Wrecked_A Novel Read online

  Typically, I couldn’t be stopped. But my father was Owen Wreckmond, owner and CEO of Globe Tonight. The hottest most prominent twenty-four-hour cable news network in the entire world. His main headquarters were founded in Charmant. It wasn’t his idea, so before anyone thinks about patting my old man on his back, they should probably know what I know. That my father had his business partner killed to inherit his wealthy idea. It’s all speculation, but that’s usually where the truth hides. That idea became reality and now there are Globe Tonight headquarters all over the world.

  I understood why I must “behave myself.” I got why I should lead with my charm. It’s my empire. I was a Wreckmond, my father’s only heir. Everything I wanted and desired was in his hands. And I hated him for it.

  I had no choice but to be what he wanted me to be. After high school, it’s off to the University of Georgia. Go Bulldogs. My father’s alumni. Then it’s moving my way up in Globe Tonight. It’s marrying a woman I don’t love but looks good on my arm and in front of a camera. It’s kids I never see and grandkids I won’t know. Nothing matters but money. Smile, nod, pretend you’re here for the good in the world, and then bear the brunt of the enterprise my father created. I’d lose my hair, become senile, and then I’d be remembered as Owen Wreckmond’s son.

  I’d fade away to dust and nothing.

  I couldn’t breathe walking out to my car. I blamed it on the heat. It was August, the second week of school. The end of summer was still thick and scorching in the air. We had our first game in a few weeks against the Kentucky Prowlers. I thought I’d be captain, king, that I’d earned something all on my own. But Coach Goshton had a hair up his ass twice the size of his dick and for whatever reason didn’t give two shits that if I were so inclined, my father could own his soul.

  I didn’t use my father’s legacy as a weapon.

  Unless I needed a weapon that big.

  After all, this loaded gun would be mine soon.

  And I’d never been afraid to pull the trigger.

  3. SPARKLING WATER

  Hallie

  I had one neighbor.

  At the bottom of the hill before I took the canyon road, lived an elderly woman who inherited her husband’s money when he went missing ten years ago. The gate into her property was covered by heavy hanging almond trees, their branches full of rotting nuts. The kids in town used to say she was a witch, but I thought she was broken.

  Her mansion was dated with that 90’s charm of white and glass and just a touch of awkwardly placed color. Every time I came home I thought about her. About the woman all alone with her millions. I’d seen her twice. Once when she was filling a basket with almond buds, and another when she was pushing her gate open. It must’ve been stuck, or maybe she got tired of waiting for it to open.

  Twice in eighteen years. I’ve lived in my childhood home my entire life and I’ve always wanted to walk down the canyon, cut through the almond trees, and knock on her door. I wanted to hear her voice, to know she was real. I’ve never understood my obsession. Maybe it’s knowing she’s probably untainted by this city’s toxic waste, aka the wealthy. I wanted to breathe in her words, soak in her authenticity.

  Of course, this could all be my own idealizations. She could in fact be tainted. Or just sad.

  I drove by her mansion slowly, trying to see inside the west windows facing the street. If I were a shut-in, I’d probably hang out on the other side of the house, staring down at Charmant like a prisoner trapped in a beautiful glass cage.

  Charmant was physically beautiful. There’s no denying that. Fifty miles outside of Atlanta, it kept the charm of the south alive at the same time it surpassed it. The entire city was encapsulated inside of a gorgeous intimidating canyon the color of rust and salt. There was one major road in and one major road out. Mansion’s cut into the canyons, defying gravity. The sun radiated off the gorge in the summer, and the snow dusted the tops in the winter. It was everything we were. Stunning. But it was everything we weren’t at the same time. Free.

  The groundskeeper was unloading in the guest driveway when I got home. I studied Jack and his son, Tristan. My heart sped up at the sight of him. My stomach filled with heat, and not the good kind of warm, but the bad kind of fire. He was so hot in his ripped blue jeans and white tank top. His biceps were corded in muscles and his coffee brown hair made me want to plunge my fingers in it and hang on to him.

