Sinners & Saints (Sinners & Saints #1) (14 page)

“I’m going to give you the power that I
never had. If you want me to leave your mom alone, then say it. I’ll stand by
my word and my word is that if you tell me to leave right now, I will never see
your mom again.”

           
The
boy’s jaw twitches and more tears fall. His small chest rises up along with his
nose and chin.
 

“Leave,” he grits out.

           
I
nod. “Good for you, kid. You’re gonna make it.”

           
I’m
back in Brooke’s room.

           
“Your
kids are back.” I inform her, throwing my clothes on.

           
She
rises up from the bed, her face upset. She pulls her hair, starting to panic.

           
“You
might want to have a chat with your son.”

           
“Oh
my God…” She gasps between words, “Oh my God...” Her eyes begin to tear up.

           
“Stop
it,” I say, sharply. “You don’t get to cry. He does, but you don’t. I suggest
you get your strength in order and talk to your son and if you’re feeling very
brave, divorce your husband and focus on just being a mother and your own
person instead of a woman who chose to waste her prelaw degree to become a
trophy wife to make an asshole feel more like a man.”

           
She
gapes at me and her mouth trembles.
 

           
“This
will be the last time you and I come in contact on a personal level. It was fun
while it lasted.”

           
I
leave out and get into my town car. I’ve never been aware of how easy it is for
our driver, Tony, to ignore us. Now I am very aware. He just keeps driving, his
eyes focused on the street as I slam my fists repeatedly into the back of the
passenger seat.

9

CODY

“So how is your summer so far,
sweetie?” my mom asks me while texting on her iPhone. My dad is doing the same.
Work is twenty-four seven for the Nichol’s family. Always trying to save the
world through surgery, research, and medication.

           
“It’s
good so far,” I tell them fixing my tie.

           
“You
seem nervous,” My dad says, which confuses me because he’s been doing nothing
but looking at his phone.

           
“I’m
fine.” I’m not, though.

Two months ago I picked this restaurant
for when my parents stop by in New York. They live in Washington now. Our
family’s company is collaborating with the government on a research study. It’s
classified. I didn’t want to live in DC, so that’s how I ended up at Ms.
Eleanor’s two years ago. My parents don’t trust Ms. Eleanor or the people
staying there, of course, but they do trust me. They have faith that I will
stick to the plan. Get no less than a 4.0. Don’t drink. Don’t do drugs. Always
wear a condom
—
Mom’s
advice
.
Be
charming. Be good. Be gracious. Be thankful. Become a fine man who can look
himself in the mirror and not be offended or disgusted with what he sees.
That’s what my dad told me when I was a kid. Those words of impeccable wisdom
are what keep me going down the path that I’m on. I do get a 4.0. I’m kind. I’m
thankful. I drink, but I don’t overindulge. Only drugs I ever do is smoke weed.
I think I’m gracious. I hope I’m charming. Okay, no I’m not. If I were, I would
be in the predicament of having the choice to wear a condom or not. I wouldn’t
be a damn virgin at eighteen. I wouldn’t be acting like a bitch when it came to
talking to a certain waitress.

           
“Is
everything fine?” she asks. I didn’t even notice she was standing over me.

           
“Yes,”
I quickly say, gawking at her like an idiot. “Um, when will the food be coming?”

           
Her
eyes looked worried. I wasn’t complaining; I was trying to find another way to
freaking talk to her.

           
“Chef
said it should be about fifteen more minutes. I’m very sorry.”

           
“No,
no, no.” I keep repeating it, shaking my head. “It’s fine. It’s not late. I
mean…” I close my mouth and recover my words. “I was just wondering when the
food will be out.”

           
She
smiles. It’s a smile that kind of makes you feel good about yourself. It’s big
and bright and, more importantly, genuine.

Her name is Anika. She’s average
height, brown skin, black hair that has this bang that falls over her face and
her eyes are a dark brown that have captured my attention since I first saw her
four months ago. That’s why we come here every time they visit. They think it’s
my favorite restaurant, but I could care less about the food.

