HABIT, page 22
It's been two days now since I’ve seen her. She spent yesterday with Cameron and Brooklyn, and I haven’t asked her for details. Brooklyn is important to her, and they needed some time together. I’m not sure why Cameron got to be there but I didn’t, but I’ll question that later. For now, I’m glad to know she feels she’s earned back a friendship. She texted me about it some, and I know she’ll open up more.
I get to be her person, and I like that. She’s mine. I would tell her anything now. Trust her with anything.
We have a big game this week. The one from this weekend was a tougher win than it needed to be. Two weeks in a row of having a player kicked out is not the record we want to set, First Theo then Cameron. I wonder if I’m next on the list, only if I get booted, Toby gets to run things on his own. I’d fight the refs bloody to keep that from happening. Probably would not be very effective given they’re the governing body that can eject me, but still . . . rationality would go out the window if it looked like Toby was going to take over QB1 alone.
He got zero time Saturday, and I know it’s because the game was close. I also know how that looks for me and my dad to the people pushing from the other side. I’ve already heard the whispers about a few meetings with the league chair. Private schools aren’t like public; the governing boards for athletics are made up of people just like the ones who don’t really want me starting in Toby’s place. If this becomes a case that has to be settled in front of them, my chances are slim. My only hope is enough people realize how close that game was Saturday and they consider the fact the only score was a passing play from me to Theo. Toby’s running game would have been clobbered by those guys.
“You’re throwing the ball pretty good today for a total princess,” Theo teases me as he shoves the ball back in my chest before lining up to go out for another deep pass. I chuckle and remind him that he’s a princess too. We decided we are definitely not kings because Lily and Morgan completely own us.
I toss the ball to Jake, whom I’ve noticed is not speaking to Toby at all lately. He’s an important convert for Team James. I can’t do this well without a good center.
He snaps the ball and I drop back, then sprint to the sideline before zipping the ball into the end zone where Theo hangs on for a touchdown. Or what will be a touchdown on Saturday.
The whistle blares, and we all jog in.
“All right, get some recovery time in today guys. I’ve gotta cut short. Coaching staff has a meeting,” my dad says, his eyes meeting mine with a warning-type look.
My stomach tightens and I force myself not to look in Toby’s direction. I don’t want to confirm any suspicions. I’m too happy not knowing, and I’d rather not ruin it. Besides, Morgan has been pacing at the top of the hill for the last thirty minutes and I’m dying to race up there and carry her off to a dark corner somewhere. She’s dressed in this cute short dress with her knee-high leather boots on, her hair pulled up into a tight ponytail that I kind of want to wrap around my hand and hold while I torture her body a little.
I put that thought to the side long enough to count down for our break for practice, then I help the field crew clean up and load the cart with our water and discarded cups. I notice Toby jogs right to the locker room, and I can’t help but think what a lousy leader he is.
Lingering behind the rest of the guys, I peel off when I reach the top of the hill. I’m tempted to race toward Morgan, but I don’t want anyone calling me out for not sticking with the team, even though I did help everyone with the work. Instead, I saunter toward her as she does the same in my direction. I don’t see the strain in her expression until we’re about ten feet apart.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I say in a hushed tone, reaching a hand toward her.
Her lip puffs out and her forehead crinkles with stress and sadness. I run my thumb across the tiny divots then cup the back of her head and bring it toward me to kiss her forehead.
“Is it your dad? Did you see him?” She’s been working herself up to make a visit. Last she told me, he was talking and doing well, looking to move to rehab at the end of this week.
She shakes her head.
“I have to tell you something, and this is hard, and I’m maybe afraid of what will happen. So, I need you to just let me get this out, okay?” She’s clutching her phone to her chest, which I can’t deny doesn’t set me on edge. I nod slowly anyhow.
“I promise,” I say. I’ll keep that promise, but I might get sick while I’m waiting.
Morgan hands me her phone. I turn it for landscape view as I take in the photo on the screen. It must be the image Toby threatened me he had—a clear view of my dad’s truck and Morgan in the passenger seat. I told her about his threat after we made up, and she blew it off, assuming Toby was probably talking out of his ass. So what if he wasn’t. He can’t threaten me or my dad. I shake my head and hand her the phone.
“It’s fine. My dad won’t let him get away with trying to say there was something between you two—”
“James, it’s video,” Morgan says, shoving the phone back in my face.
I hit play, noticing the movement inside the truck. I zoom in, easily recognizing the two of us. I drag my finger on the timeline to watch it again. We kiss in the truck and again when we get out. It’s disturbing, especially when we thought we were alone, but still . . . who cares? I’ll kiss her in the middle of a school assembly. I don’t care what people want to make up and say.
“It’s creepy for sure, but if he wants tapes of you and me kissing, I say we make him a whole damn library,” I say.
Morgan takes her phone back and levels me with a hard stare.
“It’s time stamped. And they’ll pull the real tape. James, we were off campus way after hours. I’m sure you can see the truck leave and come back. And while that might not sound like a big deal, it is since the car crash. The closed campus after midnight is a hard rule. I’m not sure me or Theo could get out of being caught without some serious consequences. But you . . . you’ll be—”
“Expelled,” I finish.