  Last summer still hadn’t left my system. And with my reaction, came sadness so intense it clouded my vision. I knew when Jack brought his son over I’d be in trouble. He was too gorgeous to ignore, off-limits, and so untainted by Charmant he smelled of freedom and gardening supplies.

  We’d spent the summer together in private, sneaking kisses when he was supposed to be trimming the lawn. Swimming when he was supposed to be spraying the roses. Losing my virginity when I was supposed to be applying to colleges.

  I’d known what my father would do if he found out. Tristan had been my first honest addiction. My father had done his best to show me exactly how he felt about my weakness.

  Tristan and I had been in the library when he caught us together for the first time, or so I thought. It had been his day off. I’d been admiring his muscles as he reached for the top shelves. My father cleared his throat and tore me from my daydreams, which consisted of taking Tristan back to my bedroom and letting him cultivate my dirty thoughts.

  He asked to speak with me. My father wasn’t a father. I knew he wasn’t being protective. I followed him into his office and he set down a sheet of paper in front of me. I read it over, finding that it was a bank statement for Jack Roth from his Goodford Finance account. He had $556.36 in his bank account.

  “Jack’s wife cannot work, Hallie. She’s disabled. I pay him well. No one else in this town would do so. If I fire him because his hormonal, poor, nobody of a son, wants to sully my daughter in the pool house—yes, dear, security showed me the tapes,” he sneered, when I gasped quietly. “No one else will hire him. I pay him well and provide phenomenal health insurance. Without this income, his wife and family will suffer. Tristan will drop out of high school no doubt to get a job. He’ll spend the rest of his life taking care of his parents. He’ll be poor and trapped when they’re gone. Do you want that to happen to them?”

  “Dad—” I started, but his evil, empty eyes stopped me up short. “No, I don’t want that for him.”

  “Then you’ll stop seeing him. Or I’ll turn this whole town against him and his family will crumble. Look, Hallie.” He sat down and stared levelly at me. “It’s your body. You can sleep with whoever you want if they’re as good as you. Think up. You want to give the security team a show? Do it with someone who counts. The Ripford’s… the Wreckmond’s. They both have sons that are worthy of you. Keep that in mind the next time you want to lessen yourself.”

  I was so furious, I couldn’t speak. “I love him.”

  He rolled his eyes, like love was a boring unproven fact. “Then cut him loose, or I’ll get rid of them. And you can think about how his shitty life is your fault when you inherit my empire. Now get out. I have a conference call in five.”

  It had been a year since I’d spoken to Tristan. He hadn’t come to help his father all summer. I didn’t blame him with how things ended. One moment we were inseparable, and the next, I avoided him like the plague. I hated myself for breaking his heart. Hated myself for breaking mine more. He tried for weeks to get my attention. Leaving notes on my pillow. Unable to take it, I’d asked my father to keep him out of the house. I didn’t know what he did, but Tristan didn’t come anywhere near me again.

  Sensing my stare, he turned around. When our eyes connected, I felt a blast of ice shoot from his hard gaze. He hated me.

  “That makes two of us.” I tore my eyes from his and drove past the guest driveway for the main.

  It wasn’t like we’d marry, right? Dad would have ruined us at some point. The longer we stayed together, the harder it would have been to leave him. But
the truth was, leaving Tristan was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. He was everything my heart desired. Free, untainted, owner of his own destiny. Maybe it was my fault fooling myself into thinking we could be together. Opening hearts that weren’t meant to be paired. My father owned me. He bought me from a woman before I was even born.

  He paid for my birth.

  He owned my existence.

  I slammed my car door and slung my bag over my shoulder, heading into the house through the garage. The backroom was roaring with life. Washing machines and driers tumbling clothes that were probably never even dirty to begin with.

  I headed into the kitchen to find Illa, our housekeeper, prepping food for the week.

  The Goodford’s never ate together unless it was a holiday and Dad had investors over to show them what a happy loving family we were. Illa prepped healthy meals, calculated the calories, and then labeled each dish. My mother was on a forever diet. She had it in her mind that she was in constant competition with younger women, but she didn’t get it.

