8. Josh

It takes two days for me to be deemed worthy enough to be granted a meeting with the elusive Mr. Lincoln Blackwell. A man known for his reputation more than anything else, which is how I find myself skipping my classes on Friday afternoon and heading to Black Hallows to see him. Black Hallows is a wonder of a town. It was built on power and old money, with a clear wealth divide right down the middle that still remains to this day. Considering it resides right next to Fairfield, it’s not a place I visit often, especially given my father”s disdain for it, but now with the hope of taking him down, I can’t seem to get there quick enough.

The office that Mr. Blackwell works for is on the North Side of town, the side that houses the wealthy and elite, and it looks every bit like the uptown security office I imagined it to be. When I asked around for someone who could do some discreet digging, the name of this firm was the top contender, along with the name of Mr. Blackwell himself. He was described as smart, cunning, capable, yet completely ruthless. So imagine my surprise when I am ushered to an office by a secretary, only to be greeted with a face as young as mine.

“Thank you, Eliza,” the man, no, the boy before me, says, gesturing to a seat in front of his desk as he adds, “Take a seat Mr. Peters.”

I look around confused, as the secretary, Eliza, nods at him with a smile, closing his door and leaving us alone. I look back to him in wonder, before I clear my throat and say, “I’m here for a meeting with Lincoln Blackwell.” The guy before me can’t be any older than twenty years, and my words cause the corner of his mouth to tip up in what I imagine is his version of a smirk.

“I’m aware of what you are here for, Joshua Peters, first and only son of Hugo and Louise Peters, the former being the well respected Mayor of Fairfield, and I use the word respected ironically,” he muses, watching me closely as if his stare alone can seep into my soul. “You attend Fairfield University alongside your younger sister, Madeline. You play for FU’s hockey team, and word through the grapevine is that you want to play for the NHL, despite the fact your father wants you to follow his footsteps into politics.”

Okay so the guy knows his shit, big fucking deal. I still try not to let the surprise show on my face as I reply blandly, “Is that your way of telling me you are Lincoln Blackwell?”

His smirk only grows. “You may call me Lincoln.” He opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a brown file, tossing it on the desk between us. “I took the liberty of digging up some surface level stuff on your father,” he shrugs, as I reach out and take the file, flicking through it until my eyes widen at the tidbits of information he has already found. “But it won’t be enough to take him down, not with friends in the right places and pockets as deep as his.”

All I can do is stare at the information in disbelief as he talks, both impressed at him knowing what I came for, and annoyed that he was able to work it out so easily. There is stuff in here that dates back to before I was even born. Hell, there is a copy of my damn birth certificate, and Maddie’s, yet none of it is enough to truly do enough damage. Not the level I require anyway.

I flick my gaze back to him, and he is watching me closely, his face giving away nothing, his eyes telling me I shouldn’t question this, yet still I do. “I never said I was here to take down my father,” I state matter-of-factly, and he rolls his eyes in a way that reminds me of Hallie.

“Josh, I’m sure you’ve heard the stories they tell about this town, the nightmares that happened here, and the tales of the Mayor and his friends who used to reign over it.” There is no smirk on his face now, in fact I am starting to see why they call him ruthless, he looks nothing like a kid anymore. No, now he looks like a man who has seen far more horrors than I could ever imagine. And he’s right of course, I have heard the nightmares of this town, and all about the men who used to run it. The rumors about it are rampant all over the state, yet no one really knows the truth, but looking into the sharp green eyes that currently watch me, I know he does. I know he’s seen it all and didn’t even blink. “Well they’re all gone, and I’m still here. Do you know why that is?”

The question throws me a little, especially considering I am recalling all the news reports about what allegedly happened in this town. So I”m not sure what he’s getting at, but given the manner of his office and the place it resides, I don’t really think too much when I respond, “Money?”

There goes that eye roll again, as he scoffs, “No, power.” He says the word like it”s beneath him, like he doesn’t really believe in it, or maybe has other meanings for it.

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Same thing,” I toss back, knowing that all the privileges I’ve known in life have come from both money and power.

