it’s too dark and she doesn’t want to be found. “High school.”

  •••

  Three years ago

  “Savannah was this awkward middle-schooler,.“Braces. Kind of weird hair. She comes into tenth grade totally changed. Gid took one look at her and slapped his name on her ass.” – Easton Royal, Paper Princess.

  “Last year, G-man. We’re going to kill it,” Hamilton Marshall III, better known as Three, shouts from the sunroof of my XXXCAR.

  His girlfriend, Bailey, tugs on his jeans-clad leg. “Sit down, you fool. You’re going to decapitate yourself.”

  He lowers himself from the sunroof reluctantly. “I’m only sitting down because I feel bad for you, babe. If my head did get lobbed off, you’d be tormented for the rest of your days and I don’t want that for you. You, too, G-man.” He reaches over the backseat to pat my shoulder.<
br />
  Beside him, Bailey snorts. “Ha! You wish. Gideon and I would console each other and forget you ever existed.”

  “Say it ain’t so, G-man.” Three slaps a dramatic hand across his chest. “You wouldn’t do a man dirty like that.”

  “Does the bro code extend to the grave?” I’m only joking. I’d cut my hand off before I’d touch Three’s girl.

  “I got you, boo,” my brother Reed says to Bailey from the passenger seat. He’s so lazy he can’t open his eyes or lift his head from the padded rest.

  “No way. The bro code exists even in heaven where I’ll be watching all three of you.” Three points two fingers at his eyes and then waves them toward the front.

  “So you’re saying you’d want the love of your life and your best friend to be miserable for their entire lives because you were stupid enough to stick your head out of the sunroof when said best friend is driving eighty?” Bailey asks.

  “Ninety,” I correct.

  “Ninety,” she repeats.

  Three frowns. “That’s not what I said.”

  Reed smirks.

  “Then you would want us to be comforting each other. You’d want Gideon to be giving me the best orgasms of my life because you want the best for me.”

  I hide a grin. Bailey carries Three’s balls around in her Prada messenger bag.

  “Bzzztt. Timeout.” Three makes a T sign with his hands. “I draw the line at you getting great orgasms from my best friend, even if I am dead. I’m not going to be enjoying my afterlife if you’re done here getting the big D from big G.”

  Okay, maybe only one sack.

  “A stranger’s better?”

  “Definitely. Which means Reed is out of the running, too.”

  Reed waves a finger of acknowledgment in the air.

  “You should hook up with someone, Gideon. It’s safer,” Bailey tells me.

  “How so?”

  “First, because then you’re not stirring a big giant pot of competition. It’s bad enough that Easton’s now at Astor. The three of you are making it hard for the female population to get anything done. Second, it’s healthier to be in a relationship. No worry about STDs or some girl poking holes in a condom. Right, Three?”

  “Right, babe. Bailey’s been on birth control for a year now.”

  “Most girls are,” says Reed, still not bothering to open his eyes.

  “What about Abby Wentworth?” Three suggests.

  “Ugh, no.” Bailey protests.

  “What’s wrong with the Wentworth girl?” I ask, glancing over at Reed. He’s the one who’d been hanging out with her at Jordan Carrington’s party a couple of weeks ago. “She seems nice.”

  “Of course she seems nice to you. She’s one of those girls who is always sweet and kind around the guys, but you catch her alone and she’s petty and manipulative.” Bailey screws up her nose. “Worse, a girl sounds terrible for even complaining about her. Like we’re jealous of her or something.”

  Three grabs the side of Bailey’s head and pulls her in for a kiss. “Don’t worry, babe. You’ve got nothing to be jealous of.”

  “I know that,” Bailey says, patting his head like he’s a good dog. “What about Jewel Davis? She’s genuinely decent.”

  “Sounds boring as hell,” Reed replies.

  I gotta agree with that. “I don’t want to date someone my senior year. It makes separations too complicated.”

  “Ugh. Fine.” She pulls out of Three’s hand and crosses her arms.

  Three throws me a plea of help. He hates it when she’s pissed off. Sighing, I ask, “What’s the plan for tonight?”

  Bailey perks up. “Let’s meet at Rinaldi’s at nine and get ice cream.”

  “Fine.”

  “I’m busy,” Reed says.

  Busy, my ass. He’s probably going down to the docks to fight.

  “I’ll be there,” I assure Bailey before Three sends me another pitiful look.

  Bailey grabs her phone and starts sending out text alerts to all her friends. “Any particular requests? Emilia, Sasha, Jeannette?”

  “Isn’t Jeanette dating Dan Graber?” Three says. “I saw the two of them sucking face at Conner Mill’s party over at the pier last week.”

  “Really? I had no idea.” She makes a notation in her phone. “How about the Montgomery girls?”

  “Girls? I thought there was only Shea, and no thanks.” I shudder.

  “What’s wrong with Shea?” Bailey asks.

  “She runs with Jordan Carrington. I’d rather cut off my dick than stick it in anyone on her crew.”

