Char (6 page)

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss York. Mr. York, good to have you back.” He bows to us like we’re freaking royalty.

Seriously?

We follow him inside.

“So what’s your name?” I ask.

“Gary Steven, ma’am,” he answers. I can see that he’s shocked I asked his name.

“Nice to meet you Gary. You don’t have to call me Miss anything. I’m just Charlotte. Everybody calls me Char.”

My dad stays quiet, but I can tell he doesn’t like that I told the
hired help
to call me Char. He’s all about appearances.

“If it’s all the same, I’d rather call you Miss York.”

Dad smiles.

Gah.

The elevator doors open, and we step inside. He presses the PH button. Dad lives in the top two floors of this building. It’s 42 stories high, so we have a pretty amazing view. There’s an awesome balcony, but I still can’t help feeling claustrophobic. I’m too much of a beach girl to live in this city. I love nature.

When the doors open, we are in my dad’s house. Which is weird to me. I feel like we should be in a hallway. Nope. We’re in his foyer.

The foyer is nice. There is a small sitting area. Dad has a Persian cream-colored rug there, and a nice brown Italian leather couch. There is an entry way that leads to the dining room, kitchen, and an entertainment area.

“Your room is right up the stairs,” Gary tells me. He follows behind me, carrying my luggage.

“You really don’t have to carry that.”

He looks back at my dad. “It’s my pleasure to carry your luggage.”

Gary sits my luggage down in my room, and leaves. I take the time to look at my room.

It’s not as big as my room in Malibu, but it’s still large. I look out the window. I have an amazing view of the city. My beach view in Malibu was much better. I sigh, and step away from the window.

The floors in my room are antique hardwood. I have a large purple rug in the middle of my room. I still have the same queen-sized bed I’ve always had. A purple, silk bedspread covers my bed, and I have a huge comfy white chair close by. Three of my walls are dark gray, and the wall by the window is the original brick wall. I like it.

On the wall in front of my bed, there is a huge flat-screen television. It wasn’t there last time I was here. Which makes me think…
Maybe
he planned this. Maybe he knew
I would be coming. Which is ridiculous. How could he
know
something like that?

I decide to unpack my clothes.

I have a walk-in closet, but it’s pretty small. Inside, all of the walls are brick, and the floor is the same hardwood floor as my room. Each shelf is lit up with LED lighting. I can’t wait to fill up my closet.

As I unpack, my dad comes in. “If you want to change anything about this room, just let me know. We’ll fix anything. The designer liked the brick wall, but if you don’t like it we can put up drywall or something.”

“No. Don’t. It’s perfect. But I am going to need some clothes.” I hold up the sundress I was about to hang up. “All I have are clothes like this. I don’t even own a jacket.”

“Oh. That reminds me.” He pulls out his wallet and hands me a credit card. It has
my name
on it. “Go get you some clothes. Get anything you want. But starting August first there will be a ten thousand dollar limit per month. If you need more, just let me know.”

Ten thousand?

Oh my God.

Yeah, Mom so never gave me that much. But he doesn’t have to know that.

“If you spend less than ten thousand, the money will go towards your trust fund, which you will get when you’re twenty-five, or when you graduate from college. Whichever comes first.”

“How much is in my trust fund?” I ask. My mom has never mentioned anything about a trust fund.

“Enough.” He walks towards the door. “We will leave here in the morning at seven thirty to go to your school. It’s about three blocks from here. Daniel will be driving us.”

“Three blocks… So I can walk there.”

“If you want,” he says. “See you in the morning. Wear something… conservative. You can go shopping after.”

Conservative?

I look in my closet. All I have is short dresses, tank tops, short shorts, and tight jeans. I think he’s forgetting I’m from California… Conservative might be hard to find.

7pm

You’re a druggie.

Dad had to meet with one of his clients, so I’m on my own for dinner. I decide that I’d rather not go out, so I order Indian food. As I eat, I send a text to Chloe to see what she’s up to.

Me:
Hey Chloe! I miss you already.

Chloe:
Aw. I miss you too. But I can’t talk right now. I’m on a date with Phillip.

