“Call Daddy. I’m sure there’s room for one more.”
“Give me your phone.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to make sure he answers.” It’s true. He’ll pick up for Kinsley every single time. My calls are usually met with the enthusiasm of a telemarketer.
She tosses it over, and I put in the call.
“Hans Lionheart.” He always answers that way. It makes no difference if he knows who the incoming call is from. My father is a master at head games. He didn’t garner his billions by coddling anybody’s feelings—certainly not mine. My mother made sure to keep both my sister and me far away from his money. The only thing he was allowed to provide was our education, and, even then, I went to public school up until my sister died. That’s when I all but ran away from my mother. I let my father lock me up in an ivory tower boarding school, along with the core, and pretended I didn’t care about the ever-increasing chasm I was building between both of my parents.
He clears his throat, his impatience already at a palpable level.
“It’s me, Claire.” I take a sharp breath. Kinsley shoots me a look. God, did I just say that? “It’s Stevie.” I squeeze my eyes shut a moment. I get so nervous around my father. I doubt he even remembers Claire, let alone cares if she’s calling from the great beyond. “Look, I didn’t get the internship at Merlin. For whatever reason, I was moved to Jinx.” I’ve already discussed in detail with my father that a part of the class was headed into enemy territory. We regarded it as a joke—openly laughed that they’d need to be reeducated if they survived the trauma. Jinx is notorious for nurturing dropouts and making them one of their own. We toasted with our mimosas that I would be learning the ropes at Merlin where I belonged. “Can you call Dr. Bennett or send her a quick email and get me back to Merlin?”
“Absolutely not.” There’s a slight lilt in his voice leftover from his boyhood days in Norway. My father still swallows every r that tries to roll from his lips. “I want you to seize the opportunity—scope out the landscape. Once you graduate, you’ll have a place at Merlin. For now, dig into the trenches with the enemy, report back to me.” He pauses. “I don’t want you to repeat what I’m about to say, but I think Jinx would be a good companion for Merlin.”
A beat of silence ticks by. My father just threatened to eat Jinx like an afternoon snack—foie gras on organic wheat toast with the edges trimmed off. Something enlivens in me at the thought of playing secret agent. For a moment, I picture myself pulling out files and making copies at midnight—hacking into their financial docs and emailing all the sensitive information to my father. Something like this has the ability to change our relationship for the better. I could move from the cold-hearted outdoor of his heart—stop floating on that glacier all by my lonesome while Kinsley and Lincoln cozy up to the fire of his affection—and, if I play my company-stealing cards right, move right into his coveted inner circle. I’d earn my way into the core. Of course, I’ll have to commit corporate treason to do it, but something deep inside me has always wanted to get into my father’s good graces. I pinch my lips at the thought. Only two weeks ago I was suicidal and ready to tear my father a new one, and, now, with Ford by my proverbial side, I feel stronger than ever. The truth is I never really wanted to rip my father apart. I wanted to draw in close and beg him to hold me. Helping him tear the rug out from under Jinx is probably as close as I’ll get.
“What do you say?” He growls into the phone with tight restraint.
“Yes. Of course, I’ll do it. I’ll always be loyal to you, Daddy.” I swallow my pride as we hang up then smile at my sister.
A thought comes to me, blanketing my brief moment of happiness with a shroud of darkness—the dark is always hungry for any sign of joy I might have. If I were to be accepted into the core, that would leave Aspen as the only other Lionheart bastard still out in the cold.
“You called him Daddy.” Kinsley’s eyes widen with jealousy. That’s her moniker for him. I, more or less, refrain from addressing him at all. What the hell is happening to me? Goofy grins? Shouting out Daddy like I mean it? I used to call myself Iron Heart as a play on my last name—cold as steel, tough as iron. I can never be broken. Those are my mantras, not I hope my boyfriend likes me in this dress and let me kiss my father’s feet. Holy hell, how the mighty have fallen.
I cut a quick glance out the window as the heat melts the sidewalks to puddles, and here my own heart is experiencing a gentle thaw.