  “I had no idea you felt that way about Jordan. I mean, I think she’s a snake in the grass, but I didn’t realize that men saw anything but her perfect tits and ass.”

  “Hey, what about me?” Three protests. “I was the one who told you about how she felt me up in PE. I’m still traumatized.”

  Three’s six-five and built like a brick house. Him being scared of little Jordan Carrington is a joke. He’s going to Louisville on a full-ride football scholarship. Bailey, of course, is enrolled as well. She’s got to protect her investment.

  “That’s why you have me, baby.” She pats his shoulder. “Okay, back to the invite list. Yes or no on the Montgomerys?”

  “Yeah, whatever. I don’t care.” It doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with any of these girls. “Invite whoever you—”

  And that’s when I see her.

  Chapter 2

  Savannah

  Three Years Ago

  As the black Range Rover swings into the school parking lot, I clutch my sister’s arm.

  “Ouch, you’re hurting me,” she cries, and jerks out of my grip.

  I nearly fall over. Hurriedly, I straighten up. “He’s coming,” I hiss, smoothing down my hair.

  Shea pulls my hand away. “What did I tell you this morning? Play it cool. Gideon Royal has girls throwing themselves at him a hundred times a day. If you want to stand out, you have to act like he doesn’t exist to you, otherwise you’ll be one of the masses begging for crumbs.” She sighs. “God, this is so embarrassing.”

  “Then leave,” I retort out of the side of my mouth. Having her stand here and criticize me is doing very little for my weak self-esteem.

  “I can’t leave you. I have a reputation to uphold, and I’m not going to let you bring me down.” She shoves her arm through mine. “Now smile so everyone thinks the Montgomery family loves each other.”

  “We do love each other, you dumbass. Besides, I’m going behind the cameras, not in front of them,” I point out, reminding her of my directing and writing ambitions.

  “Whatever.” But she squeezes herself closer to me, and that unspoken encouragement brings my anxiety level down to a bearable level.

  Gideon’s driving, as he always does. Reed’s with him today, but I don’t know the two in the back.

  “Who’s with Gideon?” I ask.

  “Three and his girlfriend, Bailey,” Shea says through a fake smile as she waves to a group of girls to our left. She exchanges air kisses and light hugs with a couple of them—nothing too close, or the clothes will be mussed and the makeup will be smudged.

  I get it now, though. This morning, I spent an hour applying about a thousand layers. My lips alone have three different colors on them. Gradient is in, Shea told me. I watched a YouTube video on repeat for five hours to get this effect. Self-consciously, I rub my lips together, which earns me a sharp nudge in the side.

  “You’re going to ruin your lipstick,” my sister murmurs.

  I pop my lips apart.

  “Now you look like a fish.”

  I slam my lips shut.

  Shea sighs. “This is never going to work. Oh, crap.”

  “What?” I look down at my uniform. Do I have a stain? Are my knee socks crooked?

  “No. Fish bait to your right. Smile,” she orders. “Morning, Jo! Tali!”

  “Shea!” Two g
irls run up, their high heels clicking smartly on the pavement.

  “Jo! I love your coat. Is it…J. Crew?” Shea asks, her fake smile turned up to eleven.

  Tali and I gasp at the insult.

  Jo’s eyes narrow. “Have you been spending so much time with the casuals that you don’t recognize a decent label anymore? This is Fendi!” She grabs Tali by the wrist. “Let’s go. I don’t like walking near the trash bins.”

  Jo stomps off, dragging Tali behind her.

  “What was that all about?” I ask. The skirmish was over nearly before it started, and I don’t know who had the upper hand.

  “Heads up. Target is incoming,” Shea answers. “And that was about getting rid of the competition. Jo’s been wanting in Gideon’s pants since she learned what a penis was.”

  “Oh. Um, thank you?” I guess my sister won. What a strange battle.

  She sniffs delicately. “You want to catch the big shark? You have to get rid of all the lures.” Then she waves a hand to greet Gideon. “Morning—”

  But a girl reaches the Royals before Shea can grab Gideon’s attention.

  “Oh, God, not her,” Shea mutters in disdain.

  ‘Not her’ is Jordan Carrington. If Astor Park, or as I like to call it—Asshole Park—is full of predators, Jordan is one of the biggest threats around. Shea told me that on the second day of school, Jordan picked a fight with one of the most popular senior girls, Heather Lange. The two got into it, hurling insults that made me cringe and I wasn’t even there.

  Heather Lange left Astor after Thanksgiving and never came back. I guess her dad lost his job and couldn’t afford the tuition. I didn’t connect Jordan with Heather’s departure, at least not until the weird lecture my dad gave to Shea and I about being nice to Jordan Carrington.

  Why? I remember asking.

  Because she’s a vengeful little snot and has her old man wrapped around her finger.

  Since then, Shea’s sucked it up and pretends like Jordan walks on water, so there’ll be no shade thrown toward Jordan’s clothes, handbags, or shoes. And definitely no interrupting the piranha’s attack on the Royal boys.