Getting Lucky Number Seven (4 page)

I bit my lip. “Is Colin going to be there?”

“Yeah. What happened with him the other night, anyway?”

I was too embarrassed to relay what the guy had said about me, especially to the flawlessly put together girl who wore outfits Barbie would be proud to rock and looked like she belonged in a sorority house. Since Kristen was in one, I was surprised Whitney wasn’t, actually. “I just don’t think he and I are a good fit. I’m going to pass tonight, but I swear I’m going to go out more.” Just not anywhere Colin was. There was bold, and then there was putting myself in a situation that’d destroy my limited confidence. That was the last thing I needed if I was going to go to a party in a couple of days.

Whitney leaned her hip against my doorframe, crossing one ankle over the other. “You know you can hang out with me and Kristen anytime you want, right? It makes me sad to think of you all by yourself studying while we’re out.”

That made me feel a bit like her pity project—she was a nice girl, her heart in the right place, but we didn’t have much in common. I’d met her through the roommate finder search on the Boston College housing site. She’d fit the two requirements I needed most. 1) She didn’t mind a cat, and 2) The rent she’d listed for the apartment was in my price range. Five months of living together and I still didn’t know much about her besides she went out a lot, and liked guys, and that the feeling was mutual. She could probably teach me a lot about confidence and flirting, but again, if I had to deal with Colin on outings, it wasn’t worth it.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got Einstein to keep me company tonight.” I patted his head and he snuggled his nose deeper into my sweater. “And like I said, I have plans this weekend—Beck and I are going to a party.”

“Beck. Good choice.” Whitney got a dreamy look on her face, no doubt picturing him now. He’d only been here a handful of times, mostly to pick me up—he was allergic to Einstein, so he could never stay long. But that was all it took for my roommate to crush on him. As soon as I suspected he might not be totally uninterested in Whitney’s come-ons, I’d asked him if he could please refrain from sleeping with her. I didn’t need the extra drama, and he had a ton of other options, so I didn’t think it was an unfair request.

But the way Whitney said his name made me wonder if I was being unfair to her.
No, I’m saving her the hump and dump treatment. Plus she’s been with what’s-his-face a lot over the past few weeks, and even if that doesn’t work out, it’s not like she’s ever had any shortage of male attention.

And maybe, just maybe, there was a part of me that wanted Beck to myself. Not the way she wanted him, but the part I could have. He was my friend—the person I relied on out here in Boston—and if he was suddenly more interested in sleeping with my roommate than hanging out with me, it’d crush me. Especially if she became the one he decided to stick with for a while.

I didn’t want to evaluate what exactly that said about me.

“Well, see you later, then,” Whitney said. Since Beck was on my mind now, I sent him a quick text checking in.

Me:
Thanks again for everything. I hope that you know I’m always here for you, whatever you need.

After about a minute, I received a text back.

Beck:
I know

A few seconds later, a smiley face came through, and I had to laugh. A week or so ago, I’d told him that his texts were always so short and blunt. “Couldn’t you add a smiley face or something?” I’d asked.

He actually listened!
A smug sense of victory swirled through me. He could be so stubborn about things that I could hardly believe it, even as the emoticon smiled up at me.

After debating just leaving it alone, I couldn’t help myself. I went ahead and sent him back a winky smiley face with a nose. Excitement over our upcoming weekend plans sent sparks of energy dancing across my skin. A party. With Beck. The potential and hope morphed into an all-consuming anticipation that promised this weekend would be the one to change everything.

Chapter Six

Beck

I shook my head but couldn’t help smiling about as big as the face Lyla had sent me. It’d been a long, crappy day, what with having to drive over an hour to pick up my little felon sister in New Hampshire. She’d talked to me on the phone like everything was cool, and then added, “So, uh, I’m sorta in jail right now, and I need you to bail me out.”

Ever since our parents died, Megan had decided the best thing to do was get into trouble all the time and make my aunt question why she ever agreed to custody. This time it was shoplifting, which was just beyond dumb. The girl had plenty of money and a large trust fund coming to her when she turned eighteen in two years. Not to mention everything she could ever ask for at her fingertips. But she craved adventure.

