The law of deceit, p.4
The Law of Deceit, page 4
Sorry, Oliver, but you’re going to have to really be something special or this will be another dud date.
Jamie puts Gemma to work on chopping veggies for a salad. I excuse myself to go check on Kaden. When I make my way to the game room, I find Kaden listening, a Coke in hand, to everything Dempsey says. It’s cute how taken he is with Dempsey.
Dempsey grabs a cue stick from the wall and then hands it to Kaden, exchanging it for Kaden’s Coke. “Hold it like I showed you.”
I sneak into the game room and watch them interact. Dempsey is patient with Kaden, showing him little tips and tricks. Compared to Kaden, Dempsey isn’t a boy any longer. I’m realizing he’s tall, lean with muscle, and carries himself like a man.
No wonder Jamie was worried.
Dempsey grew up overnight and he’s turning into one of the Park men who turn all the heads in this town. This family ate up all the good genes, that’s for sure.
He must feel me staring because he glances my way. The small smile he shares with me feels private and just for me.
Why?
Why does it feel that way?
I try to think about this Oliver guy and what he looks like. Jamie wouldn’t lie to me and set me up with a toad or some weirdo. I’ve always trusted her, especially with something like this.
But thinking of someone I don’t know doesn’t work. I’m fixated again on the way Dempsey’s black T-shirt stretches across his back and shoulders, revealing sculpted muscles underneath. Probably tattooed muscles. Just when the hell did he get muscles?
Stop.
Dempsey’s electric blue eyes land on me once more, but all playfulness is gone. He searches my gaze like one might size up their prey. As if he’s just now realizing he’s not a cub but a grown-ass lion and I’m the gazelle just standing there waiting to get eaten.
His lips curl into a devilish grin that makes me break into a sweat.
What the hell, Sloane?
This weird thing between us ends now.
Bad decisions are for my parents and my sisters. Allowing myself to think of Dempsey as a man rather than the troublemaker kid I’ve known all his life is dangerous. It’s reckless and something my family would do.
I am not like them.
I. Am. Not. Like. Them.
Dempsey
“Are you ready, honey?” Mom asks from the doorway of my bedroom. “You know your father doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Ever since last night, I’ve been trying to sketch the expression on Sloane’s face. It was something different—unlike anything I’ve ever seen on her pretty face.
Surprise? Anger? Embarrassment?
“Do I have to go?” I grumble, snapping my iPad shut. “He already knows how I feel about this.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. When it comes to Dad, she always, always chooses his side. It’s so fucking annoying.
“You’re going. Put on something presentable and preferably without holes in it.”
Drawing Sloane will have to wait. Apparently, I’ve been summoned to go with my parents and sister for a private tour of Park Mountain University. It’s like they still don’t get the fact I’m not going. No matter how much they try, it’s not happening.
As soon as Mom leaves me alone, I slide off the bed, grumbling about having to do this stupid shit. My holey Metallica shirt looks cool and was pretty expensive. But heaven forbid Dad’s bougie friends at the college see what a delinquent his son is.
I snatch my standard black Polo for events such as these and yank it on over my T-shirt. The combat boots will have to do because I’m not wearing any lame-ass shoes. That’s where I draw the line.
Stalking out of my room, I nearly plow over my sister. She, of course, looks like your typical college student, already wearing a PMU T-shirt and an eager-as-fuck smile.
Gemma sees college as an escape.
To me, it’s a prison.
“You know,” Gemma says, looping her arm through mine and grinning at me, “they have art classes there. Why don’t you just take those?”
Everything I’ve learned is through observation and real-time research via the internet. Some antiquated professor isn’t going to be able to teach me about any art I’ll be interested in. Screw that. Sounds boring as hell.
When we make it downstairs, Mom smiles at seeing us. Sometimes I feel like I’m five and we’re being paraded around town as the adorable Park twins. I don’t feel adorable, goddammit.
