CADENCE
Dutch Freaking Cross is a maniac. I seriously doubt his head works like a normal human being because no one could be this psychotic in real life.
My cell phone chimes at four a.m. in the morning with an instruction from my evil overlord.
Get us lattes before first bell. Double whip. No foam.
Not only is that an inhumane latte order, but it’s also a never-going-to- happen order.
It’s becoming abundantly clear to me that Dutch really thinks he’s a god. Last Saturday, I made sure to remind him that he wasn’t… by standing him up for our ‘date’.
What did his face look like when he realized I wasn’t coming?
I roll over in my bed, dreaming of Dutch’s misery, only to wake to another chirp from my phone.
It’s a new order from Dutch.
We’d like peach muffins too. The best you can find.
I shudder. He didn’t find out about my peach allergy, did he? If Jinx knows that much, I’m going to have to ask Breeze if she’s the secret agent who knows all of Redwood’s dirty laundry.
At six, I get another message but this time I’m fully awake thanks to Dutch’s cruel harassment. It’s hard for me to go to sleep when I’m piping mad, which is exactly what this Redwood Prep jerk makes me.
I groggily tap my screen. Dutch’s third instruction makes my entire body tighten with fear.
Find this girl.
Beneath the text is a picture of me at the showcase. My red hair looks like it’s on fire beneath the stage lights. My head is bowed over the keys and my expression is pure confidence.
One of my first assignments as Dutch Cross’s servant is to find myself. And not in the figurative, go on a trip to Italy and kiss a cute foreigner to fall in love way.
My knee starts thumping and I run a hand through my hair, letting my fingers tangle in the braid I sleep with every night. How the hell am I going to get out of this one?
A nervous wreck, I toss the phone away and stumble to the kitchen. I need to find a way out of this restlessness.
By the time Viola rouses from her beauty sleep and totters down the hallway like Frankenstein’s daughter, I’ve got toast, spam and fried eggs laid out on the counter.
Her mouth freezes mid-yawn and she stares at me. Her dark hair’s a bird’s nest piled on top of her head and there’s still a pillow crease under her left eye cheek.
She looks messy and adorable when she lights up. “Is it my birthday?” “No,” I snort.
“It has to be my birthday. Why else would you make all this stuff for breakfast?” She giddily skips to the small kitchenette table and plunks her pajama-clad legs into a seat. “Whoa. When did you have time to make all this?”
“I got up early,” I say simply.
My baby sister doesn’t need to know that I was chased out of my sleep by King Butt-hole who’s only purpose in life is to squeeze me out of Redwood Prep like an unwanted pimple.
I take the seat across from Viola and share out some eggs.
“I noticed that you’ve been practicing makeup extra hard lately.” Spreading ketchup in a smiley face over her eggs—the way I’ve been doing all her life, I gently place the plate in front of her.
“Because the freshman homecoming dance is coming up. I plan to do makeup for some of my friends.”
“That’s so sweet of you, Vi,” I say, munching into my slab of fried meat.
“Oh, it’s not sweet. I’m charging them by the hour.” I almost choke on my food. “What?”
“The month’s almost up and our electricity is due soon. I don’t want what happened last time to happen again.” Her scowl is dark. “We already know Rick isn’t lifting a finger to help us. So much for having an older brother.”
“Rick is the reason we can live together even though we’re both minors.” I set my fork down, alarmed by her bitterness. “Vi, it’s not Rick’s responsibility to take care of us. It’s mine.”
“But I can help too.”
“You don’t have to.” I hate the worry crossing her face. She’s only thirteen years old. Way too young to be anxious about whether our light will be cut out in a week. “I’ve been getting more calls to play at the lounge lately. And tips have been especially generous. I can afford the electricity this month. That’s not something you need to keep in your pretty head.”
She purses her lips. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Do makeup if you like and enjoy it. Not because you feel pressured to put food on the table.” I take her hand and squeeze. “Like always, I’ve got you.”
