Sinners & Saints (Sinners & Saints #1) (3 page)

After dinner, I’m not tired so I decide
to chill in the living room. I could use a cigarette. I just started smoking months
ago. Shame, I know, kids of wealth tend to enter the recreational adult world
early. At twelve we get access to alcohol. At fourteen we get the drugs. We get
sex whenever. I’ve never really done any of that. Not even sex, which is
pitiful. I would love to have sex. I would love to have sex with Scarlett.

 
“Hello.” I know her voice like anyone
knows the beat and lyrics to their favorite song. I look up and see Scarlett
standing at the entrance. “Why are you still up?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I answer, my mouth
open, drool starting to seep out. I quickly close it. She looks hot in her blue
sundress. I wonder how she looks under it.

“Well, let’s have some fun then.” She
walks over to the mini bar and grabs two shot glasses bringing them and bottle
of brandy over to the couch. She sits across from me and sets everything on the
coffee table that separates us. She pours the drinks and hands me my glass.

“So how was your trip?” I ask.

“It was okay,” she shrugs. “My mother
spent the whole time drinking while her freeloading boyfriend fucked his
masseuse.”

“Well, I don’t think my dad has ever
slept with a masseuse,” I think out loud and she laughs a little.

 
“You’re funny, Hugo. Gabriel was funny
too.”

“Tell me about him.” I didn’t know
Gabriel well. Maybe, through Scarlett, I can get to make sense of his
estrangement from me for the last few years.

“Gabriel was...” She pauses for a
moment, her eyes staring off, trying to find the answer.
 
“He was one of the realest people I ever
knew.”

“How so?”

“He didn’t care what people thought of
him. I liked that most about him. You are familiar with his reputation, aren’t
you?”

I shake my head no.

“Well, you will be once school starts.
Your brother was everything guys hated and wanted to be while women hated the
fact that they wanted him.”

“So my brother was a player?”

“No, he was more than that.” Her eyes
peer up in wonder. “He was an artist when it came to seduction and
destruction.”

 
“So, my brother slept with a lot of girls,”
I sound out slowly.

“And women. He had them all, from wives
to teachers. He destroyed marriages and turned innocent virgins into sluts.”

Her smile lights up, just thinking about
what I feel are horrible things to do to a person. At the same time, exciting.
It would be exciting to just not care and to sleep with whoever and do whatever
and say whatever.

“Why would he do that?”
 
I ask eagerly.

“Because he was bored and he needed to
feel something. I’m the one that taught him. I taught until there was nothing
else to teach. Soon he exceeded my expectations and we taught each other.”

“So, you also like playing games with
people?”

She shrugs, a sly grin on her face. “I
take pride in it. All of us here do.”

“Why?”

“Why not? We’re rich, some beautiful,
but with money it doesn’t matter. Money truly represents everything from good
to all evil. We’re bored. Our parents send us here because they don’t want to
be bothered. Ms. Eleanor doesn’t know shit and again our parents
—
well they might as well not be our
parents. Hugo, we are taught to be advanced in every form from academically to
socially. I think our parents fucked it up, taking that advancement for
granted. They wanted us to grow up with everything and in return of that we
became spoiled. Gabriel told me that when you guys were little, your father
made you sit with him in boardroom meetings where you were taught the brutality
of business. You watched as he destroyed millions of jobs for the sake of his
company. You watched as he capitalized on everything he could get his hands on
no matter the cost. You were taught to be a man by the one man who was to blame
for your suffering. Gabriel got tired of all the bullshit. I think that’s why
he lost contact with you. He was tired of needing love.” Her cold expression
turns into sympathy. “He told me about your mother. How you found her.”

I stare down at my lap, biting back the
picture of my mother’s face.

“Don’t think about it,” she insists, but
how am I not going to think about it? Sometimes it’s all I think about.

“If you think about it, you’ll stay
stuck. Don’t stay stuck, Hugo.”

 
“Then what the hell should I think
about?” I get annoyed. I regret snapping on her when all she is doing is giving
me reasonable advice.

“You could continue thinking about me.”

I gape at her and choke out the words.
“Wha-What makes you think I think about you?” I am failing at trying to act
cool.