“Your dad’s already outside,” Mom says, practically bouncing on her heels. “We have something exciting for you both. Come on.”
Gemma shoots me a wide-eyed, gaping-mouthed look. Did they really get us cars? Finally? I find my mood lifting. Maybe this tour won’t be so bad if we have the freedom to leave whenever we want.
My sister practically drags me out of the house behind Mom. It reminds me of Christmas morning when we were kids, so damn eager to see what Santa had brought us.
As soon as we’re outside, I see a brand-freaking-new Chevy Tahoe with a custom glittery black-colored paint job. All the doors and hatch are open, inviting us to come take a look.
It’s nice as hell, but where’s the other one?
I detach from my twin and stride to the back of the vehicle to see if Dad’s hiding an Audi or something for my sister. Nothing.
Oh fuck.
He’s not going to let her drive.
Her squeals of excitement make my ears ring. I’ll let Dad rain on her parade. I’m sure as hell not telling her she’s going to be stuck hitching rides from our parents forever.
Dad climbs out of the driver’s seat to hug Gemma. She’s talking a hundred miles per second, telling him how beautiful the car is and how excited she is. Mom simply grins so wide she’s showing off every one of her shiny veneered teeth.
“Well,” Dad says, turning his attention to me. “What do you think, Son? You like it?”
I scratch at my temple, feeling awkward as hell. He’s being so blatant about it. Is he going to break my sister’s heart right here in the driveway?
“It’s nice,” I murmur, breaking his gaze to run my eyes along the sleek SUV. “Really nice.”
Gemma pulls from Dad’s hug to dazzle me with a bright smile. “I’m so in love with it, Dad. Thank you!”
Dad nods, not correcting her. Wait. Is this car hers? Am I the one who’s not getting one? Shock, outrage, and mostly hurt burn hot through my veins. I can feel my face turning red and I hate it.
Am I some joke to him?
The loser, worthless kid?
“As you kids can see,” Dad says, voice gruff and firm. “There’s one car here.”
Here it comes.
Favoritism at its finest.
“There are some rules that go along with this vehicle,” he continues. “You’re not allowed to drive it alone.”
Gemma frowns while I clench my teeth, staring vacantly at my sister’s car.
“What do you mean?” Gemma asks. “Like with you or Mom? We’re eighteen and can drive alone.”
Dad grunts. “I know the law, but these are your mother’s and my rules. If you drive anywhere, you must take Dempsey with you.”
I scoff but secretly revel in her shocked expression that quickly morphs into anger.
“Because I’m a girl? Dad, that’s so unfair!” Her big eyes fill with tears as she looks at our mother for aid. Fat chance, Sis. Mom’s always on Dad’s side.
Technically, with all her paid sponsorships on social media, she probably has enough to buy her own vehicle, not that Dad would let her.
“It’s not because you’re a girl,” Dad explains, huffing in frustration. “Same with Dempsey. It’s your shared car, but I want him to take you if he drives it anywhere.”
Wait.
Shared?
Seriously?
We’ve literally shared every-fucking-thing since being in the womb and now we’re sharing a car, too. Annoying but not all that surprising.
“Am I being punished because I don’t want to go to college?” I grit out, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at Dad. “Because, if so, that’s a mindfuck, Dad.”
Dad stiffens and his nostrils flare. “I knew I had spoiled children, but I didn’t realize they were both going to be such brats. I bought you a ninety-five-thousand-dollar car and it’s not good enough? Unbelievable.”
I guess he has a point.
We’re not being very grateful. But it’s his fault. He made us this way. It’s not like he doesn’t have the money to get each of us a car. He could have bought two cheaper cars for the price of this one.
“Whatever,” I mutter. “Fine. Thanks, Mom, Dad. Car is cool. We’ll drive together. All is good.”
Gemma’s shoulders hunch and she nods. “We do love it. Thank you. I just didn’t expect to have to ride everywhere with Dempsey.” She glances my way. “What about if he doesn’t go to college? How will I get there?”
