Part 4

North

After school, Axl sped out of the parking lot as North leaned against his car. He was waiting for Aspen before he’d take the long way home. He always dreaded going home. Their mansion was tucked away from the street, the last house on the block, and by far the biggest as well.

The gates stood like silent sentries at the end of the long, winding drive, separating their world from everyone else’s with iron and money and carefully trimmed hedges.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Aspen said, and wrapped her arms around him.

“I’d hardly call two minutes as being late,” he said.

“My dad has a meeting with your dad next weekend. Do you think you’ll see him?”

North shook his head. “Your dad will probably fly up to meet with him. You know he can’t be bothered to come to Esperton.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“Don’t be. I’m so used to not seeing him, and I might not even recognize him when I do.”

The words came out lighter than they felt, practiced into something that almost passed for indifference.

Aspen sighed and tightened her arms around him. “Are you guys practicing tonight?”

“Nah, Axl has to train. We’ll practice on Friday night and Sunday. He has a fight coming up on Saturday night,” North said.

“Can I invite Merit?”

North grimaced. “I don’t know, Aspen. She might be like the other girls you tried to befriend.”

“She’s not. When I met her, I asked if her name was Merit Rossini Cathwell, and the look she gave me was one of disgust. She told me Jackson was a douche without me saying anything. I think she might be different.”

“Fine, if she can survive fight night, she might just fit in with us,” North said.

Anyone who could stomach their world without flinching earned a quiet kind of respect.

“Thank you,” she squealed, and kissed him on the cheek. “I have to get home before my mom sends the cops out looking for me.”

“That’ll teach you to sneak out,” he said, with a chuckle.

A year earlier, Aspen had snuck out with a girl, Brittany, to go to a music concert. Her friendship with Brittany hadn’t lasted long, especially not when Brittany thought she could replace Aspen to be by his side. People always learned their limits eventually.

He drove behind Aspen toward uptown Esperton, and finally turned off and headed to his own house. They had two full-time maids, a housekeeper, a cook, and two gardeners. The house was never really empty during the day, but it was the nights he dreaded. Too much space made every sound echo longer than it should.

“Hey, Millie,” North said, as he walked into the house.

“Good afternoon, Master North,” she said. She was in her fifties, with a tight bun and the plain, black uniform his mother insisted they wear.

“Is my mom home?”

“She left an hour ago for her weekly hair appointment,” she said.

Millie was their housekeeper. She ran the house like a captain would his ship. She was in charge of everyone who worked there and made sure the kitchen was stocked, the house cleaned, and organized for whichever function his mother wanted to hold next. She was also his mother’s personal assistant, and he’d never seen the woman smile. Her efficiency hadn’t replaced the warmth that managed to still linger there.

“Okay.”

North headed to the kitchen and smiled when he saw Francine stirring something on the stove. She had been their cook for as long as he could remember. She was warm, always smiling, and she was the one person who made sure there were always snacks for him and Axl when they practiced.

“Hey, Francine, it smells delicious,” North said, as he peered over her shoulder.

“Your mother ordered Greek food for dinner,” she said, and pushed him away with her hip. “There are biscuits in the tin if you’re hungry now.”

North grabbed the tin and ran out of the kitchen, as Francine started chastising him to only take a few, and headed upstairs to his room. His room consisted of an entire wing, which included his own cinema room, study, and bedroom quarters.

He hated the big house. It was just him and his mother who lived there. They didn’t need twelve bedrooms, and the opulence left a sour taste in his mouth. It was all about flaunting their wealth, showcasing that they were better than everyone else.

In the safety of his bedroom, he put his phone on charge and got started on his homework. His mother would ask, and it wasn’t like he had anything else to do, whereas Aspen had to watch her two sisters; her father insisted she be home in the afternoons for that very reason. However, she stayed over at his house every single weekend. Aspen’s laughter filled his weekends with something that felt dangerously close to normal.

His father didn’t care what he did, as long as he kept out of trouble and didn’t tarnish their good name, he could come and go as he pleased. His life had already been pre-planned. After high school, he’d go to an Ivy League school and get his business degree or law degree, preferably both. He’d marry a girl from good stock, meaning she’d be from an elite family as well. He’d take over his father’s business after working under him for a good many years, while popping out little St. John boys and girls to carry on their line. A future scripted in boardrooms and bloodlines, leaving very little space for choice.

“How was your first day of school?”

His mother looked the same as always, dressed up nicely, eyes a little bleary from having already finished two bottles of wine, her hair a little shinier.

“It was good. I met Mr. Cathwell’s new stepdaughter at school.”

His mother quirked a brow. “Oh? I heard her mother’s quite the hussy. Is this girl going to bring down their family name?”

North grinned and swallowed his food. “She might just raise the bar a little.”

“And Aspen? How is she?”

“She’s good, Mom,” he said, and watched as she emptied another glass. He counted each pour without meaning to, the slow slide toward a night he already knew by heart.

It would only be a matter of time until he would have to carry her upstairs to her bedroom, take off her shoes, and tuck her into bed with the wastebasket close to her bed, just in case, with a glass of water and some Advil on the nightstand for when she woke up. It was a nightly routine, except for the weekends; then he'd pick her up from the floor wherever she had passed out and do the same routine.

He still loved her, though. She wasn’t a bad person; the only bad thing she did was marry his father. It wasn’t her fault.