The Bad Boy's Secret Read online

  The Bad Boy's Secret

  by Susan Stevens & Jasmine Bowen

  Published in Great Britain by:

  LeadsClick

  26 York Street

  London

  W1U 6PZ

  Copyright 2013 - All Rights Reserved - Susan Stevens

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any informational storage or retrieval system without express written, dated and signed permission from the author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 1

  Chuck leaned against the hood of the car, smoking his third cigarette as he waited for the school bell to ring. Technically, he should be inside the school, watching the clock from history class, but school was for losers. At 18, he felt like he had lived more than most people did by the time they took their last breath. Having grown up on in a falling down building in the heart of New York City, he had known more about guns, thievery, and standing in line at the food bank than he did about his grade six textbook. His mother didn’t work and his father squirreled away most of his measly income on after work happy hour. Twice, they were evicted, sleeping more than a few nights in homeless shelters before his dad transferred to the middle of nowhere mid-west town that they currently lived. The factory work was the same, the happy hour was the same, but the rent and booze was cheaper, and they had managed to stay in the same house for the last 3 years with only a few landlord threats. Chuck had hated everything about the new town, missed the hustle and bustle of big city life. Eventually however, he found the group of friends he fell in with now, and life didn’t seem so awful. Not even the fact that he spent more nights sleeping on couches and on the streets bothered him. It didn’t get as cold here, and when his father threw things in a drunken rage, he could slam out the door and not worry about where he was going. As one of the kings of the streets, in a town separated by lower and upper class, he wasn’t afraid of anything. No one cared whether he went to school, his friends shared what little cash they had, and everyone pitched in to make sure life was as good as it could be in this shit town.

  He could drink until he fell down and still stumble his way over to his best friend’s house just before morning light. He didn’t worry about grades, or his future. Kids died young on this side of the tracks, whether it was a gunshot or a lack of funds for doctor’s bills. Living fast was the only way to enjoy life.

  If there was anyone Chuck respected in this town, it was 21 year old Richard. Orphaned only a year ago, Richard half killed himself working three jobs to make sure that his two teenaged brothers didn’t have to spend the rest of their childhood in foster care. When their parents died, Richard grew up in a moment, making sure that although they were poor, his brother’s didn’t go without. Richard’s house was also the central gathering for their gang of friends, with dinners and long nights spent in the cramped living room.

  ***

  “Every day, man, I swear, this bell gets later and later. The boys can walk home, I’m bored,” Chuck declared, with a grin.

  “I imagine, Chuck, that the bell would be faster if you were actually inside.”

  “Have you ever been to school? It’s boring as hell.”

  “Uh, yes,” Richard gave him a look. “You getting senile?”

  The bell in question managed to stop the bickering between the two of them, as students streamed out, just waiting for the sound to release them to freedom.

  Richard’s brothers, Peter and Shawn, 14 and 17 respectively and together as always, were locked in their own playful argument as they pushed their way through the crowd. Steve, Shawn’s best friend, was on their other side, texting frantically as he always did. The boy was glued to his phone, and was the one to text if you needed something right away.

  Shawn always worried Richard, and his older brother was glad it was his last year in school. Keeping him in school had been a struggle, even for their parents, and Richard only let him work five hours a week at his part time job, in order to finish out his senior year without flunking it. Peter, however, never needed any encouragement, and always got teased for having his nose in a book. Regardless, the boy got straight A’s, and so Richard let him do what he wanted when night fell, provided it was safe. At only 14, he was restricted to the movie theatre, the mall, or a house party at a friend’s house, nothing more. The regular fist-fights that took place on the train tracks were lacking in his attendance, unless he snuck his way in.

  “I’m hungry,” the youngest said, sliding right up to his big brother as Richard handed over the rest of his sandwich without protest. Despite having gotten up in the middle of the night to work a 12 hour shift, he was always putting his brothers’ needs before his, even if it meant going hungry.

  “There’s a chicken in the oven,” Richard said, shrugging on his leather jacket so that they could get going. Years of construction kept him in top shape, often the biggest and strongest among any gang they encountered. With Richard leading the way, people rarely started fights with them.

  “Chuck, you going to Kevin’s party tonight?” Steve asked, making a grab for the passenger seat just as Shawn did.

  “Of course. Whole damn county is going to be at that party,” Chuck replied, and was about to say more when they were interrupted.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the little teacher’s pet, running home to his little house.”

  Peter knew the voice before he even turned around, and he cringed. Gordon Light and his usual entourage were standing behind them, their fists shoved in their pockets like they didn’t mean any harm, which Peter knew wasn’t true. 7 of them in all, Gordon and his brothers and friends were the richest kids in school, always able to buy their way into whatever they wanted. Whether it was good grades, or admission to a private college, the money never stopped pouring out. Their clothes probably cost more than the house that the boys lived in, and their shoes probably could re-sell for more than the car. However, at the moment, none of that bothered Richard as he moved to the front of the group. They were outnumbered, but he was stronger than at least three of them on his own.

