See No Evil

“So? Don’t leave us in suspense. Who does Walker here have the hots for?” Jeff jokes, messing with my hair, leaving me all disheveled. I slap his hand away, but the fucker takes it as his invitation to sit next to me.

“Did the Tin Man get a heart? I thought you were forged in steel, not mush,” Tommy jokes, blowing a kiss at Ke

Tommy prefers to stand instead of sitting next to East. If I dislike him, then Easton hates him with the power of a thousand suns, something that Tommyboy knows all too well.

“Don’t be an asshole, Tom. It doesn’t suit you,” Ke

“Chill, babe. I’m only busting his balls. Who’s the lucky lady that’s grabbed young Walker’s attention?”

None of my friends open their mouths, but since I don’t want him to think I’m ashamed or something, I give him the name he wants to hear.

“Stone Be

“Are you serious?” Jeff whispers beside me.

I see concern tainting each of his words, but I don’t have time to answer him since Tommy acts like I just told the world’s fu

“Oh my God, so it’s true?” He continues to laugh, slamming his open palms on the table so hard that it startles a few of the coffee goers in this place. “You have been slumming it down on the Southside. I’d heard the rumors, but I thought it was fake news like most of Richfield’s gossip. So, how’s that going for you, Walker?”

“It didn’t pan out,” I reply with gritted teeth.

I wish I could punch the asshole in his fucking smug face, but then I’d have to deal with a pissed-off Ke

“Maybe it’s for the best,” he retorts after he’s done laughing like a fucking hyena. “Some people just need to stay in their lane. You know what I’m saying?” He cocks his brow.

“No, asshole, he doesn’t. Explain it to him,” Easton belts out.

Tommyboy sways his head toward Easton, giving an elitist sneer that is all sorts of fucked up.

“Oh, I think you don’t give Walker here the credit he deserves. Some people shouldn’t mix, and your boy knows it. White trash is just that—trash. No matter how pretty the packaging is, some things should stay in the gutter where they belong,” he explains with a scornful glower, the dig evidently intended for Easton’s mom as well as Stone. He then tilts his head my way, and I have to curl my hands into fists under the table to keep my level head. “You got my meaning well enough, didn’t you, Walker?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

I know the bastard is dying to say something else, but he’s interrupted by Lincoln’s mocking whistle, which breaks his focus and gains the attention of all of us.

“You are so fucking full of shit, Tommy. Phew. I can smell your stench every time you open that trap of yours. Why don’t you do us all a favor and choke on it instead of spewing it in our direction? Go on now, Tommyboy. Get,” Linc orders, waving Tommy off as if he were an errant puppy needing to be hit on the nose with a newspaper.

Tom turns every shade of red in a crayon box, but he shuts his mouth, knowing that, against Lincoln, he is shit out of luck. Tommyboy might be the only son of the great Senator Maxwell, but Lincoln owns most of the Carolinas. You can’t throw a rock in all of Asheville without it hitting some monument with his family name on it. Senator Maxwell knows that if he wants to be reelected, he’ll need the support of the last heirs to the Richfield dynasty—Lincoln Hamilton and Colt Turner, the two men Tommyboy can’t say shit to, or about, if he doesn’t want to get on his daddy’s bad side.

Sensing the mood, Ke

“Good thing my time is up since this is too much testosterone for me. I best be heading back to Richfield, or I’ll be late for class. Drive me, Tom?”

“Sure, babe,” he answers, dropping a kiss on her lips.

I feel Linc’s body stiffen next to me, but he doesn’t say anything further to antagonize the asshole.

“Are you coming?” Ke

“Yeah, I’ll meet you both outside. Just need to talk to the guys for a quick second.” He smiles warmly at her.

Ke

Jefferson waits until his sister and that asshole he has for a future brother-in-law are out of view and earshot. He then stands up to address us all on what’s so goddamn important that it couldn’t be said in front of them.

“I know Tom is a dick, but he’s Ke

The question is aimed at all of us, but Jefferson’s eyes are fixed only on Linc, demonstrating who he’s really concerned about.

“Whatever you say, Jeff. We’ll be good little boys from now on. Pinky promise,” Easton replies sarcastically, crossing his heart with his middle finger.

Jefferson just shakes his head and leaves without adding anything further to his diatribe. He said what he needed to say, and it was enough.

“What does Ke

Linc leans his head back on the headrest, looking exhausted all of a sudden.

This new split personality that Linc’s got going still takes a little getting used to. When he’s with anyone but us three, he acts as the same carefree guy with no worries—the one he used to be before it happened. Now, the scars and damage of what we’ve done are only visible on his face when we are alone and away from prying eyes.

But then again, aren’t we all leading a double life? Aren’t we acting like we’ve got our shit together and everything is above board when, in reality, we are slowly drowning in a sea of despair? We are all wearing masks. Lincoln, Easton, Colt. Even me. We are pretending to be something we will never be again—i

“Well, don’t just gawk at the sky, dude. Answer me! Are you going to sit back and do nothing? Just hand over your girl to that fucking prick?”

“She’s not my girl, East. She never was and never will be, so just drop it,” Lincoln replies in defeat.

“The fuck are you—”

“I said, DROP IT!” Linc yells this time, slamming his fists onto the table for good measure.

The eerie silence that transpires has me sweating bullets. East should know by now that Ke

As a distraction, I order some sweet tea, entirely disregarding the coffee in front of me. Easton just slumps in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest like a spoiled child, scowling around the coffee shop rather than looking at either of us.

I sip on my tea, trying hard not to get too lost in my head, waiting for one of them to set aside their differences and call a truce so we can get back to normal. That’s the thing about our little band of brothers—we can be swinging punches at each other one minute, and by the next, we’re joking around, not even remembering why we were pissed off in the first place.