Me:
Have fun.

Darn. Well, I suppose I could text my mom. I haven’t talked to her since I landed.

Me:
Made it to NY.

Mom:
Good. :) Don’t slack on your exercising while you’re there. You better not come back with a huge ass.

Me:
You’re SO CARING.

Mom:
I do care. You turn 18 in 2 months. You can come back here then. And we can get started on auditions.

Ugh. Okay, maybe texting Mom was a bad decision. Instead I decide to try Candice. She never replies, but maybe I will get lucky today.

Me:
Sup?

Candi:
Hey slut. Heard you got shipped off to NY because you’re a druggie. Way to bring down the family name.

Oh my God. She so did
not
just say that.

And I am not replying.

My phone vibrates. And I look to see a text from Landon. He hasn’t tried to contact me since I broke up with him on Saturday morning.

Landon:
I miss you. Are you ready to put this nonsense behind us?

Me:
Fuck you. And delete my number.

I put my phone away and just eat.

Maybe I won’t miss California as much as I thought I would.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 31

8am

What do you do for fun?

I wear my most conservative outfit. And my dad complains.

It’s a white, off the shoulder dress. It’s one of my favorite dresses, and goes half way down my thighs. I pair it with a pearl necklace, light pink pumps, and my favorite pink leather bag.

Now we are sitting in the headmistress’ office. She hands me a very thick book.

East Wood Prep School Handbook.

I flip it open and look through it. The first page is about conduct.

“Here at East Wood, we have a very strict conduct policy.” When she smiles at me, I can tell it’s forced. “I am sure that we won’t have problems out of you, Miss York.”

I smile right back.

She then explains the dress code. And my outfit breaks every rule in the book.

Ugh. It’s terrible.

“PLAID?” I ask. There has to be a mistake.

“Do you have a problem with this dress code?”

“Yes.”

“No she doesn’t,” my dad says firmly.

“Why do you even have a dress code? My private school in Malibu let us wear whatever we wanted.”

“And you
can
wear whatever you want. As long as it falls in line with the dress code,” she says. “We don’t want our students running around looking like… well… For example, the dress you’re wearing right now. It’s not appropriate, and it would definitely take away our credibility here at East Wood Prep School.”

I roll my eyes.

I want to shove my four-inch heel right up her ass. But she’s not worth the effort.

There is a knock on the office door.

“Come in, Christian,” the headmistress says.

“Hey, Ms. Clarkson,” the voice greets her.

The guy that walks in is my age. And he’s wearing a black suit. He looks so prim… He looks like Chuck Bass… Ugh. I am
so not
going to fit in here.

“Christian, this is Charlotte York, and her Dad Robert York,” she says. “While Mr. York and I finish up Miss York’s paperwork, maybe you can show her around the school.”

“Of course.” He turns to me and smiles. It’s then that I think maybe he’s not so prim and proper, because his smile is mischievous. He’s kind of cute. “After you.”

He follows me out of the office.

“So you are the famous Charlotte York,” Christian says.

I turn to him as we walk down the stairs.

He’s got beautiful dark blue eyes, and dark brown hair. He’s tanned, but I assume it’s because he’s spent his summer somewhere besides NYC. And he knows about me… I’m not sure if that is good or bad.

“Call me Char,” I tell him. “So you’re Christian.”

“Christian Becker,” he says. “My dad is Charles Becker of Becker Industries.”

The way he says it, I can tell it’s supposed to mean something to me. “Cool.”

“So you got busted for drugs, right?”

I roll my eyes. “I was smoking weed. I’m not exactly a hardcore drug user. I just like to smoke with my best friend. If you had my parents you’d probably smoke too.”

“Who says I don’t smoke?”

I look at his suit. “I do. You’re too uptight to smoke week.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” He smiles. “I think I’m going to like you. So do you want to get the hell out of here? I know a place where we can have awesome breakfast.”

“Whatever,” I say. Anything is better than being at this stuffy place.

We walk onto the street, and Christian points out places along the way. We stop about a block away from the school and head inside for breakfast. After we order, we sit down at a little table. The place is crowded, so it must be good. Or it’s crowded because it’s NY.