“Because you do. You’ve been thinking
about me since you first met me. It’s okay. I feel the connection too. Gabriel
and I had it as well.”

“So, you and my brother...” I prolong
the question, not wanting to even picture his hands on her. I don’t want to
picture any man’s hands on her.

“Had sex? Yes,” she says with
conviction. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” I quickly lie.

Her smile grows wider and becomes
wicked. “Yes, you are,” she says with amusement. “Don’t worry though. I think
you and I can be very good friends.”

“You’re very… to the point, aren’t you?”
 
Her boldness not only terrifies me
but excites me as well.

She presses her mouth close twisting it
into a wicked smirk and arches her brow. “Yes, I am. I’ve always learned to
never waste time on prolonging the truth. Always be forthright about what you
want and how you want it. You see, Hugo, there is an art to manipulating the
noblest of creatures. I can teach you that.” I don’t know if I want to learn
that… but then again, I don’t have much else to do and if I had to do terrible
things to become close with Scarlett, then I will do it. “Speaking of noble
creature… are you a virgin?”

My heart drops along with my jaw. “No.”
I am a poor excuse for a liar.

She laughs. “You are a terrible liar.
You’ve probably never lied a day in your life. It’s okay. We can fix that. If
you want, we can fix your other problem too.” Holy shit. She licks her lips, staring
down at my lap.
 
“I was Gabriel’s
first too.”

 
I nervously laugh. “You really are sure
of yourself, huh?”

“What you’re going to learn about me,
Hugo Mandrake, is that I get what I want... always.”

“Well, maybe it’s time for a change,” I
fire back. I don’t know much, but I know people like a challenge. Or is it just
men who love a challenge? Shit. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

She slowly shakes her head. “No. I think
not.”

She stands up in front of me and before
I can even register what is about to happen, it happens. She slides the straps
of the dress off her shoulder and lets it gracefully fall to the floor. My eyes
travel from her feet up to her legs up to her breasts that are entrapped in a
black bra.

“Tell me, Hugo.” I look back at her
face. “Can you resist? If I were you, I wouldn’t. In fact, I know you won’t
because you’re tired of feeling everything.” She starts to frown in sympathy.
“While also feeling nothing. You’re tired of being alone. I won’t ever let you
be alone, Hugo. I cared deeply for Gabriel and because of that I can’t help but
care deeply for you too.”

She walks carefully around the coffee
table to me and props herself right on my lap, wrapping her arms around my
shoulders.

“You’re tired of feeling like you’re not
enough to stay alive for. You’re tired of everyone leaving you and more
importantly you’re tired of the pressure of being the only one remotely close
to being normal in your godforsaken family.”

 
She’s right. I am tired of all that. I’m
tired of all the careless and selfish people that surround me. I want to feel
something
—
feel truly
good just once. I want to feel ecstasy because ecstasy is a feeling of true
happiness and pleasure. I want it all and I want it all with her. She slides her
hands over my chest then places them on the hem of my dark blue Ralph Lauren
polo shirt. Her eyes look for my permission in mine. I raise my arms up and she
removes my shirt for me. She moves her hips causing my hard on to reach a whole
new level of hard ons.

“So, Hugo, what’s it going to be?” she
whispers against my lips, brushing them against mine, breathing her air inside
my mouth while combing her gentle fingers through my hair. “It’s your move.
Take what’s yours.”

Take what’s mine. Those words overcome
every false sentiment my mother possessed, every shout my dad laid onto my
brothers and me, everything wrong with my wealthy life that everyone on the
outside thinks is perfect. Take what is mine and Scarlett is mine. That’s all I
know, that’s all I will become. I will become the man who possesses Scarlett.
It’s what I, a fifteen-year old pubescent boy, needs more than anything. Sex.

