“I’m open to suggestions.”
“With your coloring, I think something silvery would make those eyes of yours stand out like wow.”
“Do it.”
Several hours later, I emerged into the setting sun with silver hair that made my pale skin and green eyes even more stark.
Purely by coincidence, Damon’s dinner break happened to be the same instant he was done with my hair. At my request, he took me to the smoke shop a few doors down and bought four cartons of Djarum Black clove cigarettes and a silver flask with my credit card, then a bottle of my favorite vodka from the liquor shop next door.
In a small alley behind the Square, we laughed as the vodka spilled over my fingers while pouring it into my brand-new flask. Damon went in for a kiss. Or what I guessed was a kiss—his tongue was apparently trying to get to my asshole via my mouth. He rubbed against me, instantly horny and out of breath.
“You are so fucking hot,” he breathed into my neck. “How old are you? Nineteen? Twenty?”
I smiled sweetly. “Seventeen.”
Damon reared back, his eyes wide. “The hell…? Are you trying to get me arrested?”
I held up the bag of smokes and booze. “Thanks for your help. And for the hair. Looks fab. Five big ones on Yelp.”
“Asshole,” Damon sniffed and strode away.
I met my aunt and uncle at a Starbucks. They were both obviously out of patience with me and yet too chickenshit to do anything about it.
“My, your hair looks…nice,” Mags said.
“Very modern,” Reginald added.
“Thanks.” I took a shot from my flask, capped it, and put it back in my coat. “Shall we?”
Reginald shot to his feet. “Yes, indeed. Let’s go home.”
Home.
I wasn’t familiar with the concept. As a kid, home had been a cold, loveless museum—everything was very beautiful, very expensive, and you only saw someone who lived there when you touched something you weren’t supposed to.
Then Alaska happened and obliterated any idea or concept I’d had of home and family.
Mags and Reginald were stand-ins. Actors called up to perform the role. Once I graduated high school, they’d be released from their contracts with a sigh of relief that it was over. I’d come into an inheritance that was larger than the economies of several small nations, and we’d go our separate ways, never to interact again. Why would we?
I’d take my money and run. I’d travel all over the world, go anywhere at any time, and stay only as long as I wanted. Never again would I allow anyone to imprison me or lock me up. I’d be free.
Or maybe I’d just disappear.
Part I
Chapter One
August
I crouched behind Chance Blaylock with my hands under his thighs, taking in my team’s defensive line-up, reading their coverage, finding their weaknesses.
“Hut one, hut two… Hut!”
Chance hiked the ball into my hands and then hurled himself at a defender who was intent on taking me down. At scrimmages, we wore flags tucked into our waistbands, but our D was bloodthirsty, even when it was their own quarterback in their sights. I wasn’t in real danger; our O-line was the best in the league. Moreover, any teammate who tackled me would face swift retribution.
I dropped back to pass, scanning the field, calculating angles, probabilities, distance. Coach Kimball had called the play and I was going to run it, but that didn’t stop me from exploring options that unfolded on the field in real time—one of the many tools in my arsenal Coach said was going to take me all the way to the NFL.
Donte Weatherly, our fastest wideout, was already halfway down the right sideline with our safety on his ass. At the thirty-yard line, he’d cut left. I smoothly side-stepped a defender that came at me from my peripheral and cocked my arm to pass. In fractions of a second, I visualized the arc of the ball, putting it n