Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Taking out my keys, I tap my wrist that doesn’t have a watch and then unlock the door to the school building. I don’t give a shit if they’re on school property after hours, but the cameras are watching, and I need to look like I’m telling them to go home.
“Have a good summer!” one of them sings, followed by a laugh.
“We won’t tell if you won’t, Mr. Jaeger,” another one taunts.
Stepping inside, I slam the door. Mr. Jaeger. It still sounds foreign, as if I’m in trouble instead of in a position of respect.
Silence and blackness envelop me, and I close my eyes for a second, sinking into a world that belongs only to me. At least at this time of night.
I may never have watched Liv’s games while she went here, but I really do fucking love this place. I start walking, down a hall, then another one, letting my eyes wander through the windows of all the classroom doors and over the walls lined with framed photographs of prestigious alumni. There’s something about being in a school I didn’t get until a couple of years ago. The books full of words and ideas, the computers with their programs and fast technology, the desks with their journals, the lockers with their secrets and stolen items and the occasional hidden flask…Everything here is so personal. More so even than in a home, because we don’t hide our shame close to those who love us. We hide our needles in haystacks. A lot has happened in this place, and I’d love to hear these fuckin’ walls talk more than the walls in any house.
I walk along the atrium, which is located at the center of the school and filled with trees, flowers, and palms swaying in the fresh air carrying in from the open roof high above. The red tiles under me have been swept of their usual petals and leaves; the gothic arches and columns around the square courtyard seem to move with the shadows of the clouds floating over the moon.
Heading straight, toward the stairs, I grab the banister and twist my head left. Four figures loom at the next corner of the atrium.
My heart thumps in my chest, and I pause, staring at their dark forms. Although I can’t make out their faces or even determine the color of their suits, they’ve noticed me and are now intent on my direction.
I drift my eyes over each man, seeing one holding his hand to his mouth like he’s working a toothpick, one tapping a cigarette, another just standing there, and one facing straight toward me, hands in his pockets.
I have no idea who they are, but if there’s one thing you learn, growing up in the Bay, it’s that men whose shoes shine like that are used to being just about anywhere they want. Even if the shoes are fucking ugly.
I leave it alone. Leaping up to the steps, I take them two at a time, climbing to the second floor. Heading through the open door to room 244, I leave the lights off and walk to my desk. I don’t turn on my computer. I don’t play music. I just open a drawer and pluck my phone out of my pocket, dropping it inside. Closing it, I plant my fists on the desktop and bow my head, letting out a long breath.
Four years ago, my oldest brother fell in love and after that our lives were never the same. The Jaegers finally started having conversations, because until we could figure out a way to make the Bay too valuable for St. Carmen to take away from us, we’d have to make ourselves valuable instead.
Macon’s instructions were clear. Go on the offense. We would strategically place ourselves in positions of influence around St. Carmen.
One of us would be a cop. One in city council. One, a teacher, and one in real estate.
Another would control liquor distribution, and another would put Sanoa Bay on the social media map. You know, just in case we need to amplify threats to our community.
And then one…
I shake my head, unable to hold back the smile.
Well, one would be a…
Fuck, I can’t even say it out loud, it’s so ridiculous.
So, yeah, that covered just about everyone. Five brothers, one sister, one wife, and Clay, my sister’s girlfriend—fiancée—would bury the dead. Another indispensable position in a community. She studied mortuary science.
I thought for sure I’d be the cop or the one controlling the alcohol, but Army’s incessant search for a Saint to mother his five-year-old son prompted Macon to think he wasn’t the best one to be around a staff of largely female St. Carmen teachers. And Trace and Liv weren’t giving up their dreams, and I didn’t have any, so…
At twenty-five, it does feel good to have a career, though. My siblings range in age from thirty-five to twenty-two, and every single fucking one of us lives in the home our ancestors built over in the Bay. It’s nice to have this space to myself and be the king of this particular castle.