I clasp my hands on her cheek and kiss
her like a madman. She moans and bites my lip, slipping her tongue into my
mouth, devouring me. The last time I actually tongue kissed a girl was my first
kiss at ten and it was Grace Windom. It was horrible, nothing like kissing
Scarlett. Scarlet is sexy. Scarlett is older. Scarlett is Scarlett. She is like
no other. She’s bad for me, I know it, but I want the bad. I grip her ass,
pressing her harder to me. Her chest on my chest, her legs wrapped around my
waist. Her gasp gives me courage. I slam her onto the coffee table, knocking
everything off with my free arm. Her smile gives me confidence. I kiss the top
of her breasts then work my way down quickly. She moans my name and that gives
me life. I move back up and land my lips back on hers. She places her hands on
my face and looks at me, stopping the moment. I worry that I am not doing as
great as I led myself to think. Her bright smile quickly diffuses my doubt. I
can’t believe this. I’m about to lose my virginity in the living room of my new
home. I just hope no one wakes up and comes in here. Then again I don’t really
care.

“You’re a fast learner,” she tells me.

I shrug, grinning from ear to ear,
proudly. “I guess I’m adaptable,” I say breathing heavily, anxious to continue.
This is it. I will no longer be a virgin.

“You’re going to be fun,” she predicts.
She kisses me and reaches for the button of my pants. She unbuttons them and
moves the zipper down before reaching inside and grabbing hold of me. She
starts to stroke it, preparing me for what is going to be the greatest night of
my life.

This night will change everything. This
night will be the beginning. I am so happy. I know I will be forever now.
Scarlett will make me happy. Scarlett will make me strong. Scarlett will make
me a man. I never knew sinning could be so invigorating.

Part 2

“It takes very little to govern
good people. Very little. And bad people can’t be governed at all. Or if they
could I never heard of it.”

-
      
Cormac
McCarthy (No Country for Old Men)

2

 
Years Later

JULIET

When I met the Queen of England, I only
had one question.

“Where do you get your underwear?”

 
Yeah, that was what I asked the Queen of
England. Scandalous behavior they all said. Ever since then, my mum has been
sitting on pins and needles, waiting my next move as if I am planning to
unleash a nuclear bomb.

“Juliet, are you listening to me?” She’s
lecturing me on the phone right now. I used to be way worse. She didn’t lecture
me then though, maybe because I was good at hiding the bad. Now, I am out and
open with my, as she calls it, outlandish behavior. In translation, I just tell
people the truth… a lot. And telling the truth means bad behavior. The irony of
life, yah?
 
“Juliet, I don’t want
you getting into all sorts of trouble.”

“Mum, I’m not gonna get into trouble,” I
say, readjusting my ear buds that are connected to my cell. “Don’t worry, everything
will be okay. I’ll call you after I get settled.”

She pauses, probably biting her thumb.
“Okay dear.” There’s the long pause. Cue the three words that she finds hard to
say sometimes. “I love you.”

I smile. “Love you too. Give Dad and
Gregor a kiss kiss for me.” I hang up and step on the escalator headed down to
the luggage drop off.

My mum is a worrier and has always been
very hesitant with displaying affection. She used to be ice, but now she has
become ice that slowly melts. I’m sure it will be melting for a very long time.
I like it though, her worrying. It shows she cares. Like everyone else, I
always need the people I love to show me that they care.
It’s always a confirmation that I’m not alone
outside of my journey through life
. We walk through life on our own, but
we should always have people on the sidelines cheering us on and passing us a
cup of water or whatever energy drink is on the high now. I personally value a
Red Bull every once in a while. It does give you wings, especially mixed with
whiskey. Nevertheless, she needs not to worry. I won’t get into trouble. Well,
I hope not too much trouble.

JITTERY
BIOOOTCCHH:

Did you
arrive in America yet Bitch? I loathe Americans. Except Beyoncé. Brangelina too
and all their kids that aren’t from a foreign country. I love them too. If you
run into Taylor Swift sock her in the snatch for me! I know you love her and
all that shit, but every time she’s on screen she’s so happy. I need her to
stop it! Life isn’t that great.

I laugh out loud at the text I read. I
didn’t name her this in my phone, by the way. She did. She gets a kick out of
her problems.

Me:

I love me
some Tay Tay. NO I WILL NOT ASSAULT HER! But I will hug and kiss Beyonce so her
halo can bless me. Brangelina is overrated. But still my fantasy ménage a
trois. And shutup. Life is great and you know it.