I can never get the courage to just say
something other than order my food.

           
“Cody.”
My mom says my name, but I don’t see her. I just see Anika walking away.

           
“Yeah,”
I finally look at her.

           
“She’s
pretty.” She gives me that ‘boy stop playin’ look
—
meaning don’t even think about it. Look but don’t touch when
it comes to girls not set to our standards. My mom doesn’t want me to get
trapped by two kinds of women. A white girl that just wants to piss off her
parents by dating a black man and a girl from a low class family, no matter
what race. It’s very rude, I know, but that’s just how it is for the people on
the top of the food chain. Metaphorically, wealth is all one big incest. We
marry within the family. That’s why the people I live with are fucked up. I
just got lucky. Most of their parents married each other because they were
brother and sister and blood is thicker than water. Family sticks together…
while secretly plotting one another’s assassinations.
 

JULIET

I learn a lot from August. Like how
organized he is. He doesn’t like things out of place. He notices when I touch
his toy car collection, with his permission of course. I pick up one of the
cars. It’s a mustang; I do know that. It’s blue with white stripes. I place it
back in its rightful spot on the black shelf, or so I think. August, with his
finger pushes the toy car an inch to the left on the shelf.

           
“How
do you know that it’s not in the right spot?” I ask him as he goes back to
drawing a maze in his sketchbook.

           
“The
sun always shines on it,” he answers still staring at the sketchbook. “The sun
wasn’t shining when you put it back.”

           
“Well,
what happens when the sun isn’t out?”

           
“Then
I panic,” he answers in a normal tone. Panic is normal for him.
 

           
“We
like you, Juliet,” he suddenly says.

           
“We?”
I stare at him confused.

           
“Hugo
and I. We’re twins. Brothers. We are one. That’s what Hugo always says. After
Mom went flying, I was really sad. Hugo decided we become one. Knife plus my
hand equals blood. Knife plus Hugo’s hand equals blood. My blood plus Hugo’s
blood equals… one.”

“One,” I repeat in awe.

“We like you.”

I smile at August. “I like you too.” I
do. I like them both.

           
“What
are you doing?” I turn around to see Hugo standing in the doorway.

           
“August
wanted to show me his amazing maze. Your brother is a creative genius.”

           
“Yes,
he is. I don’t understand why he would show you. He doesn’t show anyone.”

           
“We
like her, Hugo,” August tells him and I smile nodding.

           
“Yes,
Hugo. You like me,” I say. I notice the concern in his eyes. He’s not his usual
stoic self. “You okay?”

           
“Yes,
I need to do some pull ups and take a shower. I’m about to have company.”

           
“Don’t
you want to figure it out? You always figure it out,” August eagerly asks.

           
Hugo
looks at me before answering. “I promise, August, I’ll figure it out later.” He
walks up to him and gently rubs the top of his head and places his other hand
on his right shoulder. “I promise,” he softly says and it’s the first time the
tone in his voice sounds gentle.

           
“Okay,”
August nods, looking around. He’s upset, but okay.

           
Hugo
leaves the room and August scratches the back of his head and goes back to
drawing. “He’s mad,” he says. “He only does pull ups three times a week. This
is his fourth time.”

           
I
am a nuisance. I could just leave Hugo alone yet I am walking into his room.
Not only is his shirt already removed but everything but his blue and red
Calvin Klein boxer briefs that have a nice sized bulge. Oh God. Fuck. Shit.
Every foul thing in the dictionary, basically.

           
He
just lifts himself up on the black pull up bar that’s bolted on his bathroom
door frame. Over and over again. His stomach flexes every time he goes up.

           
“Do
you always do pull ups in your underwear?”

           
He
doesn’t answer. “You are very good at those. I can’t even do one.”

           
“Anyone
can do it,” he says between breaths and pulls. “You just have to believe you
can and work at it.”

