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Chapter 4
Ryder suggested we move our party to the lobby. I couldn’t help but giggle at that. I had never been invited to a party (minus the elite affairs forced upon me by my precious parents), but I didn’t think what we were doing constituted as a party. No, I am most certain, based on my extensive Netflix research, that parties do not involve sitting on couches and chairs while eyeing one another warily.
“Is everybody okay?” Asher asked for probably the one-hundredth time.
“Fine and dandy,” responded Ryder, flashing me a cheeky grin. “All my organs are still in working order.”
“Pervert,” I muttered.
The only response came from the crackling flames from the fireplace. The heat it emitted was near stifling, but I was not brave enough to suggest moving the party elsewhere. See? Pun.
Spotting a familiar, gray-haired man hobbling through the expansive lobby, I jumped to my feet.
“Mr. Ackles! How is everyone? Are there any injuries?”
The resort’s manager considered me with kind eyes. I always thought Mr. Ackles was too good to work at such a place, too kind to be under the thumb of my malicious parents. He had a way about him, whether he was fussing at me for running down his halls or reminding me not to do drugs, that reminded me of a grandpa. If I had a grandpa, because I seriously believed my parents were hatched from the eggs of the devil, I would want him to be like Mr. Ackles.
“I just heard back from Gavin. There was one minor injury, but nothing else has been reported.”
I let out a relieved breath at the information.
“And you? How are you?” I asked, surveying his tiny form. For as long as I could remember, Mr. Ackles walked with a limp. He told me once that he had gotten it from the war, and I knew that even the slightest bit of strain could cause him immense pain.
“I’m fine, darling.” He waved his hand dismissively, though I didn’t miss the slight wince as he attempted to amble back towards the elevator.
“You’re not fine,” I countered. “You need to rest. Go sit at the counter. Don’t worry about anything besides getting yourself better.”
“But your father-”
“I’ll talk to my father. Go. Sit.” Without breaking eye-contact, I pointed towards the mahogany counter situated at the far wall of the lobby. I knew that there was a stool directly behind it, though very few employees dared to sit on the job. Daddy was a mean son of a bitch, and his employees were well aware of his temper tantrums.
Mr. Ackles gave me an undecipherable look before nodding his head. Relief was evident in his eyes as he hobbled back towards the desk. I made sure to keep an eye on him until he was safely seated and engaged in conversation with one of the many guests demanding an explanation (though why people felt the need to reprimand the resort for a natural disaster was beyond my comprehension. Seriously, people were strange).
Turning back towards the boys, I saw them all staring at me with varying expressions of awe, though they quickly turned towards one another when they caught me looking. A tentative smile played on Calax’s lips, but his eyes remained glued to Asher, acting as though he was paying attention to whatever the other was saying.
“Look,” I began, sliding back into my seat between Ryder and Ronan (The R squared, as I liked to call them in my head). “Can we just admit that what happened in the diner was one big shit-fest? A shest?”
“A chest?” Tamson parroted, peeking at me through his mane of curly hair.
“A shest,” I repeated. “S. H. E. S. T. It’s my word for shit-fest.”
“Do you do that a lot?” Ronan questioned. He brought his knuckles to his chin and sat his elbow on his knee as he surveyed me. “Make up words?”
“Yes,” Calax, the bastard, responded for me. I threw a throw-pillow at him which he neatly dodged. Apparently undeterred by my anger, he continued, “Her mind is strange. I don’t even understand what goes through her head half the time.”
“First you call me fat, and now you call me dumb. Is this National Insult Adelaide Day? Because I’m pretty sure that day passed like two months ago. They had a whole parade and everything. I think my parents even got a piñata that looked exactly like me just so they could whack it with a stick without guilt. Unfortunately, no candy came out. Just guts. And blood. I think the piñata was alive.”
There was a moment of stunned silence, and then Calax said, “See?”
The boys burst into laughter. If I wasn’t a mature, young lady, I would’ve given Calax the middle finger and then threatened to burn him alive at the stake. Instead, I walked over, hit his head, and then sat back down.Maturely.
“So, want to tell me why you guys are here?” I said, attempting to change the subject. Calax was rubbing at his head, eyes narrowed on me, and Ronan was on the floor in peals of laughter.
“Well, as we said before, we go to Highwood Prep. It’s a private school a couple of miles from here,” Ryder began.
“There was a fire in our dormitories,” Asher continued, “so we used our admission fee to pay for a section of the resort as a replacement until the repairs are completed.”
“Highwood Prep isn’t just a high school,” Ronan continued, finally collecting himself enough to move back towards his recliner. “It actually goes all the way to college. I think the youngest kids are about thirteen and the oldest are…what?...maybe twenty-one or so.”
