The Encounter, page 1
Copyright © 2022
The Encounter by Cassandra Robbins
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or scanned in any manner without written permission of the author, except in the need of quotes for reviews only.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and establishments are the product of the author’s imagination or are used to provide authenticity and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Edited: Nikki Busch Editing
Cover Design: MSB DESIGN
Formatting and proofing: Elaine York, Allusion Publishing
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
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About the Author
He stepped down, trying not to look at her, as if she were the sun,
yet he saw her,
like the sun, even without looking.
—Leo Tolstoy
Jax
Thirteen years old
Manhattan, New York
“Twins.” The man crosses his long, slender fingers and places them on his desk with a thud. I stare and count in my head how many black hairs I can see on his knuckles.
“Especially identical twins. They’re… unique, rather fascinating really.” Now he drums them on the desk.
I fight the eye roll and focus on what’s important.
Twenty-three.
I can see twenty-three dark hairs on his right hand. He’s placed the left hand under his desk, so I’ll round up to thirty-three considering we aren’t symmetrical.
“I’m sorry, that means nothing to me. What exactly are you saying?” My father’s condescending tone vibrates around the large office, along with my brother’s snort. I glance over at my twin then at my father who, not gonna lie, is intimidating. His expensive charcoal suit makes the sad excuse of a psychiatrist look like a pauper, a peasant, which, of course, he is.
The man’s eyes dart to our faces. With a cough, he straightens in his chair.
“I’m saying, Mr. Saddington, that your sons are gifted.” He smiles, but it’s tight. Strained. Deep inside, he knows we’re better than him. Not only because we’re wealthy, but because we outsmart him.
This time Reed, my twin, doesn’t even hide his contempt and laughs loudly. “Dad, really? You can’t be thinking of paying this—”
My dad holds up a finger, stopping my brother’s outburst, his eyes not leaving the man with slicked-back hair. The psychiatrist’s face pales, if that’s possible—he already reminds me of a cartoon character. You know, the skinny villain with white skin and a pointy nose? Yeah, this guy is a fraud. He hides behind a large wooden desk, specializing in being able to spot if a person is gifted or a genius. Which is why we’re all sitting here.
“So, they’re both geniuses?” His tone is dry, almost bored, but I can tell he wants the validation. Another moron trying to figure out why both me and Reed could read before we could talk.
The man’s beady eyes shift to mine as he brings that other hand back, folding his fingers together as he dramatically rests them on his cherrywood desk. Again, I look away so as not to either join Reed in laughing, because I hear him snickering, or roll my eyes.
Reed was right about this one. The moment we stepped foot in the pretentious waiting room, my dad and brother got into it. I did what I always do and blocked them out, basically turned everything off. Instead, I observed the sterile waiting room. Black leather chairs that you know are expensive, but feel stiff and uncomfortable, lined the walls on either side. Strike one against this psychiatrist. I hate being forced to do anything, especially looking at someone I don’t want to. Large glass vases holding white orchids sit on the two metal art deco tables. The walls are white, with charcoal sketches of various Manhattan landmarks.
Perfect.
Fortunately, we were the only ones in there—well, us and the receptionist answering calls.
Not the place for us. Reed is sick of being tested, and unless Tess is with us to keep him occupied and calm, he can get a little demanding, like now. Smirking, I focus back on this cartoon of a psychiatrist and finally digest the crap he’s saying.
“Come now. You must be aware that one is more aggressive than the other. More competitive, easily fixated on certain things.” The man looks at my dad, his inferiority coming out in his tone.
“What?” my dad snaps.
“Your boys are twins, and this one is aggressive.” He motions to Reed. “He’s already—”
“Excuse me? I brought my sons here to find out if they are geniuses. They already know they’re twins.” There’s an edge of sarcasm in his voice.
I almost start laughing at how stupid this is, but it’s not funny. This doctor doesn’t get to judge Reed.
My father stands and the man behind the desk shrinks back. I can’t help but smirk, and hope that Reed isn’t actually listening to the crap coming out of this cartoon doctor’s mouth.
I almost groan. Here we go. Reed is pissed, and anything goes when Reed gets angry. My eyes go straight back to the doctor, but instead of shutting up, he continues. Like, can’t he see my brother wants to lunge at him?
Reed gets mad, and the only person in this planet who can calm him down is Tess. No Tess? Anything can happen.
“Are you familiar with Steinbeck’s theory on twins? The good and the bad twin—”
“Excuse me? Steinbeck?” Shaking his head, my dad looks at the man then slowly turns to us and nods as he stands.
“Let’s go, boys. This is absurd.”
“Thank you! Finally.” Reed throws his hands up and stands.
“John Steinbeck is a litera—”
My dad cuts him off. “I’m fully aware of John Steinbeck and his work.” He shakes his head in disgust. “This was a mistake. Christ, Reed and Jax read East of Eden at ten.” He takes his phone out and starts texting, I’m sure telling Jay, our driver, to bring the car out of the garage.