“So do you have a boyfriend?” Christian asks.

“What difference does it make you?”

“Ouch.”

I roll my eyes. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend. And no, I don’t want one.”

“We could still have fun without being in a relationship.”

“Just because my sister is a whore doesn’t mean I am.” I hate calling Candice a whore. Really, she’s not as bad as they make her out to be on
Shores of Malibu
. She just makes everything worse by posing naked. The first time she did, I overlooked it. It was for a good cause. But now, there is no reason. She’s posing for freaking
Playboy
, and I can’t stand behind her. I wish that I could. She’s not the same Candi she once was.

“I’m just messing with you. I thought you weren’t uptight.”

“I’m not,” I quickly say. “I just don’t like to be propositioned.”

My phone vibrates, and I look to see a text from my dad.

Dad:
Hey, where are you?

Me:
Having breakfast with Christian.

Dad:
Have fun! I’m going to work. And will be gone all day. So you should hang out. He’s a good friend to have in this city.

I don’t even bother responding to that last text.

“So, Christian, do you know where all the good parties are?”

He nods.

“Any tonight.”

He nods again.

“Can I come?”

“Oh, I’ll make you come alright.” He winks.

Even boys in New York are horny bastards. “That’s not what I mean.”

“I know. And yes. I’ll pick you up at eight. Is that cool?”

“Yep.” Just because I’m not in California doesn’t mean I can’t have fun. And just because I’m in New York doesn’t mean my dad can control me. I’ll show him. I refuse to become completely anti-social just because my zip code changed.

8pm

Too New York

After breakfast, I spend the rest of my day shopping. I must say, shopping without my sisters just isn’t as fun. But I got clothes for all occasions, including tonight. My first New York party. Dad is still at work. He had a client he had to meet with… something about getting proof of a cheating spouse? I don’t know, and I don’t care. All I know is he’s very good at what he does, hence his enormous income. I text him as I’m leaving.

Me:
Going to a party with Christian. Going to meet some people from school.

Dad:
Awesome. Stay out as long as you want. Have fun!

I roll my eyes at that text. Like I wasn’t going to stay out as long as I wanted anyway. But I suppose it makes him feel better to think he has all the power. Or maybe he really does. I don’t know. But either way, I will show him that I can’t be controlled. Or manipulated.

Christian picks me up a little after eight. In the limo he’s already doing shots of whiskey, which pretty much guarantees an interesting night.

“Want one?” he says, holding out one of the two shots he poured.

“No thanks. I don’t drink.”

He downs both shots. “That’s a little odd. You smoke pot, but you don’t drink alcohol.”

“I don’t find it odd at all. In fact, I’m kind of fond of my liver and would like to keep it in tip top shape.” It’s not that I’m
against
alcohol. I’m not. I just think it’s not something that should be abused. A glass of wine here or there is fine. I’ve been drunk a total of two times in my life. Once on my sixteenth birthday. I spent the majority of the night with my head over the toilet while Aaron held back my hair. The next time I got drunk, I tried to sleep with a stranger. Thankfully Aaron was there and stopped it before anything crazy happened. The next morning I didn’t remember a thing. After that I decided that alcohol definitely
isn’t
my friend.

“Oh, I get it. You’re from California. So you’re like a tree hugging hippie.”

Tree hugging hippie?
“Just because I want to live until I’m at least one hundred doesn’t make me a tree hugger. And yeah, I love trees. Trees give us oxygen. But I am not some hippie. I eat meat. I drink alcohol in moderation. Hell, I drive a Jeep. Which I know is bad for our resources, but whatever. Point is, I care about the earth, but I definitely don’t go overboard. And I also don’t believe global warming is real.”

Christian laughs. “Good to know. You a republican too?”

“I’m neither, thank you very much. And before you ask, I’m pro life.”

“I didn’t think girls were pro life. Your body, your choice and all…”

“The way I see it is girls make a choice to use protection or not. It’s not the babies fault they didn’t use a condom or birth control.”

“What about a rape situation?”