“No, they’re not, and thinking so is a mistake, one you should learn from if you want to take back the power from your father.” I blink back as he stands from his desk and moves around it to sit on the edge right in front of me. “I know about the marriage deal you foiled between your sister and Bradley Thorne, and I also know about the one you are about to make yourself, so please let’s not waste each other”s time.”

We stare at one another until I finally relent, thinking about my words carefully before I say them. “If I were here to take down my father, how might I do that?”

His smirk returns, as if he knew exactly what I was going to say and he was the one to get me to say it. I imagine he could get anyone to do anything for him if I’m being honest, and that’s only confirmed when he replies, “You’ll be busy with your wedding tomorrow, but after that you need to find your father’s weakness.”

I ignore the fact that he knows I am getting married tomorrow when I have told no one, and focus on what else he said. “My father doesn’t have a weakness.”

“Everybody has a weakness, Josh, you just need to find it.” He rises back to his feet and moves towards a locker in the corner. He puts in a code, and then his fingerprint into a scanner and it pops open, revealing a bunch of tech. Taking out a phone and something smaller, he shuts it again and moves back over to me. “This phone is untraceable, only contact me on this going forward, and this is something to help you find his weakness.” Lincoln holds up a small black device that sits neatly between his fingers. “You plug it into his computer.”

I take both without question, still confused as to what he does, and what I’m supposed to do now. “Plug it into his computer, and then what?”

“Then I’ll do the rest,” he holds out his hand towards the door and I stand and walk with him. “But you either need to do it this weekend or wait until after next week as I’ll be out of the country.”

This weekend? How the hell am I supposed to get this thing into my father’s computer this weekend?

I follow him out of his office and back into the main area of the building where the reception desk is, and find the secretary from before talking to another young man, one I recognize instantly and I scoff, coming to a stop and causing Lincoln to look at me.

“You have the audacity to tell me this isn’t about money when you have one of the richest men in the country standing right there,” I tell him, pointing to the man I know to be Asher Donovan.

Asher is like me in many ways, he went to private school, was raised by wealthy parents, and constantly overshadowed by his father. Fairfield Prep used to play Hallows Prep frequently when we were in high school, and though he wasn’t on the team, his name and presence at any game was always something to talk about. His father had more money than god, and from what I hear he also had more sins than the devil. One of the rumors of this town is that Asher killed his father and brother so he could take over the family business, and when his cold, soulless eyes collide with mine, I just might believe it.

“Josh Peters,” he nods simply at my presence, recognition clear in his stare as he abandons his conversation with Eliza and moves to stand beside Lincoln who is still watching me closely.

I don’t bother responding to him, moving my focus back to Lincoln as I snap, “The world revolves around money, you can get people to do anything for the right price.”

Lincoln looks between the two of us, as if seeing our similarities for the first time before he sighs, “And with the right power you can change that world.”

This time I look at Asher, look at him and see the changes that weren’t there in high school. There is no grinding of his jaw, no straightening of his shoulders, no dark shadow from his father lingering around him, he looks free. “Are the rumors true?” I ask, knowing he knows what I mean, and his returning smirk is even more sinister than his friends.

“Some of them are true,” he muses with a shrug. “And some of them are a lot kinder than the truth.” His words make me realize that whatever the sins of his father are, he made him repent, and though my own father’s might not be as bad, he too must pay the price.

“I”ll get it done this weekend,” I say, moving my focus back to Lincoln, and he nods.

“Then I’ll speak to you soon,” he responds, not waiting for anything else before he turns and heads back to his office.

I watch him go and then flick my eyes back to Asher, to find that he watched him leave too. When he notices that I caught him staring, he turns on his heels and heads in the opposite direction without so much as a goodbye, which shows me he hasn’t changed too much in the last few years.

Still reeling from the whole interaction, I head back out to the parking garage, and pull my phone from my pocket to find a text from Hallie. Well, multiple texts actually.

Tink : Do you know I hate shopping?

Tink : Like I really fucking hate shopping

Tink : And do you know what’s worse than shopping???

Tink : Wedding dress shopping!!!

Tink : Why are there so many?

Tink : And why are all the fabrics itchy?

Tink : Do you think this one is okay?

Tink : *image attached*

Tink : No forget that one it feels weird on my skin

Tink : What about this one?