Fuck.
I take her phone and play the video again.
“I thought you said we would be okay because of the faculty sticker,” I plead, gnashing my teeth because I know how shitty it sounds, like I’m blaming her.
“I didn’t know they had video surveillance. Not there, or like that. I always heard they captured plates and windshield stickers and that was all.” Her voice quavers. I reach my arm around her and pull her into a hug.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say, stopping short of promising because I don’t really believe that. My dad and the coaching staff are meeting, and I’m pretty sure this is the reason Toby didn’t stick around long. I don’t know how far along in the process this is, but I have a feeling time is short, and if I have any argument to make on my behalf, I should probably get started on it.
“I’m going to fix this,” Morgan says.
I laugh a little and hand her back her phone.
“You have a time machine?”
I’m joking but she doesn’t smile. I shake my head, pull her head to my chest, and kiss the top of it again.
“I have faith. Good will win over evil.” And I think maybe Toby really is evil. He wants things he doesn’t deserve—things he hasn’t earned. I’m not naïve enough to believe life doesn’t work that way for the rich, but it doesn’t make it right. It doesn’t make it ethical.
And yeah, it makes Toby evil. I’ll stand by that.
Chapter 21
Morgan
I have the power to fix things for James. It means I’m going to have to play by Bentley-style rules, though, and I’m struggling with that.
The only reason I found out about the video is one of Toby’s friends leaked it. A lot of his inner circle is jumping ship, looking ahead to college life when they won’t be this insecure little group of rich kids pushing other people around. Toby may very well become an adult who does that, but some people want better for themselves.
I do know one man who doesn’t, though. He was a Toby when he was in high school. Hell, he probably came out of the womb with manipulation stitched into his DNA.
“I’m here to see Christopher Bentley. I’m his daughter,” I say to the floor nurse at the main desk for his wing of the hospital.
I talked to Cameron, of all people, the other night about my struggle in coming here. I know more about Cam than he thinks I do, like the fact his grandparents are the headmaster and his wife. My family’s reach carries to many social circles. There’s not much about the heartbeats in Boston that the Bentleys don’t know. I’ve kept his secret, though. Even he doesn’t know I know his roots. I figure maybe one day he’ll tell me. And after listening to me and helping me sort out what to do about Toby’s threat, after I shared my idea with him, I wouldn’t be against getting to know the real Cameron better. He gave me the courage to come here.
“You can go on back. Room seven,” she says after putting down the phone.
I hope he’s alone. I’m not quite ready to handle both of my parents. I slowly round the corner to his room. It’s a large single—of course—with flowers on every flat surface. So many fake friends. I rap my knuckles on the door and he sets down the drink he’s holding after pulling the straw from his lips.
“Oh, thank Christ. Morgan, please get me some real goddamn food. I’m getting sicker eating this shit,” he says, pushing the rolling table away from the side of his bed.
I breathe out a small laugh and shake my head. This is exactly as I expected.
“Maybe it’s good to be humbled,” I say, moving to his side. I don’t reach for his hand or lean forward to kiss him. That’s not how this family works.
“Horseshit,” he says.
That. That’s how this family works.
I nod.
“Okay. Hey, listen. I actually came here for your advice, which I know you love to give out even when nobody requests it.”
My father shoots me a sideways glare, and for a moment I feel connected to him. We have the same sense of humor, for the most part.
I drag the chair from the corner to the side of his bed and plop down, bringing my phone up to give him the visual aid. He might not understand how tech works, but he gets the power of it. He definitely understands the potential to earn.
“You know the Sullivans? Toby?” I ask.
He grunts, his mouth contorting into a sick expression.
“Yeah, that guy. Well, he’s threatening me and a friend of mine, misusing his power in the security booth.”
“Why the fuck is he working at the school?” My dad is diverting, so I pull him back on point.
“Because he’s a fuckup and got caught smoking pot last year. He has to volunteer hours.”
My dad nods, then flits his hand for me to continue.
“He got video of my friend and me leaving campus after hours, and no, I was not going out to party or anything like that. We went to dinner and then just off campus because sometimes that place is stifling,” I say, filling in the details with a bit of truth and some fabrications before he asks. My dad wasn’t really upset after my accident the way mom was. It was maybe the only time my mother truly felt. Of course, she got over it quickly when I wasn’t hurt the way Brooklyn was. What I don’t need right now is my dad doing a deep dive into who I was leaving campus with and why. He doesn’t care that I date, but he’ll want to dissect James and his connections, and he’ll get super critical. He’ll use James as a piece in his game, something to needle me about. I’m done playing on his chess board.
“So, he’s blackmailing you?” He’s fairly familiar with how this works. I know, and I also don’t know things my father has done.
I lean my head against my shoulder and pull my lips in tight.
“Uhhh, sort of. He wants attention, and me and my friend are in his way,” I say.