Of course that made me think of Lyla and her list. I told myself her thing was harmless, but how did one go from straight A student to total mess? Apparently my sister was hell-bent on finding out.

Aunt Tessa was still yelling, but she was starting to lose her voice, so the lecture would be wrapping up soon. Megan sat on the couch, a sullen and not nearly repentant-enough expression in place. I leaned against the archway of the living room, waiting for the grand finale.

“…just don’t know what to do with you anymore. You’re grounded. And we’re talking no car, no phone, no TV, no going
anywhere
, grounded.” Aunt Tessa stormed past me, shaking her head and muttering under her breath.

Megan threw her head back and gave a half-growl, half-sigh. Then she turned the pale blue eyes both she and I got from Mom on me. “Can I
please
come live with you?”

“What do you think?”

“Come on, I’d be good.” She batted her eyes. “And you’ve got an extra bedroom.”

I crossed the room and sat next to her on what she and I referred to as the “floral headache” couch. Aunt Tessa was so proud that it’d come from France, despite the fact that it was overly floral, so silky it practically kicked you off when you sat down, and had unforgiving trim across the top that would jab you in the skull if you tried to sit back too far. “You can’t act like this, Megan. And I don’t have time to keep driving up.”

Her shoulders slumped, every ounce of her fiery energy draining out of her. “It’s not fair. You got to escape. You don’t have to drive past the old house, or deal with people constantly asking how you’re adjusting. Or spreading rumors. At least now I’ve given them something else to talk about.”

I rubbed my forehead, trying to come up with something to say to that. People talking about her getting arrested was the
last
thing our family needed. “I thought things would’ve calmed down by now.”

“Not now that everyone knows Mom was screwing Mr. Brooks—I don’t know how it got out. Not that it really matters. It’s out there, so if it’s not pity, it’s snide remarks about her affair.”

And the bombs just kept dropping and blowing up in my face. I couldn’t say I didn’t understand the need to escape, because it was what I’d done. What I’d wanted to do since I was fifteen and found out about my mom’s affair.

“Mr. Brooks is old news,” I said. “The people around here are just bored gossips reaching for scraps because they have nothing else to do. It’ll fade.”

“Whatever. It all blows and I’m over it.” Megan stood and ran her fake nails through her perfectly highlighted hair. A year ago, she was so sweet, and now she looked like the mean girls who used to pick on her. I hated it, but the one time I’d brought it up, she’d cried and told me life was harder for girls and I just didn’t get it, so I was never going there again. “Thanks for bailing me out. Just go back to college and forget about me.”

I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t realize you were taking drama classes this semester.”

“I’m not—hey.” She shoved me, but then she smiled, a hint of how things used to be breaking through. “You’re right.
You
don’t deserve the hate.” She threw her arms around me. “I’m going to go crazy here, Beckett. Are you sure you can’t take me with you?”

Yeah, the last thing I needed was to worry about my sixteen-year-old sister surrounded by college boys, getting into even more trouble. She hadn’t been nearly this upset when I’d left for freshman year. Of course, then, she hadn’t had to deal with life without Mom and Dad. “I’m sorry, but you know that’d never work. Just ignore the rumors and try to keep yourself out of trouble. Before long, you’ll be the one in college, and none of this gossip will matter anymore. And if you need me, you know I’m only a phone call away.”

“I know.” She tightened the hug. “Love ya, big brother.”

I ruffled her hair. “Love you, too. But if you steal something again, I’m leaving your ass in jail.”

…

Megan was right. There was something about driving past the old house, its large Victorian columns and sprawling lawn behind the wrought iron gate with the gilded D in the middle, that made everything inside me go cold. The money alone would’ve made people talk, but being part of one of the most influential families in the upper class suburb of Concord wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Just mentioning the last name Davenport meant people automatically treated you better, but they also watched every move and gossiped about every misstep. I wasn’t going to say the perks hadn’t been nice most of the time, but living under the microscope nonstop wasn’t easy.

I knew it’d created quite the scandal when Dad, the heir to the Davenport company and the fortune that came with it, married a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. As little kids, Megan and I had repeatedly heard the story from Mom about how, despite the odds, love conquered all.

