The Billionaire's Allure (The Silver Cross Club Book 5) (12 page)

Max grinned. “Those words are music to my ears.”

CHAPTER NINE

Max

The first time I ever kissed Beth, we were hanging out in Washington Square Park with Renzo, trying to charm some of the NYU hippies into sharing their weed with us. Most of the time they wouldn’t—they could be weirdly antagonistic toward the street kids—but sometimes one of them would take a liking to us and give us a few hits. I didn’t have any particular desire to smoke weed, but Renzo enjoyed it, and Beth and I were willing to go along for the ride.

It was early October, a few weeks after I had met Beth outside of the shelter, and a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon. The trees in the square were beginning to turn colors, orange and red and pale gold, and it worried me. I knew it would be getting cold soon. Sleeping outside was no trouble during the warm months, but winter in New York was no joke. We would be freezing our asses off in no time.

Beth and I sat side by side on the edge of the fountain, watching Renzo try to chat up a dreadlocked white woman holding a joint in one hand and tapping a drum with the other. The girl was smiling at him, seemingly amused, but the man with her—probably her boyfriend—was glaring at Renzo in a way that screamed trouble. I might have to go extricate him soon.

“Do you think it’s going to work?” Beth asked, nudging me with her shoulder.

“No way,” I said. “If the girl gives him any of her weed, the boy is going to shut down the whole operation and maybe tell the cops that Renzo tried to pickpocket him or something. That’s a bad scene. We’ll give him another minute, though.”

“Renzo hates being rescued,” Beth said knowingly.

I snorted. “He shouldn’t do so much dumb shit, then.”

“You both think you’re invincible, and you definitely aren’t,” she said. “That day trader type almost nabbed you yesterday when you tried to lift his wallet.”

I grinned. “No way. That’s different. He didn’t have a clue.”

“He was looking around and patting his pockets,” she said. “He knew
something
was up. You’re going to get caught one of these days.”

I probably was, but I wasn’t concerned about it. The worst that could happen was someone would call my parents, and my dad would show up at the police station, full of sound and fury. Which would be pretty fucking terrible, but not nearly as bad as going to actual jail.

I knew I wouldn’t go to jail. I was a Langdon, and money talked.

Unfair? Of course it wasn’t fair. Nothing in life was.

Beth leaned against me and rested her head on my shoulder. My heart jumped. I was already a goner, even then. She was quiet, intense, and fiercely self-sufficient, and every time she let her guard down around me, I felt like Superman. “I’m tired,” she said.

“Didn’t sleep well?” I asked.

She shook her head, her skull rocking back and forth against my shoulder. “I don’t know why. I was just lying awake thinking about stuff. There was an owl that kept hooting, and I was trying to decide where it was. I don’t know. It was stupid.”

Greatly daring, I settled one hand on her lower back. She didn’t move away. I was Hannibal, crossing the Alps. I was Alexander the Great. “That doesn’t sound stupid. The first time I slept in the park—okay, don’t tell Renzo this story.”

She looked up at me, grinning. “Really? Okay. I promise.”

“There was some drunk hobo camped out near me,” I said. “He was sort of yelling some things before he finally passed out. And I lay there all night convinced that he would wake up, stumble over to where I was sleeping, and—I don’t know. Murder me in the dark, I guess.”

She laughed. “I guess he didn’t.”

“No, it was just Terrence,” I said. “I didn’t know him at the time, though. So now I’m a little embarrassed every time I see him, like somehow he’ll figure out that I thought he was going to kill me.”

“Poor Terrence,” she said.

Terrance was mentally ill—schizophrenia, probably—and he lived in Central Park and collected scrap metal for cash. All of the street kids knew him. He would share cigarettes with us, and let us know if the cops were doing a sweep through the park. Harmless. A nice guy. And I had been terrified. “Yeah, Renzo would laugh himself sick if he knew,” I said. “That was just a few days before I met him. I was still pretty green.”