“I was kidding.” I toss the phone over at her. And I was. I’d never leave Aspen out in the cold. She and I both know the core is locked and sealed with blood and holy matrimony, and neither of us could ax our way in if we tried.
An image of me handing Jinx to my father on a silver platter flits through my mind.
A part of me feels as if I already have a foot in the chamber of my father’s dark heart.
But I still ache for Aspen.
The internship is funneled through my Real World Socioeconomics class and offers three units for fall and spring respectively. The internship is crucial to meeting the stringent graduation requirements set by Rigby University, which means my schedule will be psychotic this year with my internship on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday and a full load on Tuesdays and Thursdays. A part of me realizes I should be moaning about how tough this year is going to be, but, with half the week spent off campus, I already feel the freedom that graduation will bring. I’m still mulling over the idea of grad school. I thought I had Merlin wrapped around my finger, and, now, here I am at some flea-riddled oversized litter box where they worship felines and continue to pummel my father’s company into the ground. I wouldn’t dare tell “Daddy” that Jinx has already kicked Merlin’s technological ass. Merlin has become a stomping ground for grandparents and forty-somethings who show off nonstop pictures of their spinach smoothies and toothless children. Jinx is far more intricate to navigate, and has become a mecca for the under twenty-five sect, myself included. If my father ever found out my secret love for the enemy, I’d simply call it research.
Jinx corporate offices are located in the heart of Breakers Canyon, the Silicon Valley of Southern California. Like everything else in the Southland, it’s just twenty minutes away from the armpit of L.A.
Jinx is spread over, what feels like, acres with a tall skyscraper acting as the central hub surrounded by volleyball courts, a full-scale outdoor gym, a yoga retreat. It even has its own biosphere with an eco-forest, complete with subtropical fruits indigenous to parts of the world, I’m pretty sure I’ll never visit. It’s not that I’m afraid to visit those places, it’s just, logistically speaking, I’m afraid to travel to those places. It all boils down to my fear of flying, and, ironically, it boils down even further to my fear of dying. Yes, suicide was high on my birthday wish list, but, now that I didn’t go through with it, I’m pretty damn glad to be alive.
Ford texted earlier and offered to take me to RUSH, a new hip restaurant downtown that specializes in Asian fusion cuisine. It’s expensive as hell, and I’m pretty sure he can’t afford it, so I counter offered with a picnic on the beach. Hell, we could visit Shipwrecks again, and I can tell him all about the time I almost drowned there. Anyway, he said he has a quick meeting, but that I might be able to twist his arm later.
A familiar looking crowd blooms at the entrance of the building. I recognize some of the people from my business classes. Our entire division was equally parceled out to a bevy of local corporations who were kind enough to brave a group of college interns for the duration of our senior year, Merlin being one of them. But I’m not working for my father. He’ll never get to see me kiss enough ass to brownnose my way to the top. I suppose there’s no need for ass kissing now. I can coast my way through the next nine months, so there’s that.
An arm flails in my direction from under the effigy of a large black cat with glowing yellow eyes that have a backlit effect. That’s the company logo. Everybody knows that damn cat—Jinx. I’ve got a Jinx app
on just about every device I own. Just because I’m about to skin that oversized alley cat and serve it to my father, doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it. In fact, I should enjoy it that much more because, if I play my cards right, I’ll be running the place come June. Other people dream of climbing the corporate ladder, I dream of company takeovers in the name of nepotism.
The arm flails in my direction again. “Stevie!” A high-pitched voice rises above the crowd, and I spot Arabella Rothmore jumping up and down in her practical tan suit and very impractical patent red heels. Arabella is better known as Oral-Copu-Bella in the business program, at least by the guys. The girls just call her Bella.
“Belly, baby!” I give her a quick hug. Bella is a bouncy blonde who packs a powerful mammary punch. She’s perky and loud, and have I mentioned big boobs equal lots of bad boys? She dated Lincoln once briefly. So there’s that. We hardly ever hang out although she’s pretty nice—far too nice for my brother. Really her only crime is being human since I make it a point to stay away from the hideous beasts on a regular basis. Besides, I’m far more low-key to ever mesh with her bubbly personality. I’m all snark and lots of bite, and apparently she’s all suck and no teeth. I’m a loner. She’s a party animal, thus the wondrous chasm.