Her smile is sweet and it makes my heart twist to see the sunshine steal back into her eyes. Vi might have her flighty ways and her rebellious streaks, but she’s a good little sister. Way more mature and business-minded than I was at her age for sure.
“Okay.” She wraps her fingers around the cup of orange juice. “But I’m still going to charge for the makeup. It can go toward my dress.”
My throat tightens when I realize that she’ll probably want a new dress to wear. I scramble to think of where I can get the money, but I come up short. There’s just no room in the budget for things like that.
Viola shakes her head. “Breeze already offered to lend me one of her outfits. You know she has, like, a bajillion dresses.”
Guilt threatens to hold me in a headlock, but I force a smile. “I’m sorry I can’t get you a new one, but you can borrow one of mine.”
“Ew.”
My eyelashes flutter. “Ew?”
“No offense, sis, but you don’t necessarily have the best fashion sense.” “Hey!”
“It’s a good thing Redwood Prep uses uniforms.” Viola lifts a hand. “That’s all I’m saying.”
I reach over the table and pinch her cheek. “Smart mouth.” She giggles.
I sit back down.
“Oh, by the way, one of my friends is bringing a date—”
My fingers tighten on the fork. “You do not need a date to freshman homecoming.”
“I wasn’t going to say that, you overprotective nun.” Viola rolls her eyes, “I meant…” She takes out her phone and swipes to a screenshot. “This is him.”
She shows me a picture of a guy with clear brown eyes and low-cut hair throwing up a street sign. He looks a little too young and scrawny to be a part of a gang, but he’s definitely showing off where he comes from.
“Is there a reason you’re showing me a pubescent teen trying to look hard online?” I ask, arching a brow.
“Doesn’t he seem familiar?”
I purse my lips and look closer. “Not really.” “Cadence!”
“What?” I jump when she yells.
Eyes flashing, Viola swipes her thumb over the screen and shows me another screenshot. This one is of the wanna-be gangster and Hunter.
I gasp when I see Hunter’s gorgeous face staring up at me. He’s got his arm slung around the kid. The caption reads, ‘brothers for life’.
“They’re in a gang together?” I gasp.
“I could smack you…” Viola grumbles heatedly. “They’re brothers, Cadey. Brothers. I found out from my friend who’s going with Hunter’s brother. Hunter is going to be at the school as a chaperone.”
I sigh. “Why is that information I need to know?”
“Hello! You can sign up to be a chaperone too. Then you can go to homecoming, slow dance with Hunter and fall in love.” She smacks her hands together. “It’s perfect.”
“It’s a fantasy that you’ve built up in your own head. Have you been reading romance novels lately?”
My sister flails her arms like a child throwing a tantrum. “You’re no fun.”
“And you’re going to be late for school if you don’t hurry and finish eating now.” I gesture to the food.
Hunter might be hot, but I’m not into him like that. I barely know the guy, so there’s a chance we can strike a match. Maybe. Not that I’m looking for anything.
A memory of Dutch’s kiss flashes through my mind and my body tingles in all the wrong places.
I’m not apathetic towards Hunter because of Dutch. He has nothing to do with it
In fact, Dutch is the reason I’m against men in general.
He sends my blood pressure rising just by stepping into the room. And every time he makes my life a living hell, I want to smack him. But the moment I see him shirtless, I want to throw my arms around him.
He’s dangerous and evil, sure.
But I obviously have a few screws loose if I can’t see past his gorgeous face to his ugly insides. My hormones are clearly not a great judge of character.
Sighing, I take the bathroom first and change into my Redwood Prep uniform.
Viola’s in her room doing her makeup magic so I just give her a slight wave, which she returns, and make my way to Redwood.
It’s always a good day when people don’t look at me, look at their phones and snicker. I only release a breath when I see that the gawking and stares are about the usual.
Today’s already heading in the right direction.
I stop at my locker and find that everything is dry. Another good sign.
Maybe I can start to breathe now.