“Like a fresh sapling,” she said. “Sweet. Do you bend or break?”

“I hope I bend,” I said. “I think I have so far.”

She looked at me again, serious now, her eyes so deep a brown they were nearly black. “Of course you bend,” she said. “You’re Max.”

Her utter faith in me broke my heart. She looked at me like I was a man instead of a terrified boy, and I wanted to become that man for her, strong and brave. I turned toward her, dislodging her from my shoulder, and she sat up, frowning a little, an adorable line between her eyebrows. “Max—”

I kissed her. I didn’t think about it beforehand, or plan my attack. I just did it. I cupped her jaw in one hand and leaned in and pressed my mouth to hers, clumsy, the angle a little off. None of that mattered. I was doing it—I was kissing her, this incredible girl, who I wanted to impress more than I wanted anything else in life.

She made a small, sweet noise in the back of her throat and leaned into me, accepting my kiss and asking for more. One of her little hands caught at the front of my shirt and fisted there, clinging to me, asking me to stay. I stayed. We kissed slowly, cautious, a little awkward, our lips dry. It wasn’t my first kiss—there had been a few girls at parties, shoved in a closet together and giggling—but it was the first one that mattered. I wanted to do it right.

I was so absorbed in kissing her that I completely forgot that we were in public until I heard Renzo’s voice saying, “Wow, disgusting.”

Beth immediately pulled away, bringing her hand to her mouth, her cheeks darkening.

I sighed. “Renzo…”

“No, I get it,” he said. He was grinning hugely. “I’d better find my own culvert, huh?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Beth said, very prim, the way she got when she was embarrassed. “We weren’t—we were just…”

“Yeah, I know exactly what you were doing,” Renzo said. “That’s okay. I’m fine with being the third wheel.”

I sighed again. “You aren’t the third wheel, Renzo.”

“Whatever,” he said. “I won’t make it weird. Look, that girl says we can go back to her dorm room and smoke up with her. Cool, right?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said. “Her boyfriend isn’t too happy with you hanging around.”

“Fuck him,” Renzo said blithely. “He’s not in charge. I’m going, so you can come with me or keep sucking face. Whatever.”

Beth and I exchanged glances. Letting Renzo go alone wasn’t an option.

“We’ll go with you,” Beth said, and that was how we ended the day being kicked out of an NYU dorm by a couple of bored security guards who told us—not in so many words—to never darken their doorstep again.

On the subway on the way back to the park, Beth tucked her hand into one of my jacket pockets, our fingers brushing together, and the giddy sway of my stomach had far more to do with her touch than with the motion of the train.

That was the start of it. I was in love with her: stupidly, foolishly, unrealistically, head-over-heels puppy love infatuated. I was canny enough to play it cool and keep my mouth shut, but every time I saw her my heart jumped in my chest, and whenever we were apart, I thought of nothing but her until we were reunited. I fell asleep every night to the sound of her soft breathing a few feet away, and dreamed of her until morning. Her every look was a blow to my solar plexus, and when she touched me, my skin sparked with desire. I was a walking hard-on, and I spent a lot of time jerking off in bushes and the bathrooms of fast food restaurants. Being around her was agonizing. Kissing her was sheer torture. But I was a glutton for punishment, and I kept going back for more.

Renzo watched us, frowning to himself, for about a week. I knew I was in for an unpleasant conversation. He waited until Beth was off at the shelter taking a shower, and then he cornered me in camp and said, “So, this thing with you and Bee.”

I was washing a shirt in a bucket of soapy water, but I set it aside and sat back on my heels, looking up at him, my hands dripping water onto the ground. “What about it? You’ve obviously got something you want to say, so just spill it.”

He rolled his eyes at me, like I was being totally unreasonable. “Fine. It’s cute, and you both seem really happy, so that’s good, but I’m not sure it’s a great idea. What happens if you break up? I don’t want things to get weird. I like hanging out with both of you, and I don’t want to go back to camping by myself or sleeping at the shelter.”