But when I’d walked in on Mom and one of Dad’s financial advisers in a compromising position—mostly clothed, thank the Lord, but still—I’d realized love wasn’t as powerful as I’d once thought. Not to mention the whole scarred-for-life thing. Even worse, Mom continued to act completely in love with Dad, not a single slipup. Every time she’d call to say she had meetings for her various charities, I wondered if she was lying. It was such a relief when I found out she’d told Dad about the affair. Harboring a secret from the guy I’d admired most in the world had eaten away at me.

They’d gone to counseling to repair their marriage, and there at the end, everything seemed to be working. They’d still had their problems, but they always put on a united front. I’d hoped it was because things were okay, but maybe it was just for the sake of the company.

She swore she’d ended it. Surely it hadn’t still been going on.

Whether it was old news that’d surfaced, or if Mom had slipped off the fidelity wagon, it was out there for the entire town to discuss and analyze now. As if losing both parents in one fell swoop wasn’t a hard enough blow for our family and hadn’t caused enough talk. It was why I loved my anonymity at college—I’d decided to leave my showier, chromed-out Escalade in favor of the older Land Rover, and with the exception of having my own apartment, I worked to hide the fact that I had money.

Not just money, I had responsibility that’d only get worse in less than a year. Control of the company was due to transfer to me on my twenty-first birthday, because apparently that was old enough to suddenly be in charge of a large pharmaceutical company that employed thousands of people.

No pressure.

Dad had always pushed me toward the sciences, and I liked them well enough, but I’d need a stronger business base to successfully run the company. Dad loved the company as much as his father had, and his father before that. It was in our blood, he used to say. After my first year at college, he took me aside and told me I needed to take more serious classes to get ready for a future position at D&T Pharmaceuticals. Neither of us had known at the time just how soon that’d need to happen.

Mom always reassured me I didn’t have to go into the family company if I didn’t want to—that she’d still be proud, as long as I didn’t turn into a spoiled rich jerk. When I’d wanted to play hockey over polo—which was the norm for the sons in my parents’ circle of friends—she’d helped me talk Dad into letting me go out for the rougher sport.

Hockey was one thing, but she’d known as well as I had that Dad would’ve been disappointed if I decided to take another career path. The people at the company were going to expect me to do something to pull my weight and keep getting paid, and with Megan relying on me, too, I wondered if I should quit the hockey team and focus on getting through college faster.

Just the thought of no hockey made everything I tried to keep at bay press in on me. There were a few weeks at the beginning of summer that I barely remembered, just a blur of grief and crying and the funeral, and thinking my parents being gone had to be a bad dream. There were still bad days here and there, but once I’d gotten back to Boston, it felt like I could breathe again, and a big part of that was getting on the ice.

Four colleges had given me the red-carpet treatment, but Boston College had one of the best hockey programs in the nation, and it was the entire reason I’d chosen to go there. The location—close enough to go home when I needed to and also near where the Bruins played—was just icing on the cake.

Scouts from the Bruins occasionally attended the BC games, and would of course be at playoff games, and my main focus for the past year and a half had been getting good enough for them to notice me before I graduated. I’d hoped getting drafted would give me a chance to delay working with Dad for a few more years and play for the NHL. A long shot, but it was what I’d dreamed about ever since the first time I gripped a hockey stick.

I needed to face the fact that that dream was gone now and shift my focus to taking over the family business and running the company in a way that would’ve made Dad proud. To making sure Megan had the stable future she was obviously craving.

For the rest of the season I’d give hockey everything I had and go out as high as possible—NCAA championship would be the ultimate way to achieve that, and our team had a good shot at the title. Then, when the season ended—no doubt it’d feel way too soon when it came—I’d trade my hockey stick and skates for suits and ties and at least have the glory days to relive when I was bored out of my mind.

Sorrow rose up, and I accelerated out of town, wanting to put this place behind me while I could.

Let’s see, what day is it?

Wednesday.
That meant hockey and classes to keep me busy the next few days, then the party with Lyla. Followed by our low-key Sunday movie night—that was the part of the week I was most looking forward to. Those were the nights I was just a regular guy hanging out with a not-so-regular girl, with little to no effort required to keep the depressing thoughts constantly spinning through my head at bay.