  There was no competition. Dad cheated on her all the time, but he’d never leave her. A divorce would be a very bad thing for his career. He picked her for his own reasons and so far, she played her role well. Maybe I should take a card from my father’s book. Marry someone good for my image but keep men like Tristan on the side.

  “He has his nerve.” I wrenched the fridge open and grabbed a bottle of overpriced sparkling mineral water. “Can’t we have regular water? It won’t hurt to drink below our pay grade.” I stewed on a stool, watching her chop orange bell peppers.

  “Mrs. Goodford wants fancy water. Mrs. Goodford gets fancy water.”

  “What about what I want?” I demanded, like Illa had a say in anything.

  She shrugged, her lips tugging in the corners. “Tell me.”

  “I want regular water. The same water everyone else drinks.”

  She set her knife down, got a glass from the cabinet, and then filled it with lukewarm tap water. She set it down in front of me. “Same water everyone in Georgia drinks.”

  I glared into the clear liquid. “Not true. The canyon filters the water before it gets to the main well. Water in Charmant tastes better too.”

  “What do you want me to do? Bring water from home?”

  “Yes.” I held her amused gaze. I wasn’t laughing. I wanted real. Even for a second.

  She grabbed my glass and drank it down. “You keep messing around. I’ll drink your good water.”

  I let my bag drop to the floor. I rested my chin on my hand. “How’s Lettie? Did she pass her driving test?” Illa had been entertaining me with tales of teaching her granddaughter how to drive.

  She winked. “No.”

  We both laughed. “What’s that? Like her sixth try? What did she do this time?”

  “It wasn’t her fault. The instructor took her on the highway. If he didn’t want to risk his life, he should have called in sick.”

  I imagined high-strung Lettie speeding down the highway with a terrified instructor and nearly peed my pants. I only ever laughed when Illa was around. She’d been our housekeeper since I was a girl and she’d shared my woes with me. Getting my period for the first time, my first crush, she taught me to love my curves and accept the parts I wasn’t so proud of, not cover them or starve them away like my mother—she was there for me. And she didn’t have to be.

  I sighed when I’d calmed. “What about Hyde?” I asked, thinking about her handsome ladies’ man of a son. “How’s he doing?”

  “Hyde is good.” Her eyes shot to mine. “What’s wrong, Hallie?”

  “Just coming to terms with my inevitable future, Illa. That’s all.”

  “Well, since you’re already in such a bad mood, I’ll be the one to break this to you.” She set her knife down and found my worried gaze. “Mrs. Goodford hired a new housekeeper.”

  My. Heart. Shattered.

  “Oh, before you go on a rampage, she’s not firing me. I’m not young anymore, Hallie. I can’t spend ten hours a day on my feet.” Her tired eyes begged me to understand.

  I shook my head. There was no understanding. “I’ll help more. I’ll pick up the slack. She doesn’t have to know.”

  “Hallie. It is okay.” Her firm tone almost kept my tears at bay.

  “Illa,” I whispered, my tears spilling over. “I need you. I love you. I can’t live in this house without you.”

  She hung her head. “I love you too, baby doll. But Illa is tired. With how much your parents paid me, I could have retired years ago. I only stayed this long for you.”

  “Then stay a little longer.” I walked on empty legs to her, wrapping my arms around her from behind. “Please, Illa. You can’t leave me.”

  Without her, I’d be alone in the worst way. Me, in this mansion, with no realness or emotion in my life. Dad took Tristan away, but he gave me Illa long before he did.

  “I’ll stay until you go to college,” she conceded, moving around to engulf me in her loving arms. “And you be nice to the new girl. She’s been hurting for work. Used to work for the Wreckmond’s,” she whispered in my ear. “But Mrs. Wreckmond didn’t like the way she looked at her son.”

  I snorted. “But he can’t help it, Illa. He’s so perfect and gorgeous.”

  She chuckled at my sarcastic tone. “Hmm. He is fine. If I were younger.” She pulled back and wiggled her dark brows. “I’d gladly fold his sheets, if you know what I mean.”

  I laughed uncomfortably. “Illa, seriously? Eww.”

