Sinners & Saints (Sinners & Saints #1) (5 page)

“Maybe.” I make sure I say this with sincerity. Then cue
overcast. “But like Marley said himself, love the life you live. Live the life
you love.”

As I predict, David smiles to himself and looks me in the
eyes, dazed and confused. “And I do love weed and cocaine. And the people love
weed and coke. And the people pay more for coke.” He laughs, shrugging off the
hypocrisy within him and I sit the bong on the table as Nina arrives with the
merchandise.

People never shock me. They all reek with predictability.
Even me. People will always be pawns with angels and devils on their shoulders,
trying to stir them down or away from the path of their own desires. I would
always be that devil on their shoulders.

JULIET

“So when did all of you start living
here?” I ask before I take a sip of my cocktail. Raided Ms. Eleanor’s liquor
cabinet, we did indeed. And according to them, she never minds. As long as it
is in the house
—
that’s her
main rule. I knew I would like her.

“I’ve been here since I was fifteen.
Poppy too. Cody came two years ago,” Jordana answers.

“What schools do you attend?”

“I’m attending Princeton,” Cody answers
in a very snobbish way. I don’t think he means it in that way. I think he’s
just overly proud of himself, which he is entitled to be.

“Sarah Lawrence,” Jordana answers.

“Columbia,” Poppy says and my mouth
drops.

Jordana laughs, noticing my twisted
expression.

“Poppy’s dad donated a lot of money to
the school,” Jordana explains.

“I’m so sorry, Poppy, I didn’t mean…”

She shrugs, still smiling that bubbly
smile. “It’s okay. I’m fine with Daddy buying my ticket to success. I actually
hope to one day be a makeup artist to the celebrities.”

“That’s nice. I’m actually going to be
attending there also.”

She claps in excitement.

“Do you like Sarah Lawrence?” I ask
Jordana. “I have a cousin who graduated from there.”

Cody laughs a little. “Yeah, she loves
it there.”

Jordana smirks and takes a sip of her
wine.

“One of the main reasons Jordana wanted
to go to Sarah Lawrence was because it had a woman’s name, which symbolized for
her that it would consist of the purest of Aphrodite’s from all around,” Cody
explains.

“So, you’re gay?” I knew it.
 

“I don’t really like labels, but yes,”
she answers. “I do prefer the female sex over the other. Men are too incompetent
to satisfy me and I’ve always loved the softer luxuries of life in every form.”
She speaks with confidence and ease. Her light yet raspy voice adds to the
self-assurance that Jordana is a woman of her own nature.

“And she likes seducing straight women,”
Poppy adds.

“Don’t worry,” Jordana says, but I’m
not. I’ve kissed a girl before, but the only soft body I love is mine and I
love a man’s hard exterior to wrap itself around me. “You’re very gorgeous, but
what Poppy fails to understand is that I seduce straight women who are seducible.
I have a pretty accurate gaydar and I can tell you would be curious but not
about that life,” she says with a flirtatious smile. “Like, for instance,
everyone thinks Cody is gay, but really he is just a timid boy with a phobia
for the female anatomy.”

“The hell I am.” Cody’s face turns sour
and we laugh. “Everyone is just racist because of the fact that I’m black they
all think I should be a confident, gangster wannabe, urban, bad boy or whatever
stereotype bullshit. I can’t help that I am in tune with my more sensitive and
sophisticated side.”

“More like Carlton Banks side,” Jordana
says.

“She seduced me,” Poppy says still
nonchalant and bubbly and I am not surprised by this.

“Poppy doesn’t really count,” Jordana
laughs. “She sleeps with anyone.”

“Daddy says you should at least try
something new once. How else would you know if you like it or not?”

“I’m sure he was referring to categories
like food, places, and things. Not threesomes with strangers and drugs.”

“Well, either way, I think I have a very
healthy sexual appetite. I’ve come a long way from my baiting days.”

“Baiting days?” I question her.

“I used to be bait for anyone Scarlett
had to blackmail.”

My eyes widen. I’ve heard some pretty
fucked up things in my life, but this is at the top. Okay wait, maybe not
—
now that I think about the time one of
my friends got mixed up with a stable boy, a history professor from Cambridge
and a lot of ketamine. I think a horse was involved too.
 

 
“What have you heard about the kids that
live with Ms. Eleanor?” Jordana asks.

“Well, that you’re all the spawn of
Satan and that you destroy everything you touch.” I might as well be truthful.
I was never much for sugarcoating and I realize that they aren’t either, which
I absolutely love.

 
“Well that’s dramatic but closely
accurate.”

“I’m trying to remember your group name…
the…” I trail off.

“The Sinful Saints,” Jordana answers.
“That name is very cheesy and bland by the way.”

“I like it,” Poppy pouts.

“What about you, Cody?” I eye him
curiously.

“Cody is the only one that hasn’t really
done anything here. Well, except August too,” Poppy adds. “You know, because
he’s disabled.” Her face is sincere. I can tell Poppy may not be the brightest,
but she is the sweetest even when it comes to rude things spilling out of her
mouth.

“So what about his brother, Hugo?” I
ask, loving the way his name sounds. Why is that?
 

They all remain silent, Poppy and
Jordana glancing at each other with grins and Cody shaking his head.

“Well, Hugo is probably the one they
refer to as the devil himself,” Jordana informs me.

“Is he that bad?”

 
“Define bad,” Cody drawls.

“Hugo has been here since he was fifteen.
He came months before me,” Jordana says. “He is the soul prodigy of Scarlett.”

“Okay, who is this Scarlett?” I finally
ask, having heard this girl’s name for the third time now.