“So let him try to pressure you. I’ll just sue his family and get your punishment overturned and ruin his little life. It’s fine, it’s fine.” My dad grabs the TV remote from a fold in his blanket and presses random buttons in an attempt to turn on the television. I grab it from his hand to force him to focus. Plus, I can’t stand watching him fail.
“I’d rather do this more delicately if that’s okay. My friend isn’t used to big fights like you are, and I might have an ace in my pocket,” I say.
My dad’s eyebrows perk up at my mention of an ace. That’s a term he likes, one he uses when he’s in the middle of a messy takeover. There have been times when I was the ace.
“I have some incriminating evidence because my father taught me never to permanently delete anything.” I’m stroking his ego a bit, but it’s true. And that little life advice might come back to save me—and more importantly, James.
“Good girl,” he says, his praise the thing I longed to hear when I did ballet or won the cookie sales contest. Not a Bentley girl, though. No, she gets a good girl for being good at extortion.
“What do you need from me?” he asks.
This is where my ask gets hard. I lean back and let my shoulders fall as I attempt to exhale and relax. Every muscle on me is tight. My stomach is turning, the bile crawling up my esophagus.
“I need you to ask your lawyer for a letter, one that authenticates what I have and sounds . . . serious.” Showing Toby what I have might be enough, but in case it’s not, I need him to know I’ve gone a step beyond. That I’m prepared. His family won’t want to go down this road with me, and if he can keep what I have from his family, he will.
My father laughs and puts his glasses on then snags the remote from my hand, studying the various buttons until he finds POWER.
“Just call him yourself. It’ll be fine. Everyone at the office knows who you are.” He begins changing channels, stopping on the news. He’s not watching for anything other than the business part, mostly the market. He can’t get away from it, not even in a hospital bed.
Meanwhile, my insides have died a little. I won’t call his lawyer.
“I’d really rather you asked for me. I’m asking for this one thing,” I plead. My voice breaks a little, but my dad doesn’t notice.
“Why?” He flips to a different channel.
I don’t answer, hoping that maybe somewhere in the depth of his mind he’ll recall things. He’s not that blind. I know he’s not. He’s heartless, but blind? No, he sees.
He takes his glasses off and breathes out a frustrated sigh, then looks at me again. He blinks a few times before shaking his head, but then his lips part and he chuckles out an, “Oh.” He chuckles. Hardly the right reaction.
“Morgan, I fired Hague months ago. He’s gone. Probably unemployed,” he says, turning back to the TV and hitting the volume, turning it up.
“You . . . fired him,” I repeat.
How did I not know this? Why didn’t Braden tell me?
“Yeah, yeah. I let him go about a month after that . . . you know,” he says, waving his hand. My mouth is dry, but I know in my gut that this is his way of saying sexual misconduct. Assaulting his daughter. Crossing a line. He’s uncomfortable saying the words, and maybe because I’m his daughter, or maybe because he’s surrounded by a world filled with people who push and blur those lines all the time. Maybe because deep down he knows he blurs them too.
“You have a new lawyer.” I rephrase, making sure.
“Yeah, Jeremy. Just call the office. Page will put you through.”
My father settles back in his bad, intently watching the small TV bolted to the wall near the ceiling. I don’t think he’s really interested in anything the news is reporting. I think he’s uncomfortable talking with me about this subject. None of that matters, and I’m not blown away and touched that he did the right thing for once. Pleasantly surprised? Perhaps. Shocked—definitely. But there is no big hug or pat on the back for having a conscience once in his entire life.
“Thanks,” I say, leaving it at that. I get up from my chair and drag it back to its place, knowing nobody is coming to sit in it after I leave. I scan the board on the wall, taking in the information I recognize. It looks as though he is going home soon. I’m sure he won’t follow a single order his doctor gives him. And he’ll probably be back here soon with another stroke, or a heart attack. I’ll deal with these feelings then. I’ve done enough today. No grand forgiveness, and our relationship is what it is. A very Bentley relationship.
And Toby Sullivan? He’s fucked.
I got Cameron to let me into the guys’ dorm. I feel a little strange walking through here alone. I haven’t done that since I was a third form, and I was super boy crazy. Anika and I once dared each other to kiss a boy on every floor in a race. She said I cheated because I kissed Theo for one of them, and she knew he wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. But I kissed a few boys I wish I could take back now.
And then there’s the boy I refused to kiss, which is why Anika won. I knocked on Toby’s door, and something about his expression when he saw me said he knew I was coming, and he was waiting to make sure he was the one in his room who answered. It could have been Jake. I would have kissed Jake. Probably. But I saw Toby and then stepped back and said, “I quit.”
Maybe that’s why he sent me what he did. Or maybe he is just a real piece of shit. Either way, with Jeremy’s letter in my hands, I’m ready.
I knock on his door and lean against the wall outside. I know he’s in there. I can hear his music, and I saw his roommate Ethan leave for study hall before Cameron snuck me in.
He pushes the door open and pops his head out by stretching his neck, his snake-like smile spreading on his face when his eyes spot me to his right.
“Aw, Morgan. I thought I might hear from you,” he says.
