Hateful liar, p.1
Hateful Liar, page 1
part #1 of Saint Juliet Academy Series
HATEFUL LIAR
SAINT JULIET ACADEMY BOOK 1
A.J. LOGAN
Copyright © 2023 A.J. LOGAN
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Edited by KD Proofreading
www.kdproofreading.com
CONTENTS
1. Morgan
2. Cade
3. Morgan
4. Cade
5. Morgan
6. Cade
7. Cade
8. Morgan
9. Cade
10. Morgan
11. Cade
12. Morgan
13. Cade
14. Morgan
15. Cade
16. Morgan
17. Cade
18. Morgan
19. Cade
20. Morgan
21. Cade
22. Cade
23. Morgan
24. Cade
25. Morgan
26. Cade
27. Morgan
28. Cade
29. Morgan
30. Cade
31. Morgan
32. Cade
Vicious Liar
About the Author
1
MORGAN
Is this day ever gonna freakin’ end? It sure doesn’t feel like it as I squirm against the sticky leather seat of the golf cart, extending my legs fully over the dash. Even in what should be a comfortable enough position, I can’t relax. The heavy, humid air shows no mercy, so even out of the sun, under the cart’s roof cover, just being outside is enough to make me miserable. But it’s the same conversation, on repeat once again that wears on my last nerve.
“If he doesn’t play, Saint Juliet Academy is screwed. We may as well forfeit the entire season.” Dad makes his plea once again to his assistant coach, the pitiful chump who’s worked all summer to accomplish Dad’s ridiculous request of getting a replacement QB since his star quarterback broke his precious throwing arm.
If only my dad cherished the people he shares a home with as much as he does his players or the prized state championship he’s been after since assuming the head coach role at Saint Juliet a few years ago. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that it’s the only position he cares to focus on.
“The kid’s shown up for every practice since we got his brother on board. Mark my words—Cade Crawford will be on the field. And if not, we’ll figure out a way to persuade him to be,” Paul says with a tone that clearly indicates he’s got no qualms breaking more than a few rules. Rules that were put in place to avoid players from being “persuaded” to play for the wrong reasons. And I’m sure Dad one hundred percent agrees with Paul’s methods.
“Well, he didn’t show up today. Sweeten the deal. I need him or all this shit is pointless.” Dad tosses his 7 iron, highlighting his frustration. The steel club hits the grass with a thud. And he claims I’m the dramatic one.
Well, he’s not wrong about that one. I am dramatic. But I haven’t thrown anything. Today. “Can we go now?” My question is lost on Dad as he picks up the club and continues on his recruitment quest.
My brother, however, is happy to kill my dream of getting out of the stifling heat. “Stop whining. You wanted to come.”
“Yeah. For one round, which we finished an hour ago.” Since then, Dad and Paul have stood on the driving range of Crescent Fleur Country Club, running their mouths but not actually taking more than a handful of shots. “And usually by now, you’d be the one crying to go home. Why is today different?”
Hm. I hadn’t thought of that until now. Usually, Ryder grumbles about the heat or the game or something equally annoying that starts an argument with Dad before I even have a chance to complain.
“No difference. I’m just enjoying this fabulous sunny day before we’re imprisoned in the classroom tomorrow.”
“Bullshit. This weather fuckin’ sucks. It feels like we’re simmering in Lucifer’s ass crack.”
Ryder leans towards me and takes a quick sniff before scrunching his nose. “You smell like it too.”
“Not gonna work.” He’s trying to piss me off to distract me from something. Lifting my legs, my skin pulls away from the sticky dash as I drop my feet down and sit up, glancing around the area and down the line of players. There’re less members than normal around, but one catches my eye. His long, lean body, perfectly aligned from the start to finish of his swing, is hard to miss. And as much as Ryder wants to pretend he’s not paying attention, I’d bet he knows the exact form of said perfection. Harrison. “Ah. Pathetic,” I snicker, waiting for Ryder’s reaction.
And he obliges. “You’re fucking pathetic, not him.”
I laugh, watching as Harrison sends another ball gliding through the air. “I wasn’t talking about him. I was talking about you.”
Ryder isn’t sharing my humor. “Fuck off.”
“Right after you stop stalking Harrison and go talk to him.”
Ryder glances at Dad. “Nah. I’m good.”
“What? It’s not like Dad gives a damn.” He can’t. It has nothing to do with his precious title or glory days. And Dad has already shown that having a son who sucks at football is the ultimate strike to his ego. Dad’s, not Ryder’s. Because God forbid the former NFL player have a son who doesn’t follow in his footsteps and represent the King legacy. Which is what I believe Dad’s pathetic obsession with the silly high school state championship title is all about. It’s the closest he’ll come to his past glory days.
“No, but he’ll still make a point to interrupt and talk to Harrison about something sports related.”
“That’s nothing but an excuse to stalk him from a distance. Dad is too busy trying to suck Crawford’s dick to worry about whose dick you’re sucking.”