  “You boys got something to say?” he asked, as he pushed Peter back. Chuck straightened up as well, tensing his muscles. He didn’t feel much like fighting after being awake all night, but if he had to, he could throw a mean right hook.

  “What’s it to you, brawny?” Gordon stood his ground. Richard knew that starting a fight on the middle of the school parking lot would mean picking up the boys down the street for the rest of the year. But he was sorely tempted to not care.

  “It’s something to me because that’s my brother that you are messing with. And I don’t see no reason to make fun of him just because you couldn’t read your way out of a paper bag,” Richard replied, clenching his fist. “So why don’t you move along now?”

  “So why don’t you move along now?” Gordon mimicked. “Why don’t you move along, old man?”

  “Seriously?” Chuck growled, taking his place by Richard’s side. “Unless you want to start something you can’t finish, why don’t ya’ll move along?”

  “Richard, I got this,” Peter said, but no one paid any attention to him. On the other side of the car, Steve and Shawn were lost in their own world, jabbering in a language only best friends understood, of half sentences and broken thoughts. The
y were so used to fights in the school parking lot that didn’t start, it didn’t matter whether they paid attention or not. Richard could probably hold off all seven if he wanted.

  “Yeah, we can start something,” Gordon sneered. “Tomorrow night, meet us by the train tracks. It’s been a long time since you boys had your faces beaten in.”

  “It has been a long time since we beat your faces in,” Chuck agreed. “Not sure I can wait till tomorrow night. How about we start now?” The consequences of him starting the fight in the parking lot were small and pointless. He wasn’t planning on going back to school any time soon, and the day his parents cared what he was up to was the day pigs flew. It was only the concern for the rest of them that held him back. He didn’t get the point of school, but Richard wanted Peter and Shawn to do well, and so he wasn’t going to sabotage that.

  “How about we go home and see you tomorrow night?” Richard asked, giving Chuck a look. Official fights were one thing, organized, with rules. There was no jazz before a rumble went down, no fighting in little gangs, and no weapons. No one pulled switchblades or guns on each other during rumbles. They lined up over whatever quarrel they had of the moment, and took each other down one by one, by size, until one side fled. It was one thing to get roughed up, but fighting, outnumbered in a back alley or a school parking lot, was a completely different story. The cops didn’t bother them, down by the train tracks, they knew it was left to the gangs to sort themselves out.

  Not that they were really an official gang, so to speak. There were official gangs, like the Mulos or the Piranhas, gangs that had colors and always carried blades. Even the upper class had them, calling them fraternities or masons, or even just brotherhoods. Regardless, the boys had no official manage gang colors or secret handshakes. Their friendship came out of necessity, the strongest kind of bond. They wouldn’t leave each other because each needed the other to watch their back, because each had nowhere else to go. Loyalties could be turned, friendships could be bought, but this group was here to stay.

  “You got yourself a deal,” Chuck heard himself saying, yawning as if he was bored by the entire situation. In truth, he was exhausted, and his hangover was coming raging back like a drummer intent on destroying him. Chicken and a nap on the couch before partying it up again sounded like a good idea to him.

  “See ya then, boys,” Gordon sauntered off, as if they had just made a lunch date. Richard rolled his eyes.

  “What a bunch of losers. I’m surprised they found their way to school this morning. Or got dressed on their own.”

  “Hey, did you see that new broad?” Steve said to Shawn, as Richard popped the trunk for them to throw their bags in. This perked Chuck’s interest. Girls were his favorite topic.

  “What new broad?”

  “New broad in tenth grade, just transferred in. She’s even your type, Chuck.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Chuck wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or not.

  “Straight from the big city. Probably stuck up as hell, but damn, is she nice to look at.”

  “Yeah?” Chuck turned to Steve with a grin. “Nice body?”

  “Sure. Bit on the skinny side, but well done. Looks like she works out. Red head and all.”

  “I saw her,” Peter said. “They were bringing her around, doing a school tour. She is super pretty.”

  “Damn, now hold up, Richard,” Chuck grinned, not letting Richard get in the car. “We should find her and offer her a ride home.”

  “We should?” Richard was not impressed. Besides, there weren’t any more seats, and he told Chuck so.

  “She can sit on my lap then. Boys, she come out the door yet?”

  “Not yet, I was looking for her,” Steve replied. “And back off, drop out, I saw her first.”

  Chuck grinned.

  “So I missed a few days. Can’t say I wouldn’t go back if there wasn’t a good reason.”

  “That’s her, over there!” Peter pointed out, leaning against the door. He was still a bit shy around girls, and if those two were onto her, he didn’t stand a chance. Usually, if he mustered up the courage to talk to a girl, it was about a class assignment, and even then, he screwed it up.