“I didn’t know you had this assignment!” Her red-clad feet break out in a spontaneous tap dance, creating a ring of fire effect in my peripheral vision.
“It’s the old bait and switch. I prepare all summer for Merlin, and here I am.” Story of my life.
Dr. Bennett materializes from the center of the crowd. She’s tall, like Amazonian tall, with short over-processed blonde hair, wire-rimmed glasses and a skin-colored mole on the tip of her nose.
“Listen up!” She barks over the crowd of at least fifty of Rigby’s finest. “Welcome to the corporate world. You’ve been training your entire lives for this moment. I’ll head in with you for the orientation, but, after that, you’ll be assigned a preceptor who’ll instruct and monitor you and will report all progress back to me.” She gives a stern look around while the sun presses over us like a griddle. “Our lawyers have worked very hard to partner with this fine firm. If any one of you costs us this contract, we will immediately terminate you from the program.”
A gasp circles among us. Come to find out there’s no hotter circle in hell than the one expulsion lands you in. Most students who attend elite private schools are afraid of their own shadow. You would think prison waited on the other side of those ivy walls the way the inmates dread the real world. Lucky for me, I’ve been on both sides of the asylum, so I know all too well how this game is played. Life is a game best played alone with an iron fortress around your heart so it can’t get broken. It’s one of my mother’s mantras, and, after Claire died, it was one I committed to memory.
We migrate over to the elevators as a herd. My phone bleats in my pocket, and I fish it out. It’s a text from Ford.
Clock Tower is playing at the Bowl tonight. Hit it after RUSH?
I give a private smile. There’s no way I’m letting him haul me all over Hollywood, throwing his hard-earned money out the window just to make me feel special.
I send a quick text back just as Bella and I step onto the elevator.
I’m a simple girl. You don’t have to impress me. We’ll hit a drive-thru and eat at Shipwrecks.
“What’s this?” Bella snatches the phone from my hand as the elevator whooshes us up in one quick gravity-defying moment. “Stevie Eaton has a boyfriend?”
I cut a quick glance around at the crowd pressed shoulder-to-shoulder. Who cares if they know I have a boyfriend?
“Maybe.” I take my phone back. “Or maybe I just like to smile on Mondays because everyone else hates them so much.” It’s true.
The doors open with a hiss and a low-lying ooh breaks out from those on the front line. Loud, but not overbearing music streams from overhead. I recognize the rap song as one that my neighbor played on a loop all summer. The walls in my dorm are so thin I actually prefer the rap to their 3 A.M. fucking.
We stride out onto an expansive floor with open-air offices which most of the plebeians call home and miles of glass walls that stretch as far down as the corridor in either direction.
“Welcome to the hive.” A dark-haired man a little older than us cups his hands around his mouth. “My name is Jener with one n, and I will be your orientation assistant this afternoon.” He gives a cheesy grin while panning over the crowd, molesting the girls with his eyes before proceeding. “To your right, you can see we have the think tanks in full effect.” Two sectionals are joined to create one giant square with the narrowest of access gaps. People lie around with their noses buried in laptops, headphones pressed to their ears just like at school, and I frown. Not one “employee” in the hive is decked out in corporate garb. They’re all wearing T-shirts and jeans—old worn out shit at that. I glance down at my navy blue smart suit, as Kinsley dubbed it and suddenly feel stupid for listening to her—although there was that threat from Dr. Bennett, so I feel a touch justified. Besides, the look is growing on me.
“Let’s move over to the recreational therapy section.” He speeds us over to a bona fide arcade with four ping-pong tables, two pool tables in the back and rows and rows of pinball machines lining the walls. They blink and whir, creating a juvenile spectacle of themselves while a small army of Jinx employees test out the controls. God, why do all the people here look unkempt? One guy has hair to his shoulders all ratted into a bird’s nest. A girl wears a pair of ill-fitted jeans so low on her waist they look as if they’re about to slip off. “At Jinx we believe there’s nothing more inspirational than being hard at play. Some of our best ideas have come to us in this very wing.”