“I’m not paying you to give me your opinion on my children. I’m paying you to scientifically validate me in what I already know.”
“That’s what I did,” the man speaks loudly as the room goes silent. My eyes dart to my dad’s as I wait to see what he’s gonna do. His eyes narrow and I shake my head and look over at Reed who smirks back at me. He knows that when my dad gets quiet, all hell is about to break loose. My dad is tall, fit, and no one says no to him. Well, my mom does, but other than that, he’s pretty much a king.
“You were hired to test them, not psychoanalyze them.” His voice is soft yet rather menacing, and the fraud sniffs and reaches for his glass of water, which has a cucumber and lemon in it.
“It goes hand in hand.”
“Jesus Christ.” Reed steps forward as my dad puts a hand on his chest and I step in front of them both.
The doctor looks at me and shakes his head, then sits and starts making notes, I guess.
Reed looks over my dad’s shoulder. “So, what? I’m the bad one, right? That’s what you want to say, so go ahead and say it!”
“Just stop, Reed. He wasn’t going to say that.” My dad pats his chest and glances at me.
I move toward the door and turn around for a moment.
“What I was going to say”—he points at Reed—“is that you’re the one to watch.” Then he looks over at me. “You need to know that he will drag you down. It’s science, really.”
“Let’s go.” My dad pushes Reed toward the door.
“I’ve studied this, seen this in twins all the time. Look at his obsession with that girl you mentioned on the phone,” he says to our backs.
My dad stiffens but keeps walking.
“You know nothing about me and Tess. You know nothing about anything,” Reed yells as I push him out the door, the pretty receptionist looking up in shock. I guess she doesn’t see this happen much.
“I was only trying to give some insight into their intelligence,” the fraud calls out after us.
This is fucked. It’s nothing but a way to feed my dad’s ego, and he doesn’t need any more of that. My dad is actually cool. He’s good, not like the asshole dads my friends have. But for some strange reason, my dad has constantly wanted the label of genius for us. I push the elevator button. Something tells me after today he might finally let it go.
It’s all bullshit anyway. Whether I’m a genius or not, the world smiles on the Saddingtons. Always has.
Reed and I are the heirs to the Saddington empire. Reed is my twin, but he’s also my best friend. Anyone who hurts my brother hurts me. Because unlike what that cartoon fraud said upstairs, or all the other entitled dicks who seem to think they know everything…
They don’t.
I know the truth.
Reed knows the truth.
I’m not the good twin. I’m the bad one. I grin as Steinbeck’s novel infiltrates my head.
Yeah, I’m Caleb and Reed is Aron. Our whole lives, everyone has thought Reed is the bad twin.
Everyone is wrong.
Ava
Thirteen years old
Manhattan, New York
My eyes are closing and I can’t help it. Mr. Roberts is the most boring English teacher in the world. I put both my hands under my chin and try my hardest not to fall asleep. The classroom is so quiet besides Donald and his annoying sniffling. Maybe if I rest my eyes for a second it will help.
“Ava… Ava Gardner Jackson, do you mind expla
“Umm.” I sit up and recross my legs. The knee-high socks do nothing to help with the cold weather, so they keep the heat at like a hundred degrees in the classroom. Wouldn’t want a one percenter to catch a cold.
I take a breath and hear, “Mr. Roberts, a word please.” The hairs on my arms stand up because I know that the reason the principal is standing at the door wearing her stylish pantsuit is because of me.
“Of course.” He waddles toward her.
I look away, already feeling sorry for him—the guy is old. Swinging my backpack off my chair, I unzip it and grab my lip gloss and a couple of library books. My eyes sweep to the right and see Blake smirking at me. He licks his lips. Gross. I turn back and watch Mr. Roberts nod as he turns. I sigh. It was only a matter of time, and quite frankly I’m surprised I’ve been here as long as I have.
“Ava, dear, can you come with me, please?” I smile and nod, ignoring all the giggles from the crappy girls who think they’re better than me. I shrug my backpack on and pull my long ponytail out from under it as I make my way to Principal Keely. Placing one foot in front of the other, I ignore all the looks. None of them are my friends.
“Principal Keely?” I play dumb. It’s easier than explaining why I know she’s here.
Principal Keely smiles at me, it’s kind and almost sympathetic. Same pity look, different school. It’s pretty amazing. My mom is such a train wreck that she can make the most calm and stoic person frazzled.
“Come with me.”
Taking a breath, I turn to Mr. Roberts and give him a small smile. He pushes his glasses up, looking completely confused.
Principal Keely holds the door open and I walk out, my mind already focusing on what I need from my locker. Her heels clicking on the floor echo all the way down the long row of pristine lockers. As schools go, this one was nice. It even had a snack bar. I’ve been to the very best schools, along with some that were so bad I snuck pepper spray inside my sock.