           
“So,
you do have a heart.”

           
“What
do you want?” He’s annoyed now.

           
“Wow,
you are just full of emotions right now.”

           
“Do
I look like I have time for this right now?”

           
“No,
you don’t. August told me you were mad.”

           
“He
doesn’t know shit.”

           
My
eyes broaden at his sharp tone. “Yep, you are in a bad mood. Well, I’ll wait to
bother you when you’re in a lighter one.”

           
“I’m
never in a lighter mood.”

           
I
scoff at him. “Please, spare me the rebel without a cause bull.”

           
 
“You know James Dean?” He’s being
condescending.

           
“I’m
British, not a bloody alien,” I fire back as he does his last pull up. I think
he did thirty. He drops on his feet and narrows his eyes at me. “Speaking of
nationality, I thought British were supposed to be stiff and non-huggers with
bad teeth.”

           
“That
stereotype really gets old. Half true, but not all. It’s like saying all
Americans are obese and idiots, which I’m starting to think is true.”

           
“On
the contrary, most people in America are idiots… and obese.”

           
“Oh,
except you.”

           
“You
said it.” He comes closer. He’s blatantly ignoring the fact that he’s still in
his underwear. Oh God, here he goes with that sexy seductive look again. I can
feel my body getting warmer.

           
“Because
you don’t feel anything for anyone, right?” It comes out more of a whisper
because of the Adonis standing close to me. “You honestly don’t feel an inch of
love for your brother?”

           
“I
am obligated to him. I feel sorry for him.” His answer is like throwing cold
water over me. Finally, I can get my shit together.

           
“I
think you feel sorry for yourself,” I tell him and his brow creases.

           
“I
think you are the most vexatious human being I have ever met.”

           
“You
read the dictionary a lot, don’t you?”

           
“Wha-
what do you think this is?” he stammers. “You think this is a classic tale
where the beautiful, funny girl captures the heart of the villain and makes him
change his ways, saving him from a life full of atrocity?”

           
I
smile and I am shamelessly blushing at him. “So you think I’m funny and
beautiful?”

           
He
rolls his eyes as I laugh. I swear I see a smile trying to slip out as the
right corner of his mouth goes up for a moment. “I think your eyes are crooked,
your nose is small and long at the same time, your lips are too thin and you
have neither breasts nor ass.”

           
“My
top lip is only thin, my nose is small, not crooked, my bra size is in the
lower B area but they’re still grip worthy and I do have an arse… when it’s
naked.” I arch my brow and smirk.

           
He
licks his lips before answering. “But despite physical lackluster, yes.” The
way he looks at me now it’s as if he’s now realizing it himself. “You are quite
beautiful. Your personality needs work.”

           
“So,
you think I shouldn’t have any?”

           
“No,
I didn’t say that.”

           
“Or
maybe I should have a narcissistic personality like your good mate, Scarlett.”

           
“Maybe
you should.”

           
“What
is it about her for you?”

           
“She
understands me.”

           
“No,
she understands what she turned you into.”

           
“I
see.” He nods his head and walks away, grabbing the nearest towel. “You’ve been
getting information about me.”

           
“I’m
curious.” I shrug as he faces me. Without hesitation, he removes his briefs. He
dares me to look down with his semi smirk, the bastard. I will not. I will not
look down. “I heard you used to not be this way.” Finally, he’s wrapping a
towel over him. “I heard you actually used to smile and laugh.” I pause before
pushing. I probably shouldn’t, but like I said before, I never listen to my
first right mind. “I heard about your mum… and that you were the one who… I’m
sorry you had to go through that. That should’ve-“

           
“Yes,”
he interrupts me. “I witnessed my mother jump off the balcony and into her
brutal demise. If only I would’ve been a minute later to not witness it or a
minute early. Maybe I could have saved her. Nothing shocking. It’s all the same
sad story. The same what ifs. Spare me.”