  Chuck turned his head, expecting some vivacious red head to drop his jaw. When he caught sight of the girl that they were pointing at, his jaw did drop, but it wasn’t from her beauty.

  Tall and lean, exactly as they described, the girl had on expensive clothes that would make her blend right in with Gordon and the gang. She had on tight jeans, boots that laced up to her knee, and a tee-shirt that hid nothing about her figure. Her red hair was long, past her shoulder blades, and styled down, to fall in her face every so often as she walked.

  She happened to look up right as Chuck was staring at her, and her jaw dropped as well. Steve cleared his throat.

  “Yo! Yo! Over here! Remember me? We were in class together? Math? You’re a year up, I’m a year down? Want to come tutor me?”

  Richard rolled his eyes, but to his disbelief, the line worked and the girl walked right over to them, no fear or disgust in her eyes, as other girls of her type usually did. But it wasn’t Steve she was focused on.

  “I’m Steve, by the way,” Steve continued. “These are my loser friends. Richard, Peter, Shawn and…”

  “Chuck?” the girl asked, in disbelief. Chuck’s voice sounded equally stunned.

  “Sas?” he replied, and the pair of them stared at each other for what felt like a decade.

  “Guess you lose this one, Steve,” Shawn whispered and Steve hit him.

  “What are you doing here?” Chuck asked, stepping forward. As tall and menacing as he was, with his leather jacket and bike chains, his elfish face appearing mean and ruthless, the girl didn’t flinch.

  “What are you doing here?” she replied, equally as stunned, and they both laughed. And then, after a moment, they embraced, tightly. She buried her head in his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her and it was like coming home, at last.

  Chapter 2

  Cassiopeia wasn’t used to being up so late, but when she called her parents to tell them who she ran into at school (she left out the part where he wasn’t actually in the school), they agreed to let her just take a cab home when she was ready. And she wasn’t sure that she would ever be ready, staring up in awe at Chuck as if Thor himself had come down from Mount Olympus to snatch her up.

  She had been so worried about starting a new school, and meeting new friends. But at the same time, she was relieved. In the new school, no one seemed to know that she was Cassiopeia Winters, the figure skater who would have been on the Olympic Team next year if she had kept at it. Her partner, Scott had trained with her since before they could really walk, tiny tots clinging onto each other, and skidding across the ice. Waking up at 4:30am to get to the rink before school was as natural to her as the other kids dragging themselves out of bed at 8am, just before the school bus came.

  And Chuck, whose father worked under her father at the factory, was always there to walk her to the rink and then to school, making what he felt like was more money than his parents ever had. It was a mutual beneficial relationship for all parties. Chuck earned the allowance his parents could never afford to give him, and with Cassiopeia under his responsibility, he actually made it to the huge K-12 school that they both attended almost every day. Staying at school, of course, was a different manner, but at least he was always in homeroom.

  It meant her parents didn’t have to wake up earlier than needed for their high powered jobs, and she always got in the ice time that won her competitions and awards throughout the country.

  When Chuck moved, 3 years ago, they lost contact. Cassie missed him on the early morning walks that she was now old enough to make herself.

  When Scott died, however, she never put on a pair of ice skates again. They moved, her father transferring to the same
mid-west office, and Cassie, in her grief, had forgotten that it was Chuck’s last known address. Until, at least, she saw him, standing across the parking lot, that familiar grin still on his face and his arms wide open.

  Despite being a tough gangster in training, running with the wrong crowd and being thrown into juvie twice, he had always made sure Cassie was safe, to and from the rink, and never involved her in the type of trouble he was in.

  He had followed her career with what he claimed was nothing special. But every time an article popped up about her, he saved it.

  And when Scott died, he tried to reach out to her last known address. But she was already gone and the old number didn’t work. He had no idea where she had gone, until she turned up here.

  “Are you sure I’m not intruding?” she said, as the Criter boys let her in the door, Chuck hot on her heels. “If you had a nice dinner planned with friends…”

  “Don’t be dumb, Sas, you ain’t bothering no one,” Chuck closed the door behind her, kicking of his shoes as if he owned the place. Without thinking, he took her coat and hung it up on the hook, like he used to do when she was barely a child. It made her smirk, as they followed the boys into the living room.

  “So you’re from New York,” Shawn said, reaching in the fridge to offer her a cold beer. When she shook her head, he swapped it for a glass of water. Chuck popped a beer all on his own, leaving the cap in the sink. “Like Chuck. How do you find it around here? Boring as hell, right?”

  “It’s kind of quiet,” she replied, taking a sip. “And I like it that way.”

  “See what you say in a week,” Shawn teased, leading her to the sofa. But before she left the kitchen, she turned to Richard.

  “Can I help with something? I feel bad, just barging in here like this.”

  “Nah, get out,” Richard said, kindly. “We ain’t real formal around here. Enjoy your time here.”