“That’s pretty selfish of you,” I said, because I was a teenager and therefore horrible.

He snorted. “
You’re
selfish. We’re family now, and you’re ready to toss that out because Bee’s pretty and you like kissing her. Look, I’ll stay out of it, but just think about what you’re doing. It could end badly.”

I scowled at him and went back to scrubbing my shirt. I thought he was being completely unreasonable. I was in love, and that trumped
everything
, surely. “It isn’t going to end.”

“Fine,” he said, holding his hands up in defeat. “Whatever you say, bro. I hope the two of you get married and have a bunch of fat babies.”

“Maybe we will,” I snapped, and we spent the rest of the afternoon ignoring each other in sullen silence.

When Beth got back to camp, she looked back and forth between the two of us, planted her hands on her hips, and said, “Renzo, let’s go for a walk.”

He gave her a narrow look, like he was thinking about refusing, but then he shrugged and hauled himself to his feet, and they went off through the underbrush and out of sight.

Alone, feeling persecuted, I dug at the ground with a stick.

They were both smiling when they came back, talking about something they had seen on their walk, and Renzo was back to normal after that. Beth told me later that she had assured him that there wouldn’t be any drama if we broke up. I didn’t necessarily agree—I couldn’t see myself letting her go without a prolonged and earnest struggle—but as long as Renzo was content, I would keep my mouth shut.

The weather got cold, and we spent a frigid week shivering in our culvert; but then it warmed up again, a brief and wonderful Indian summer, and I decided that we needed to take advantage of it before winter set in for good.

I floated my idea to Beth and Renzo one morning while we were panhandling near the subway station, all three of us squatting against a brick wall and trying to look as grubby and pathetic as possible. “Let’s break into the zoo one night. I want to see the animals before it gets too cold.”

Renzo squinted at me. “Why would we do that?”

“Because zoos are awesome,” I said. “Haven’t you ever been?”

“No,” he said. “Why would I? If I want to see some lions, I can just watch the Discovery Channel.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not the same. When you see them up close, in person—it’s totally different.”

“I’d like to go,” Beth said, her soft voice interrupting our good-natured bickering. “As long as we go to the Bronx Zoo. My grandmother used to take me there sometimes. I really liked it. But we should go during the day and pay money. Breaking in is a bad idea.”

“Where’s your spirit of adventure?” I asked, scooting closer to her and slinging one arm across her shoulders. “We won’t get caught. They probably have, like, one really elderly guard who goes around and is so deaf that he can’t hear anything. It’ll be awesome. We’ll have the whole place to ourselves. We can climb over the railing and ride a giraffe—”

“You’re an idiot,” she said, laughing.

A passing woman gave us a disapproving look: mouth pursed, eyebrows arched. I flipped her off.

“Hey,” Renzo said. “She might have given us some money.”

“No way,” I said. “We’re laughing. Homeless people aren’t supposed to laugh. We’re supposed to be bogged down in misery.”

“I am,” Renzo said. “My ass is cold. Let’s go buy some coffee.”

“We need another ten dollars,” I said. “You’re the one who set the quota for today. You don’t get to go back on it now.”

“Boys,” Beth chided. “Let’s focus. The zoo?”

I wore them both down in the end, but it took several nights of recon work, lying in the underbrush outside the zoo and watching the security guards as they went on their rounds. I took careful notes and had their schedule all worked out, and finally I was able to convince Beth that we wouldn’t get caught, and convince Renzo that even if the animals were boring, breaking into the zoo would provide good bragging material. Renzo was very concerned with his reputation, and the thought of gloating to the other street kids about his daring exploits was what finally won him over. Beth, good girl that she was, just wanted to make sure she wouldn’t end up in jail.

Thankfully, the weather held. On the appointed night, we took the train into the Bronx and loitered outside the entrance until I decided it was safe. Then we hopped the fence and made our way into the zoo.