  “Mhm.” She picked up her towel and swatted me with it. “Homework, now. I’ll bring up some soy milk and oatmeal cookies in a few.”

  That was code for the secret bottle of whole milk she kept in the back and her homemade double chocolate chip cookies. My toes curled in my sandals. A far more thrilling thought than “Wreck” Wreckmond. Pretty face aside, the guy was everything I hated about life in Charmant.

  Flawless, privileged, and oozing self-entitlement.

  Plus, the guy had no first name. What kind of person didn’t have a first name? One so powerful they could overlook their own birth certificate in exchange for their own desires.

  A man more stuck in this city than I was.

  ***

  For such an affluent town, it was boring.

  The only people who pushed the lines of right and wrong were the Charming Knights. The football team for Charming High School was teeming with testosterone fueled rebellion.

  At least that’s how I saw it. The local news played in the background, building hype for their upcoming season. Not that they needed the help. If money was number one in Charmant, football was number two. Lies were number three. And fake smiles were number four.

  I closed my French pamphlet and lobbed my pencil at my notes, rubbing the tension from my head. Ever since senior year started, so had the headaches.

  I was going to implode.

  Not that it would matter.

  I’d have to scrape my organs together anyway and follow into my father’s footsteps, because blood money was still money after all. Goodford Finance. The largest bank in the United States. That’s my only vision when I think of my future.

  After I got my business degree—all for show, the legacy was mine—I would don my simple smart business outfit, follow my father into his kingdom, marry some equally rich abhorrent snob, have a couple kids I won’t have time to know, and start the process all over again.

  Rinse. Lather. Repeat.

  I was destined for that life, but I fought my chains. Not to know I could fight, but because I wanted to hear my chains jingle. To hear the clank of my true self still inside of me begging to be set free.

  ***

  Someone was humming the next morning when I left for school.

  I followed the noise to a young woman, probably in her early twenties, on her knees cleaning the baseboards. When she looked up at me, I knew Illa was twisting my arm. She was stunning. Deep black hair, skin the color of cream. Her eyes gli
ttered in the dim hall like clear blue stones. Wreck probably had his eye on her. Not the other way around.

  There was no way Owen Wreckmond would let his precious pride and joy sully the family line any more than my father.

  I instantly liked her.

  “Hi,” I said, smiling shyly.

  “Hi,” she said back, smile shyer than mine.

  Wreck would eat her alive.

  I stepped forward and gave her my hand. “I’m Hallie. The daughter.”

  She pushed her thick hair out of her face and took it, shaking back lightly. “Tula. Um… did you need something?”

  I hated this. The respect I did not earn. “No. Do you need anything? This place is a maze. I used to get lost when I was little.”

  She smiled wanly. “I was instructed not to make friends, Miss Hallie. No matter what. If you need something, I’d be more than glad to do it for you?”

  Dad got to her. Mom probably too if she knew about her past with the Wreckmond’s. The matriarchs of the family’s in Charmant stuck together like the patriarch’s. Noses in their businesses, so bored with their diamonds.

  “No. I’m fine. Thank you.” My dark blue Prada wedges pounded on the deep mahogany floors in the hall. I stomped to the east side of the property for my parent’s room. It was seven in the morning. Mom wasn’t up until at least noon.

  “Tough.” I pushed their double doors opened to find her nestled in her clouds of white covers.

  So. Much. White.

  White walls, white fixings, white sheer curtains, white bed posts.

  Insane asylum anyone?

  “Mom?” I stood on the side of their monstrous bed.

  “Hmm?” she mumbled, her eyes covered by a white mask.

  “You can’t cut Illa’s hours and then replace her with Snow White.”

  “Why not?” Her accent was so falsely dignified, it made me want to hurl.

  Everyone in Charmant sounded the same. We all had a slight accent, but there was too much snooty in it to count. But Mom’s accent was so much more pronounced, like she wanted everyone to think she was from here. Look, I loved my mother. I did. She did the best she could with her hands full of expensive toys, but all my life I’d yearned for what I had with Illa. Some emotions, some support. Some freaking love!