Dad glowers my way. “He’s going. Now, if we’re done with all this, I’d like to head over to PMU for our appointment.”
He climbs back into the driver’s seat and slams the door shut. Mom pats Gemma’s back and then joins our father up front. Despite this being our car now, me and Gemma climb into the back like usual. I can tell my sister is trying hard not to cry. I’m pretty over this whole day myself.
While we drive and Dad prattles on about the features of the vehicle, I stare out the window as my mind drifts back to last night. Teaching Kaden to play pool was pretty fun. After the weird moment with Sloane, she bolted and left me with her nephew. I learned a lot of shit from that kid. His mom’s boyfriend is a meth head and drives him crazy. There’s never any food and sometimes the boyfriend knocks Kaden around. No wonder Sloane has him. She’s not exactly one to sit around while there’s injustice going on.
My fingers twitch to sketch her face again. I feel like I’m almost to where I can recreate the look she gave me. It was warm. No, it was hot.
Hot?
Or is that wishful thinking on my part?
Maybe it was just happiness that someone was entertaining the kid for her. Whatever the look was, I’m curious to see it again.
I open up our messages and stare at our conversation. This morning, I asked her if they had fun last night and she never responded. Sloane stays busy at the police station, but it still hurts not to get a response.
This day fucking sucks.
Needing someone to talk to, I shoot a text to Tate.
Me: Dad got us a car.
He responds immediately as though he was waiting for this moment.
Tate: WHAT?! NO WAY! CONGRATS!
Me: To share. With Gemma. Yay.
Tate: Ohhh. Well, I mean, it’s not uncommon for families to have their children share a car. It’s not a personal attack, Demps.
Me: She can’t drive without me and I can’t drive without her.
The dots move and stop several times before he finally responds.
Tate: Yikes. Okay. We’re definitely going to need to unpack that one. You free for coffee?
Me: Nope. On the way to PMU to check out my new prison. Fun!
Tate: Come over after. We’ll sneak away and chat. Hang in there. Your dad loves you.
I give him a thumbs-up and then shove my phone into my pocket. Gemma, over her disappointment of having to share a car with me, happily talks about how beautiful it is and how excited she is for this campus tour.
My mind is back to last night as I follow my family aimlessly out of the car and toward the admin building where Dad is meeting his friend, who’s the dean. I’ll get through this stupid thing even if I have to pretend to be a robot.
The administration building smells like cheese and I curl my lip up. I already hate this place. Dad asks us to wait in the hallway while he fetches his buddy. Mom and Gemma walk over to the enclosed glass case filled with college memorabilia and trophies. Needing to escape them, I make my way over to a bulletin board that’s littered with fliers.
Several are for people seeking roommates to share rent with. A few are offers for various odd jobs like dog walking or house sitting. Some are job ads for on-campus positions like admin assistant or cafeteria cashier. A cream-colored one with shimmery gold writing catches my eye.
PMU Art Expo - Looking for Artists
I quickly read through the flier. Essentially, the college is having an art expo to display different pieces in varying mediums. They even have a category for digital realism. The event will happen in a few weeks and influential artsy people all over the Pacific Northwest will be invited to attend. You can even opt to have your art available for purchase. It then provides an email and contact number.
The only requirement. You must be enrolled as a PMU student.
As much as I don’t want to go to college, this art expo sounds interesting to me. Maybe I could supply a really awesome piece and get noticed. Would Dad take my passion seriously then?
He might…
“Ready?” Dad calls out.
I glance over to see him, an older man, my mom, and Gemma all staring at me. “Yup.”
They turn to walk down the hallway. I start to follow, but my feet don’t want to budge. Without second-guessing myself, I rip the flier off the bulletin board and cram it into my pocket.
I probably won’t do it.
It’s not like I’m a professional or anything.
But what if?