“Fucking drop it, Morgan.”
“That’s the plan.” I glance around, noting Dad is definitely not concerned about us or leaving anytime soon. Stepping off the golf cart, I look back at my brother before walking towards Harrison.
“What the fuck are you doing?” My brother’s gritted words tell me he’s pissed, and that just makes it that much more enjoyable when Harrison looks my way as I walk over.
“Nice form.” I don’t have to look over my shoulder to know Ryder is standing just behind me because I’d feel his fury from a mile away. “Ryder needs help with his swing.” It’s the truth. Ryder sucks at golf as much as he does at football. Another distressing point for Dad.
My golf game is great. Top-notch in fact. But I was counted out at birth; the moment Dad realized his firstborn dared to have a vagina. He was arguably even more disappointed when his second child, although a boy, didn’t have a knack for the game. Surprisingly, Ryder doesn’t seem to give two shits about Dad or his opinion. Wish I could say the same.
“I don’t need any help.” Ryder’s hand grips my forearm, tugging me. But I plant myself in place.
“Liar,” I snicker.
“Seriously, I’m not the one who had five shanks.” Ryder’s smile rises as he gives me shit about my performance.
“Yeah, because some dumbass kept yelling fore every time I took a fucking swing.”
“Just training you under pressure.”
“I’m not the one who needs training—or who’s buckling under pressure.” I smirk at Ryder before glancing to Harrison.
The poor guy looks a little confused, but he’s still totally on board to help out. “I don’t mind giving some tips if you want.”
“Perfect.” I slap Ryder on the arm. “I’m gonna find Mom.”
I need to get at least one parent on board if I want to leave this godforsaken country club anytime soon. Usually I’d have my Audi, but today I’d opted to ride with my parents—like the dumbass I just accused Ryder of being. And I’m aware of the pissy look he gives me as I walk away, but his face lights up when he starts talking to Harrison. I’m sure Ryder doesn’t love to chat it up about golf, but Harrison is a helpful guy and golf was the easiest way to break the ice. He’s a junior—as is Ryder—and already has two full-ride offers on the table from elite universities.
About halfway to the clubhouse, I fully regret not hijacking the damn cart. Once I finally reach the side entrance, I head straight to the restaurant’s bar along the back wall. Ashton gives me a quick wink as he slides a glass of ice water across the bar.
“A Jack and Coke too.” I take a big swallow of water, the icy liquid burning my throat on its way down.
He glances around, shaking his head. “Can’t do.”
I take a few sips of water, my eyes on him. “Yes. You can.”
There’s no one within hearing distance, yet he keeps scanning down each length of the bar. “No, I can’t. Not only would I be serving an eighteen-year-old liquor, but your dad would kill me if he found out.”
A grin stretches across my face as I watch Ashton’s panic increase. Leaning forward, I slide the water back to him. “He’d kill you if he knew you had me bent over this very bar.” I glance down the length of the smooth marble countertop as the less-than-thrilling night from months ago pops into my mind.
Ashton’s eyes drop to his hands, his jaw flexing as he reaches for a clean tumbler and fulfills my drink request. He drops it o
“Oh, trust me, I’d want to deny that two-minute dull show if I were you too. But at least you got off.” I hold up the glass in a mocking toast before taking a drink.
He mumbles some colorful words under his breath as I take my much-needed drink and head out to the pool area. I’d expected to find Mom there, enjoying several cocktails, but she might’ve already had her fill. Not surprising either way—we’ve been here for over five fuckin’ hours.
Once out on the pool deck, I glance around to see a few members lounging on chaises and only one swimmer making laps in the Olympic-sized pool. But nowhere do I see Mom. Great.
I make a full lap around the club, visiting all the places she could be before ending up poolside again. I’m standing there, looking around like an idiot, before I finally spot her. Only I wish I hadn’t seen what my eyes are witnessing. She’s walking out the banquet room door, heading towards me. And she’s alone, but seconds later, Mr. Thatcher walks out and heads in the opposite direction.
Of all people, my freakin’ principal. It’s a good thing no one, including Dad, pays them much mind. Discretion is not their thing.
“Hey, Morgan.” Mom grabs the glass from my hand and downs the liquid without a comment about the contents.
“Can we leave now? Dad is too busy trying to plot his great QB snag to worry about us melting to death.”
“Yeah. I’ll get him.” Walking past me she says, “Go for a swim if you want to cool down.”
“Sure.” I wave my hand down my sleeveless mint polo and white golf skirt. “Because I’d planned to swim today.”
Mom is already on the other side of the patio area when I spot Ryder headed in my direction. She halts and heads back my way behind my less-than-cheerful-looking brother. My guess is he’s not happy with me whether the chat with Harrison went well or not.
As my brother approaches, he gives me a pissy stare. “Dad said it’s time to go.”