“Hey, stranger,” Serena says, popping up by my locker.
I grin over at her. I’m in a good mood and her presence just proves that today is going to be my day. Screw Dutch and his overbearing self.
I’m not anyone’s slave.
“Hey.” I give her a once-over. “Wow. You look nice.”
She’s wearing particularly thick eyeliner and it brings out the sparkle in her eyes. Her usual motorcycle jacket is worn over the male version of the Redwood Prep uniform—sweater vest and straight khakis.
“Thanks. I was tired of wearing a skirt so I thought I’d switch it up today.” She groans against the locker. “This stupid school won’t let us be great and wear jeans.”
I chuckle. “Evil overlords. All of them.”
Her answering smile makes my heart feel at ease. Although I didn’t set out to have friends at Redwood Prep, having Serena as a friendly face really makes a difference.
“I heard about the commotion in your music class.” She folds her arms over her chest. “Word on the street is that Dutch saved you.”
“He what?” My eyes widen.
“After what happened the last time, with you freezing up at the keyboard and running away, crying and screaming—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. There was no crying and screaming,” I defend.
Unbelievable. No wonder gossip’s so powerful and deadly. The story completely shifted after being passed around to the whole school.
“Anyway, he protected you so the music sub didn’t force you to play.” Serena tosses her head and the cute raven-haired bob swishes around her cheeks.
“That is so far from what happened it’s diabolical.” I frown at her, clutching my books to my chest.
“Either way, I didn’t take you for the Dutch type.” She gives me a once- over. “You seemed more like a Finn-head to me.”
“A Finn-head?”
“Yeah. A fan of Finn? He’s the quietest brother, but man… those eyes and when he plays his bass…” She stares dreamily into space. And then she shifts her attention back to me. “Not that I notice.”
“Totally buy that.” I laugh.
She grins and elbows me in the side.
Just then, I spot the Cross brothers sauntering down the hallway.
Oh damn. I turn on instinct, trying to blend behind the students crowding around us.
“What’s going on?” Serena asks, looking confused. “Nothing,” I whisper urgently. “I’ll see you later.”
I hobble around, keeping my back bent and try to scurry in the opposite direction. Too scared to look back, I don’t realize that Dutch caught sight of me until I feel a jolt.
My shirt squashes my boobs and I almost stumble. When I peer over my shoulder, I see Dutch, Finn and Zane staring intently at me.
Dutch has his pointer finger in the collar of my blouse and is physically holding me back.
I’m going to kill him today. I have to.
Whirling around, I smack at his hand. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Where’s my latte, Brahms?” His voice is smooth and unhurried. There’s a hint of a smirk on his lips that tells me he enjoys the fury rising on my face.
“I’m going to smash your face in,” I threaten.
My words seem to bounce off his back like a pebble on a mountain.
Dutch doesn’t care that I was having a good day. He’s here to ruin it.
Screw him.
And screw his gorgeous brothers too.
“What about our peach muffins?” He arches a brow. “I’m allergic, you bastard,” I hiss. “Like deadly.”
He tuts. “You could have used gloves.” I glare at him and then turn around.
“Where are you going, Brahms?” Dutch growls. “Away from you, obviously.”
“We need our coffee delivered to the practice room.”
I give him a one-fingered salute. My backpack bounces as I stride away from him.
“Okay then.” He grunts and, a moment later, I’m airborne. A moment after that, I’m practically kissing Dutch’s firm and s*xy buttcheck while my legs are spiraling down his chest.
“Dutch, you put me down this instant!” I screech. I can feel the blood draining to my face, but that’s not the reason I’m getting red. No, it’s from white-hot fury. “Dutch!”
He smacks my behind and I yelp.
There’s smugness in his tone when he says, “Simmer down, Brahms. If you keep thrashing like that, everyone’s going to get a view of your plump little backside.”
I dig my teeth into my bottom lip, sure that today’s the day it’s all going to end.
Today’s the day I murder Dutch Cross.