New York. I’m transferring here from
London because I just needed a new scene. There isn’t a special reason why I
wanted to move to New York; I just knew I didn’t want to live in L.A.
—
too much sun, too much blonde
—
or any other city in America, so New
York it is and Columbia is a great university. I want an adventure. A real
adventure would probably be traveling the world, but for my parents’ sake, I
will finish school first. I’m going to be staying at Ms. Eleanor’s until the
school term starts. I have only met her once during the summer I spent with my
mormor
in her villa in France. Her and
Ms. Eleanor became best friends through mysterious circumstances they said. Ms.
Eleanor left quite the impression when I first met her. She was just like my mormor
—
eccentric, full of life, and a shine to
her, but a bit screws loose. My mormor ignored it. She always saw the best in
people. This trait of hers is what saved me. She always saw the best in me even
when I never saw it in myself. I always found it shocking that my mum turned
out the opposite, but Mormor told me that she wasn’t always so free. “So
there’s hope for you yet, darling,” she said to me when I was eleven and
noticed I was becoming a real spoiled bitch. She actually called me that, but
in the sweetest way. I miss her. I miss her every day and in return my heart
hurts a bit every day, but as she would say, “The wind always blows.”

HUGO

No one ever truly cares about the bad
things they have done, especially when it provides them with something good. I,
on the other hand, just don’t care. I am guilt free, but Brook
—
she isn’t.

“You missed a button,” I point out while
she gets dressed. She quickly looks down, her brunette hair falling around her
face and shoulders.

“I’m late,” she says as she re-buttons
her blouse.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure your husband and
your marriage counselor won’t mind your late arrival,” I say, lighting up my
cigarette.

“Yeah, well, I need to go home first and
get dressed. These are the clothes I wore yesterday and he saw me before I came
here.”

Brooke Winston is the wife of Gregory
Winston and daughter of Gordon Bigford, the CEO of BGE, one of the largest
energy companies in the U.S. At thirty-one, she has two kids, a shih tzu named
Brutus, and has had five nervous breakdowns in the last six years. We started
sleeping together two months ago. The usual failed marriage story
—
she found out Gregory was screwing one
of the four babysitters she had taking care of their kids. It’s a tale as old
as time. Husband cheats, wife either accepts it leading to a life of turmoil or
fucks someone herself
,
like the
pool boy, bellhop, his brother or
—
like her
best friend and her two first cousins
—
me.

“Okay. Call me later?” she asks as she
looks at the mirror fixing her bed hair.

“I never call,” I say, coldly. I never
understand why women ask me this question with hope in their voice as if there
is a chance I would call.

“Well then,” she says softly, clearly
hurt by it. It’s one thing to get treated like shit by your husband but another
by your lover too. “I’ll call you.” But it never stops her from coming back to
me. She turns around and smiles. I don’t smile back because personally I rarely
smile.

 
“Tell your husband and his imaginary sex
addiction I say hello.”

She turns back and gives me the finger. I
smirk at that.

Brooke is thirty-one and already
unhappy. I can’t judge. I’m twenty-two and unhappy so what is the difference?

I lay out my black tailored suit jacket
and pants and a crisped white V-neck shirt before taking a hot shower. I throw
them on and grab my sunglasses, the ones my brother Gabriel once owned. I
always wear sunglasses. It’s rare when people see my eyes. I walk down the
steps to the foyer where I see little Cody Nichols.

“Good morning, Cody.”

Cody Nichols is an eighteen-year-old
African American male and still a virgin. He still wears his class pin on his
dinner jacket for Christ sakes. He’s a sad excuse for a teenage male. If only
he would let me, I would make it my mission to get him to unlock his chastity
belt and get deflowered by some housewife or a high-paid escort. There isn’t
really a difference nowadays.

“Where are you going this early?” he
asks me with a bowl of Lucky Charms in his hand.

“I have some business to tend to. I’ll
be back soon.”

“New girl arriving today.”

“I heard. Hopefully she’s not a bore.
Good day.” I pat him on the head like a little puppy and he frowns.

“Good day,” he mocks me.

JULIET

I step out of the limo to see the
beautiful thirty-two-room triplex on the corner of Fifth Avenue. It looks old,
still luxurious. The building is dark green with brown frames and roof.