“Scarlett Brayson, one of the original
Sinful saints along with Hugo and August’s older brother. She had been here
since she was twelve or thirteen. She’s truly the devil in a woman’s body or if
we want to go all out, she is the woman who gave birth to the devil. She kind
of mentored all of us a little. Her reign of terror will forever be the best
and worst of her.”

“Soooo…” I trail off. “And I say this
with complete shock, yet respect, she basically taught you how to be
promiscuous, manipulative, and heartless beautiful creatures.”

“Aw,” Poppy’s adorable innocent looking
eyes light up at me, her bottom lip poking out. “You think we’re beautiful?”

“She taught us how not to be bored.” Before
I can answer, a voice appears, adding to my theory of beautiful creatures
because when I turn around, I am in awe. A tall boy is leaning against the wall
staring at us with his hands in his pockets. First thing I notice about him is
the sunglasses he wears. Very nice pair of shades he’s rockin, but that beauty
of the aviator sunglasses is not what is getting my notice. The black tinted lenses
are hiding his eyes and I want to see his eyes. I want to see everything about
him. He’s that bloody alluring. I fancy him right off the bat.
 
Fuck me, I knew it! I knew when I heard
his name I was going to be in deep shit!

“Hugo, nice of you to join us,” Poppy confirms
who he is. I observe his attire and the way he stands. He stands cool and
proud. Arrogance pours out of him, but not the kind that makes him a brute. He
is intelligent, maybe too intelligent. And I dare to suggest that the most
violent thing about him is his mind.

“Hello all.” He doesn’t smile nor
scowls.

“Hugo, this is our new roommate, the
lovely Juliet Spears,” Jordana introduces me and I stand up as he walks to us.
His jawbone is strong and his lips have volume. I’m very sure they’re soft.
Instead of giving me a proper hello, he grabs the cocktail
—
my cocktail
—
and drinks from it. My lips part
slightly and oddly; I want to both slap and kiss him. He knows that’s my drink.
He wants to test me, see what I will do. See how much I can take. He’s a person
who loves to test people. Too bad he doesn’t know that I’m very good at this
game. He sits the drink back on the table and faces me. I know he’s staring at
me through his shades. I can feel his concealed eyes burning into me. He licks
his lips, not forcibly, but naturally enough to light my fanny on fire.
Shit!

“Hugo Mandrake.” From the way he says
his name to the way he extends his hand for me to shake… it is the definition
of smooth.

“Lovely to meet you.” I place my hand on
his, the skin soft which is to be expected, but by the look of the way the
v-neck frames his chest, that body is very hard. He smells of wealth. People of
wealth always have a distinct smell to them. We smell of the usual high-end
fragrances and soap delivered from other countries because we are led to
believe our skin is made of gold and needs to be treated like gold. Really all
we need is fucking Dove to be okay. But if I ever may be so bold about Hugo,
the lad does seem to be made up of gold. The type of gold that is first dug out
from deep within the dirt; gold that has not been weighed or cleaned yet.
Still, when you dig it up, you can’t help but to love it because you know that
you have found the one thing that may change everything.

He leans forward and gently kisses my
hand. The gentle touch of his lips almost causes my knees to buckle, but I’m
not for the theatrics and this guy is clearly over the top.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He holds my
hand a bit longer before letting go.

“Where did you go this morning?” Jordana
asks him as we sit back down.

“I went and bought the usual convivial
house remedy. We were running low,” he answers.

He sits down on the couch across from Jordana
and me. He sits the small messenger bag he has on him and pours out loads of
drugs on the glass coffee table.

“Yay!” Poppy claps her hands, grinning
like a kid in a candy store.

“Well, I guess this really is a house
full of sinners.” I say eyeing the coke and what appears to be molly and ganja,
which is my usual drug of choice.

“Well, isn’t everyone a sinner?” Hugo
asks me as he leans back against the couch stretching his arms out like he is
king. I guess I’m going to have to knock him off his throne.

“Well, of course, but there are still
saints too,” I answer.

“And which are you?”

“Well, I think I’m both. I personally
consider myself a good-natured posh bastard.”

“But what do you partake in more? Do you
sin more than good?”

“I like to think that I have a perfect
balance going on. I have good intentions in the things I do, so hopefully I’m
doing what is best.”

“And doing good is what’s best?”

“Yes.”

“Says who? God?” he phrases God in
slight amusement.

I shrug. “I don’t know, but I take it
you don’t praise the man upstairs.”

“I have my personal quarrel with him, if
he does exist.”

“Well, even if he didn’t exist, what’s
the point of misery all the time? Unless you are a psychotic sociopath with no
feelings, guilt is bound to take over.”

“But isn’t guilt pointless when even
knowing the repercussions of the sin, you still go on ahead and do it? If God
does exist, the audacity of us consuming ourselves in guilt is a spit in his
face.”

That was fucking sexy! I smile slyly at
him. “Very good argument, but forgiveness does exist. Everyone is capable of
redemption at some point.”

“The weak are usually the ones who
apologize for their mishaps. They are those that acquire attention in the
beginning because it makes them feel better. I’ve learned to never be sorry for
who you are.”

“Well, I can’t say that I’m sorry for
all the things I’ve done, but I still own up to them. I don’t expect pity; I
only hope for forgiveness and acceptance. So should all.” I sit up straight and
so does he. After five minutes of introduction, we are already playing a chess
game of words. I love it. “So what about you, Hugo? Which do you normally
partake in?”
As if I even need to ask.

“Didn’t you hear? I’m the devil,” he
speaks with conviction. He is clearly making it known to me that this is who he
is. No mystery, no loophole, nothing else but this. My first mind tells me to
back off, Juliet. You don’t want any part of this guy. But like always I don’t
listen to it.

 
“Well, even the devil has a heart,” I say
softly and make it known that I mean it in the most sincere way possible. I
want him to know that I can sense more. I want him to fear me because I do not
fear him.