Right. I roll my eyes at the adolescent angst oozing from those hard at play. None of this would ever fly at Merlin. In fact, this is the anti-Merlin. My father may want to rethink this acquisition. It’s going to take a lot more than a business suit to reprogram the great unwashed from their pinball hero days.
I lean into Bella. “I bet some of those great ideas included installing a brick pizza oven and a Cheetos vending machine. That bio-dome is nothing but a cover-up for their reefer farm.”
She starts in on a hyperventilating chortle, and the small group from Rigby turns to see what the commotion is about.
“Anything you’d like to share?” Jener’s face pinches tight. He’s cute in a North Pole castoff kind of way with his pointy ears and ski slope nose.
“I’m sorry. My friend laughs when she’s nervous.” I lie because lying is the language of every man. Had I told the truth, everyone would be laughing, and I don’t think Jener with one ‘n’ would have appreciated that.
“Very well. Make your way into the boardroom. The official orientation is about to begin. Lucky for us there’s an executives meeting this afternoon, and they were kind enough to stop by and introduce themselves.”
Another circular ooh whispers through the crowd at the mention of corporate royalty. I peer into the boardroom since I’ve no desire to kiss any corporate feet during my stay in the litter box. A bevy of black leather chairs dot the periphery of a long, dark table. Nothing but simple lines, chrome with a chic black and white theme. It’s the only remotely corporate looking office that we’ve been exposed to so far.
“God”—Bella slaps me over the arm, hard enough to leave a welt—“the Cannon brothers are here!” She gives it in a whisper-shout, and suddenly I’m caught up with trying to make myself taller in my heels, so I can catch a glimpse of the corporate princes.
A group of men in matching business suits, in various scales of gray, stand toward the front. I have no idea which ones are brothers. They all share the same dark hair, the same hearty smile as they talk amongst themselves. Obviously they draw the line of casual attire at the boardroom.
Someone bumps hard into my shoulder from behind, and I find an ungodly tall brunette stabbing her heels into the ground as she makes her way past me with fury. I glance
down to see if she’s on stilts.
“Who the hell puts the toilet paper under?” She barks at a petite blonde pecking behind her as if trying to keep up. “Next person to use my bathroom gets shot on sight.” She cuts me a quick look that says I’ll knife you without thinking twice, so I transfer my gaze back to the boys with their boxy padded shoulders. They share a gentle laugh. The corporate gods keep to themselves. I doubt a single one of them has ever played ping-pong down the hall.
Bella latches onto my elbow. “We’d better get to our seats.”
One of the suits turns and my eyes snag on that familiar smile, those laughing eyes. He cuts a look in my direction and does a quick double take.
“Oh, my God,” I whisper with a smile hedging on my lips. “It’s Ford.” I wave my hand high over my head like a giddy schoolgirl. Holy crap, his face is clean-shaven.
You shaved, I mouth pointing to my cheek. Just the sight of it makes that tender part of me quiver for him. I want to feel the smoothness over my thighs. My panties melt just thinking about the things he’s going to do to me with that clean-shaven perfection. Maybe we can break into his brother’s beach house for a few hours tonight?
“Who are you talking to?” Bella moves me back into the elongated, over air-conditioned boardroom.
“It’s him.” I wrangle my elbow free as the pieces start to fall into place. He’s a driver. Of course—he probably works for Jinx. I bet he’s in charge of one of those Cannon brothers. That’s why he was at my father’s party.
I struggle to break through the crowd and make my way to Ford, but the Rigby salmon are swimming their way upstream, toward their seats, and it’s impossible to go against the flow of traffic. I bob and weave my way forward, but the crowd presses me back until I’m standing next to the empty chair Bella reserved for me.
“Let’s get started!” Jener barks it out. The noise in the room dies down, and suddenly everyone’s bottom is grafted onto a black leather chair.