“About fuckin’ time.” I was three minutes away from calling an Uber or hitchhiking if I had to.
There’s no time for me to celebrate the good news though, because Ryder walks directly at me, and I register too late that his hands move up and out. And before I know it, he’s shoved me. I don’t have a chance to react, I’m simply flying backwards through the air before landing in the pool with a splash. Swimming my way back to the surface, I brush my hands over my face, already cussing my damn brother out as I try and take in a few breaths.
Ryder squats down at the edge of the pool, giving me a sly smirk. “That’s what you get for being a meddling bitch.”
“Fuck you, jackass.” I swat the surface of the water, sending a splash his way that mostly misses him.
He gives me another triumphant smirk before walking away as he hollers over his shoulder, “Love you too, sis.”
Swimming to the steps of the pool, I climb out then look down at my drenched clothes. Asshole. It might’ve been humorous if the pool didn’t feel like freakin’ bath water, but now I’m not only hot, I’m also stuck in drenched clothes too. Grabbing the hem of my shirt, I pull it over my head.
I don’t know how, but I’m going to get Ryder back for this. Yeah. I meddled. But for his own good, and if I hadn’t, he’d still be sitting in the golf cart drooling over Harrison.
“Morgan King, what on earth are you doing?” Mom’s expression matches her shocked tone as she looks to my lace bra. “Put your shirt back on. Don’t you have any respect for yourself? Or at least for your father and me?” She glances around, checking to see if anyone is looking, and all it does is piss me off even more.
Hooking the waistband of my skirt, I pull it down, remove it, and make a dramatic show of wringing the chlorinated water out of it. With my eyes locked on my mother, I say, “I forgot. It’s only respectable to remove your clothes when you’re fucking your daughter’s principal behind closed doors.”
Her wide-eyed expression gives me the satisfaction I craved. Yeah. I know her dirty little secret. And now the last thing on her mind is her daughter walking across the pool deck in her bra and thong.
2
CADE
I see the irritation in Dustin’s stance before I spot the frustration plain as day on his face. I’m well versed, I’ve seen it plenty times. Not that I expect any different from my brother. Can’t blame the guy—he’s shouldered the burden of raising me the last three years since neither of our parents cared to do the job. Most of the time, Dustin doesn’t seem to mind being responsible for me, his nuisance of a little brother who’s always hanging around. But right now, he’s in dad mode not big brother mode. And I’m gonna hear all about it.
He stands to the side of my truck, one hand on his hip and the other signaling for me to step out of my vehicle.
Sluggishly, I do as he asks. Why I even drove to this place, I couldn’t say. Maybe because I thought he’d be annoyed and would’ve already bailed. But my guess is he’s still here solely because there’s a silver Maybach parked across the lot that belongs to Coach King.
Dustin keeps a tight expression and a way-too-calm tone, which reminds me of how our dad sounds before he explodes on us. “Where were you, Cade? You gave me your word you’d show.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I lean back against the hot truck door. “I’m here. I showed.”
“Hours late. What the hell are you trying to prove?”
“Nothing.”
“Really? I think you’re determined to run your life into the ground just like Dad—and just like him, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”
Every muscle in my body tenses as I look to my brother. He knows that’s the worst insult to throw at me. Nothing else could rile me more than being compared to that piece of shit. “I’m nothing like him.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” His sarcasm is heavy as he shakes his head, and the disappointment on his face is another thing that bothers me even if it shouldn’t.
“Why? Because I didn’t show up to impress some douche who wants me to throw a fuckin’ ball around to impress guys who are just like our father? I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I’ve attended that preppy-ass school full of assholes for the last three years and agreed to finish out senior year there and get my fuckin’ piece of paper. That was our deal.”
“That piece of paper is just the beginning. I went out of my way to get hired on so you could attend the best school in the city and have an actual chance to make something of yourself. And Coach King is offering you another opportunity that will have a direct influence on your future.”
“Sure.” I’ve heard it all. But that doesn’t stop him from going back through it again.
“If you play, it could open up so many doors.”
“Yeah. You already opened the one at Saint Juliet. That’s about all the doors I need.”
“No. It’s not. College. That’s the next door you need. We’ll figure out a way no matter what. But I guarantee you if you take up Coach King on his offer and y’all go to state, you will have offers from schools all over the country. Full-ride offers, Cade. Do you know what kind of future that could set you up for?”
“Yeah. A disappointing one.” Because as much as I wish it weren’t true, I am my father’s son. I will screw up. I will let my brother down. I will do something to fuck up anything good in my life. Just like Dad does.
“With that attitude, I’m sure it will be.” His fatherly tone is in full force once again. Even after three years, it still doesn’t feel natural when he parents me. And maybe it’s not natural to him either because his parental facade slips as he slowly exhales, turns, and moves to put his back against the truck beside me. He remains silent for a few moments, his brotherly tone back in place when he asks, “What are your plans after graduation, Cade?”