Tink : *image attached*

Tink : *image attached*

Tink : *image attached*

Tink : *image attached*

Tink : Nevermind I hate them all

Tink : And I hate your father

Tink : And I hate weddings!!!!

Tink : *image attached*

Tink : What about this one?

There is message after message and picture after picture, and it’s clear she is in some sort of wedding boutique trying to find a dress. I skim over the messages with a smile and then flick through all the pictures. She looks gorgeous in every dress like she does in everything else, but none of them are really her. Not that I know what any woman wants to wear on their wedding day, especially for a wedding that isn’t even real. Yet still I feel kind of bad that she is suffering through this for me.

Josh : Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress?

Tink : It’s like you think I won’t smother you with the fabric of one of these dresses

Josh : Damn! Bridezilla alert

Tink : Do I need to punch you in the dick again?

Josh : A smooth stroke would be preferred

Tink : Remind me of the til death do us part bit of our vows again?

I smile at her response, because despite the threats I am glad she is taking this thing seriously. Especially now that I have a secret weapon in my pocket.

Josh : You look beautiful in everything you wear

Josh : Just pick the one you will be most comfortable in

Even as I type the words and send them I know they’re pointless. None of those dresses are really her and despite this whole thing being fake, her feeling comfortable on our wedding day is important to me. So instead of pulling out of the garage and heading home like I originally planned, I pull up the map on my phone and search until I find what I’m looking for. It seems I need to make a little detour on my way home.

It’s almostnine by the time I make it back, and because it’s a Friday night I expect to find my house either empty or in full on party mode. Yet when I make my way inside all I find is Daemon sitting at the island in the kitchen, with half a bottle of whiskey already gone.

“Drowning our sorrows?” I ask, stepping towards him, surprised to find his usually dark and gray stormy eyes looking a little brighter than usual. He’s not a big drinker, not after what happened to him, but once in a while he will let go of his trauma and indulge a little. It seems like tonight is one of those times.

“Celebrating actually,” he muses, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before taking a slow, savoring sip.

“Well that’s a change,” I gruff with a smile, as I pour myself my own drink and hold it up to his. “What are we celebrating?”

“You,” he confirms, clinking his glass against my own as he gestures to our drinks. “This is your bachelor party.”

I can’t help but bark a laugh. I told Daemon about Hallie’s idea to get married on our own terms and he agreed it was a good plan. I even managed to persuade him to attend as a witness on my behalf, with Maddie of course being Hallie’s, despite the fact she is still barely talking to me. Yet not once did I ever imagine he’d actually participate in anything beyond attendance.

“No strippers and just us two present, what kind of bachelor party is this?” I ask with a smile, taking a sip of my own drink.

Daemon rolls his dark eyes, which are for once glossy from the drinking. “Please, you haven’t touched any woman in months, and you basically hate the rest of the team.”

Okay so he’s perceptive even when drinking, I’ll give him that, but still I find myself getting defensive.

“I do not hate the rest of the team.” Okay, so maybe I do hate Nova and his goofy housemates who think they are all god’s gift to women, but the rest of them are okay.

“Fine, then I hate the rest of the team,” he says with a tipsy smile, clinking his glass against mine, and all I can do is laugh because this is the Daemon I love.

This is the broken boy who became one of my best friends in Freshman Year, the one I bonded with over shitty fathers and obscene demands. The one who has silently been by my side for three years and helped me through everything, whether he realized it or not, and the one who will stand by my side tomorrow when I promise another friend a fake forever.

As if reading my thoughts he nods his head towards the garment bag in my hand. “What’s in there?”

I glance down to the bag gripped between my knuckles and sigh, “This is something to try and soften the blow of being married to me.”

A silence stretches between us at my response because he knows the burden all too well. I’m sure it’s why I never see him trying to force a relationship with anyone, because how can you manage a relationship with a partner, when the one with your own father is a mess? Why invite someone into your issues when you haven’t even figured them out yourself?

Tomorrow is my wedding day and I can’t even fully comprehend the weight of how it will change things. Not when, in some ways, my father will still have the upper hand and I will no longer be the only one in the firing line. Hallie might be my best friend, or at least she was once, but becoming my wife will be a whole different game, and despite me thinking she is the best player for the job, it’s still going to be one hell of a match.

Oh well, for better or for worse I guess.