“So.” She sighs as we both stop at my locker; she smiles but her eyes show concern. Principal Keely might be the most put-together woman I have ever seen. Everything about her screams classy. She must come from money. Her dark hair is cut into a bob and she always wears red lipstick, which always seems to go with her clothes.
“It’s okay, I get it. We’re moving, right?” I shift from one foot to the other and gaze down at my black flats, wondering if they’ll have the same dress code at whatever school I end up next. Probably not. If we’re leaving, that means my mom has been dumped and I’ll be needing the pepper spray, not starched, white-collared shirts. Yeah, if my mom is pulling me out, not even waiting for school to end—which is ridiculous because it’s sixth period—it means something bad has happened. My heart starts to race. If something really bad had happened, she would have said something by now, right?
“Yes. I’m sorry but your father called and canceled all paym—”
“He’s not my father.” I stop her. I despise Joe and there’s no way I allow anyone to call him my father. My mom has, without a doubt, the worst taste in men and Joe, her current boyfriend, is a prime example of what to avoid. Doesn’t matter that he’s rich—he’s a pig.
Hate him.
He’s married, thank God, because I don’t know what I would do having him as a stepdad. Creep. I know my mom was hoping he was going to dump his wife and marry her, but he’s like all the others.
“Yes, sorry. Your mother’s boyfriend has canceled your tuition.”
I nod, reaching to open my locker.
“Okay.” I swing open the door and bring out my Prada bag. Balancing my backpack on my knee, I unzip it and transfer whatever I need into my purse, putting all the textbooks back inside my locker. Won’t need those anymore.
“Ava?”
“Yes?”
“If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to call me.” Principal Keely hands me a pink piece of paper.
“Those are my numbers. You’re such a smart girl. I tried to tell your mother that we have programs funded by our wealthy alumni. They sponsor children in need of some financial support.” That makes me freeze as I look up.
“You told my mom that?” Cringing, I can only imagine what my mom said to her. There’s nothing my mom hates more than pity or accepting help. Which is ironic because she has no problem letting any boyfriend pay for everything.
“I did. Caroline Saddington always gives money. I know she will easily pay your tuition if you want to stay.” My face stings with humiliation. I’d rather die than be beholden to anyone, especially the rich.
With a sigh, I zip up my backpack and swing my purse over my shoulder, trying not to burst into embarrassing tears.
“Please tell her, Ava. I tried, but your mom seemed… distraught and a little distracted.”
I need to get out of here. Principal Keely’s kindness is worse than when they don’t care. And it’s not like I can tell her the truth, so I say, “I will. But my mom probably got that job she was expecting, so we will be moving to Los Angeles.” I’m on autopilot now. All I want to do is get out of here. I’ve been saying that exact line since I was six.
Literally.
Except when I was six, I actually believed we were moving to Los Angeles. Now I just say it to make whoever is talking be quiet. Because we’re not moving to Los Angeles. She says that to make herself feel good. She’ll replace Joe with a Tim, a Robert, a fill-in-the-blank, as long as they are rich.
My mom has never worked. Well, not in the traditional sense. She does spend hours every day keeping up on the latest trends, what’s in and what’s not.
Following the latest millionaire who’s just left his wife. Or the billionaire who needs someone to keep him company while he cheats on his family. Sadly, this takes an enormous amount of time, clothing, and plotting. You’d be surprised how expensive it is to keep yourself young.
I’m not complaining though. She’s my mom and I love her. I’m her best friend and she’s my only friend. I’ve traveled all over the world and I’m not even fourteen yet. Paris, Germany, Canada, Italy.
We lived in Hong Kong for three months when some rich tycoon was in need of a look-alike for his wife. Not joking, his wife hated him and all the socializing. I guess she had enough and decided to stop attending events. Like, she didn’t leave her mansion. Enter my mother. As crazy as it was, she pulled off pretending to be this other woman. We both got a lot of amazing clothes. The jewels he gave my mom really helped us through a rough patch last winter before she met Joe.
I’m sort of an expert at hocking stuff. One time, we were so desperate I ended up pawning my mom’s Chanel sunglasses and Tag Heuer watch while she waited outside.
“You have so much potential, Ava. I hope you know that.” Principal Keely brings my attention back to her. “You’re a beautiful, smart girl. If you don’t move, please let her know. I’m positive the Saddingtons will sponsor you.”
I’d rather eat trash out of a dumpster before I let any Saddington sponsor me, but I won’t say that. Nodding again, I shut my locker and try to breathe so my cheeks stop flushing, then turn to her.
“I will, and thank you.”
She stares at me. She knows I’m lying.
“I’m ready.” She keeps staring, so I head toward the doors. I mean, I appreciate her concern, but she doesn’t get it. She can’t. People like her will never understand the way we live. But whatever, my mom and I will make it; we always make do. In a way, besides losing Joe’s money, it will be great having Mom back—at least until she gets distracted by going into husband-stealing mode.
I open up the thick glass doors and turn when I hear her heels clicking behind me.
“Good luck, Ava.” Her eyes are full of worry.