What if I made it all the way to Seattle and earned money from my art? Dad would have to see me as someone with hopes and dreams and talent. Not some loser, lazy ass. Plus, if I made money, I could buy my own damn car with zero rules attached. If Gemma can make money “influencing,” then I can do it with my art.
That’s pretty enticing.
Ahh, fuck it. I’m doing it. There’s no harm in trying.
Sloane
The Ghirard case is closed.
Accidental explosion. No foul play.
I stare at my computer, confused as to how the case is done already. It’s literally the biggest thing to hit our police department in the fifteen years I’ve been here. There was evidence of an arsonist and several disgruntled employees went on the record about how much they hated the Ghirards. Yet, after a few weeks of investigation, it’s suddenly ruled out as an accident.
How?
I certainly don’t buy it.
Our detectives are clearly sleeping on the job around here.
“Did you see this?” I ask Aisha, who’s swiveling in her chair, waiting for me to get my ass moving this morning.
“If it involves work, probably not.” She laughs at her own joke, but it fizzles when she realizes I’m not in the mood. “Oh geez. What is it?”
“The Ghirard case,” I grumble, looking over the monitor to meet her stare. “It’s closed. Accident. No foul play.”
She smiles. “Ummm, that’s good, dork.”
But it’s not good. This case wasn’t something that should have been open and shut so quickly. It’s the same with most every case since Tanaka took office. What if he’s making all this happen to look good in his new position? That’s plausible.
I glance over at Tanaka, who’s on the phone in his office. His features are sharp and serious as he listens to whomever is speaking. Is it the mayor? Someone far more sinister like Harvey Ghirard?
“Come on,” Aisha says, leaning forward. “There were six people killed in the Ghirard explosion. It probably gives the families peace of mind knowing it wasn’t their boss responsible. Let it rest.”
Prickles of unease stab along every surface of my skin. I can’t let it rest. Something’s not right and I can feel it. I might let it rest if it were the only thing to have happened, but recently, there’re just too many “odd” things to count. I’m suspicious, that’s for damn sure.
Or maybe you’re looking for a distraction…
Thoughts of Dempsey infiltrate my mind and my gut sours. Ever since last week when me and Kaden went over there, I’ve been having these intrusive thoughts about him. It makes no sense because he’s just Dempsey. Jamie’s baby boy.
Maybe I should be the one investigated around here.
Ugh.
I need to get out of here. Stat.
“Whatever, I’m not going to worry about it any longer,” I lie as I stand. “Let me go tell Kaden bye and we can hit the road.”
Aisha playfully cheers. She hates desk work and suffers when I take my time doing it. While she gathers her stuff, I locate Kaden at Tara’s desk. She’s put him to work with a label maker and made him label files over the messy handwriting of certain officers. It’s a good job for him and will keep him busy for hours until I grab him for lunch.
“Where do you want to go eat when I get back?” I lean against Tara’s desk and peer down at him. “I can’t handle fast food again. My stomach hates me.”
He sniggers. “Your farts are worse than mine.”
“Doubtful,” I say with a smirk. “Yours make my eyes water.”
His gaze falls back to his file and his shoulders go stiff. “What about Nadine’s?”
I freeze at the mention of that place. Mom still works shifts there and we’re not exactly on good terms. But maybe he’s missing his family. Just because I’m estranged doesn’t mean he wants to be. It’d be selfish to deny him this no matter how much I will hate my life.
“Lucy’s working there this summer,” Kaden says. “I miss her.”
Like I can say no to that. Ugh. Kids. They’re great at knowing exactly which buttons to push to get what they want—or in this case, need.
“Yeah, bud. We can go there. But when my farts out-stink yours, I don’t want to hear any complaining.”
Tara winks at me, letting me know she’s proud of how I handled it. It’s definitely relieving since I feel like I’m flying blind with this. Tara has a couple of teenagers, so she knows better than anyone.