A girl with short brown hair
—
the color of cinnamon to be exact
—
falling around her chin comes out towards
me. She’s so tall. Must be at least 5’10. I’m 5’8, but she has the long legs to
add to the depth. Most people don’t know I’m tall until they are up close.

“You must be Juliet Spears.” She stretches
out her hand for me to shake.

“Yes.”

“Jordana Abbott.” Jordana is beautiful.
Like painfully beautiful. She has to be a model or the daughter of very
gorgeous parents. She is wearing a white sleeveless blouse and black trousers
that stop at the ankles, showing her leather black flats with a gold buckle on
them. Her skin looks enriched in smoothness and her eyes are dark green. Her
skin is like the color of a porcelain doll and her lips are thin and pink. The
only thing that looks childlike on her are her apple cheekbones that enhance
the beauty of her face.

The driver starts retrieving my luggage
and I follow Jordana in. I’m immediately in awe at the scenery as I walk
through the foyer and turn to my right. The living room could be out of the
Marie Antoinette
film. White walls with
gold Victorian style carvings on them. Beige green sofas sitting across from
each other and a dark brown coffee table between them with gold carvings
designed on the edges. Black Greek head statues on each corner over stone
mantles. Gold candleholders on each wall section of the room. A painting of
Frida Kahlo kind of throws me off. It doesn’t match the room at all, but
doesn’t take away from the beauty of it. On the other side is the dining room.
The gold curtains gain my attention. No profound reason; I just like gold.

Jordana leads me through the hall, pass
the staircase and to the back patio where a woman is lying face down on a white
full mini bed, moaning in pleasure while a shirtless, muscled, tan man with shiny
black hair rubs oil on her back.

“Ms. Eleanor, our guest has arrived,”
Jordana announces.

Ms. Eleanor’s head pops up. She screams
in excitement and sits up, revealing her breasts to me. I immediately look
away. “Juliet!” I wait a moment then glance to make sure she’s no longer
indecent. She runs to me in her plush white robe and purple scarf around her
head. She kisses me with a kiss on each cheek and a tight hug
—
firm but warm.

“You have grown up to be a beautiful
young angel.” She smiles and brushes my hair.

“Thank you.”

“Isn’t she beautiful, Federico?” She
turns to the sexy muscled masseuse.

“Yes, very beautiful.” He speaks in a
thick Spanish accent and stares at me in a seductive way that makes me
definitely imagine him on top of me.
 

Ms. Eleanor’s chocolate brown eyes gleam
with joy. Her high cheekbones are still intact. Probably had some work done.

“Well, I have to get back to my massage.”
She looks back at Federico then winks at me. “But Jordana will get you settled
in and then I will see you at dinner, okay?” She taps her finger on my nose and
I laugh a little. “Okay.”

“You will get used to her flashing those
around,” Jordana says once we leave the room. “She’s very proud of her breast
lift.”

I arch my brow in amusement. “I thought
they looked a bit more perky than they should have.”

Jordana snickers. “You ready for the
tour?”

“Yes.”

She shows me through the home. Thirty-two
rooms, including full bathrooms for each bedroom. Three floors. The first floor
consists of the kitchen, dining room, living room, and another room Jordana
called a recreational room where everyone watches telly and doesn’t worry about
dirtying up the fancy furniture when snacking. Aside from the kitchen, it’s the
most modernized room in the home. Black leather couches and chairs and a red
coffee table in the middle with a very large flat screen television mounted on
the wall. The other rooms are more vintage and luxurious. Second floor are the
bedrooms. Jordana leads me upstairs to introduce me to the other people staying
here and I am not ready for the strawberry blonde girl in a pink tutu lunging
at me.

“Juliet, this is Poppy,” Jordana
introduces us as Poppy squeezes me tight. “Oh my God! Hi!” She gave me a big
hug, probably warmer than Ms. Eleanor’s.

“Hello,” I breathe out as she releases
me from her death grip.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I love the
British! I love your accents. Say my name right now.”

“Uh… Poppy.”

Her scream makes me jump.

“That’s so cute. It’s so sophisticated.”
I laugh at her compliment. This girl is clearly a nutter, but adorable.

“Poppy is our bright and bubbly ball of
sunshine in our little family.” Jordana pats her on her head as she giggles.

“I can tell,” I say.